#yeah i wrote this last night during insomnia.

[bixels]

Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

[its-zur1]

Headcanon: after they had lost Moblit and became the new commander, they got insomnia and often hallucinated hearing him / seeing him in nightmares

Story i wrote inspired by the heacanon:

The first few nights after reaclaiming Shiganshina were sleepless for them. They never were the type to feel guilty for something, but this was different. The guilt they felt for Moblit's death was there. They told themselves it wasn't their fault, even Levi explained that to them after noticing them sobbing in the corner of their room one night, but it was difficult to believe in that, knowing Moblit had sacrificed his life for theirs, and that he'd died such a terrible death too.

Their new role in the survey corps wasn't really helping as well. Or maybe it was? They couldn't tell. But, it did keep them up at night. Always signing important documents, going on meetings, and everything Erwin used to do before them. They did all the boring things if it kept their mind occupied, their thoughts away from their feelings.

Yet the feelings were still there.

The moment they closed their eyes, they'd start seeing it all over again. Any loud noise reminded them of Bertholdt's transformation, any campfire they passed by reminded them of how it must've felt for Moblit. How it must've felt to burn alive. They couldn't even imagine how painful it must've been. Or maybe it wasn't? Maybe it was quick? They knew they'd never know how it felt.

The third day going with no sleep must've been too noticable. They fell asleep during a meeting, where they were woken up immediately afterwards, in the end getting no things done.

They went back to their new office. Everything there reminded them of the past, and they hated it. They hated it so much.

They sat down on the chair, looking around the empty room, resting their head on the desk, which was followed by a loud sigh showing how tired they were, as well as silence after that.

The floor creaked as they heard a bunch of slow footsteps.

"Hange! Please, get some sleep!"

A voice said.

"Hm...?"

They tiredly responded, not recognising the voice at first.

"You're not getting enough sleep."

"...mhh....okay.."

They felt their heavy eyes close, the voice was soothing. They felt themselves relax, and eventually fall asleep.

However, they were soon disturbed by someone placing a hand on their shoulder.

"....hhhhhh.."

They groaned, waking up.

"....Mobliiit.."

"Eh..?"

"....not now.."

They sighed.

"Hange, wake up.."

"..ughhhh"

They let out another groan, lifting their head and opening their eyes, finally looking at the person infront of them.

"..heh?..."

They let out a confused sound, before their mind caught up.

"...it's dark you know."

"..Oh- ..yeah....

yeah."

Levi must've noticed, it's not the first time they've accidentally sleeptalked or have called someone a different name. Ever since the last mission, it's happened a lot more often.

They stood up, barely able to stand, their legs trembling.

"Shit, for how long have you not slept four eyes?"

"..."

They looked at their friend with a sad expression. Something that nobody, not even their beloved Moblit saw.

"What about you?"

"..."

Levi didn't reply to their question.

"Go take a bath and go to sleep, you'll need it."

"...."

"..sure."

Hange had changed.

They've gone from being their always smiling, always happy and silly self, to whatever they were now. They were tired, too tired. Yet they kept on going, they couldn't abandon everything just yet.

They really tried to enjoy the time they had left, but really, how could anyone do so after all that. Their new rank as the commander of the survey corps made it even worse.

That might've been the reason they were the one to go, the one to go and save what was now the alliance. They left so quickly, willingly sacrificing their life for the cause, like they all had. Like Moblit had too.

They did feel a bit selfish, and they might've been, leaving their last friend, Levi, all alone. Atleast he understood they couldn't continue going anymore. And this was a golden oportunity. A chance to feel what Moblit had.

Now they knew how the fire felt. It was hot, too hot, burning their skin. It hurt. Was that how Moblit felt too? They wondered in their last moments, when what was left of their body turned into ashes.

- thanks for reading!!♡

[l0serloki]

Trials

Chamber x Reader

WC : 600

Summary : Chamber is always there for you, and you would always be there for him. Tonight was the night he needed you the most.

CW : PTSD MENTIONS, anxiety, insomnia, comforting Chamber during an attack

A/N : Please read the content warning beforehand. I wrote this to comfort myself and not feel alone - this is a touchy subject for some people! (I am in the same boat, I wrote it based on what I would want - this is a self-indulgent fic.) PTSD is different from everybody's perspective and this is mine! I know there is different types and reactions. 

Chamber was a wonderful boyfriend - the best you had ever had. He would play you music whenever you felt anxious, massage your pains, even stay up when the insomnia hit. You and him were quite the pair, he had always joked. You always loved how he could say something so strong and make it sound like a simple comment. He had always known what to say or do when you were down, and tonight it seemed roles were reversed.

Chamber had struggled with PTSD from his military days for as long as you could remember. A year into the relationship he had opened up and your heart swelled knowing that he trusted you. You loved the man and wished for all this pain to float away, he did not deserve it. Too bad life was cruel and everyone must face the trials of mortality. 

You had woken up to feel something shaking the bed. Groggily, you turned to notice Vincent silently rocking himself. “Baby? Are you alright?” You rubbed your hand against his back triggering the man to start sobbing. Your heart broke at the sight, he didn’t deserve to be plagued like this. “Vin, shh.. It’s okay. Come here.” Shuffling his body into your arms, you started running your fingers through his hair. “You’re fine. Copy my breathing.” You could tell he had started to focus more, his sobs quieting down. “That’s it. It’s all gone now. You know I would play you music but we saw how that worked out last time..” You could hear a little snort, his tears slowly drying. “Please don’t. I don’t need to feel worse.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the sarcastic comment. “Well that’s rude! I think I compare to Beethoven.” His breathy guffaw made you smile, hand getting rid of any excess tears. 

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep again.” His voice wavered, hands tightening around your waist. “That’s fine. We can watch a movie and I’ll make some drinks. We’ve slept long enough anyways. Stay still and I’ll be right back.”

Your hands opened the bedroom door, his bed head peeking out of the covers. “There’s my little bird. Here, I made us cider.” His hands shook slightly as he took the cup, taking a sip. He made a little satisfactory ‘mm’ as you turned on the TV. Scrolling around Netflix, you found a cheesy Christmas film. You knew your option had to be smart, you didn’t want to trigger anything more in his state. This would be a safe call and put him in a good mood even if he did claim it was ‘cheesy and not entertaining.’

Vincent rested his head against your chest, his breath fanning your skin as the movie continued. “To be fair, the movie is cheesy but the man is smart.” Vincent’s voice made you jump a bit, not expecting him to talk. “Yeah, he’s rich and a businessman. Of course you’re going to like him.” Chamber’s hand lightly smacked you as he made a fake gasp. “I am hurt! You think so little of me to fall into such a stereotype?” You could only roll your eyes. “Yes.” His grin and pretty brown hues met yours. He deserved only the best and you would work like hell to give it to him.

“I love you, Vincent.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[emerald-chaos]

Insomnia

*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*

Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)

Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.

No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.

You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.

Jesus, she looks awful.

The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.

The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.

Yeah, fat chance.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.

Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.

In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.

Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.

“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.

The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”

The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.

“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.

“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.

You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.

The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.

The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.

The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.

Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.

If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.

“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.

“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”

His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.

“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.

Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.

“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.

Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.

“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.

A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.

“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.

“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.

“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.

You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.

“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.

At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.

You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.

He....well, he was Bucky.

And god damn it if you didn’t love him.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.

“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.

Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.

You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.

“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.

“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.

“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.

A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.

“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.

[ticketstomydaydreams]

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

[g0ldengubler]

chapter one~one wild night

(*gif made by recsbylotte*)

A/N: I'm so sorry this chapter is so long, but I had to get everything down, I was having too much fun with this concept. Also, please give a listen to the song Nauseous here so you get the full idea of where this story will go and if you like the song, check out Zubin's other songs as well! Highly suggest the song "Backseat" which also has Fantasy Camp! Ok, enjoy :)

Category: Smut

CW: light-ish smut, fingering, alcohol, weed (please smoke responsibly!)

Word Count: 3985

before you read | next chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Great job everyone!" said Aaron Hotchner to his team.

Everyone in the BAU team gave a small round of applause on their jet, but yours was a bit louder than the rest. This was your first case and you worked so hard to solve it with the team to prove that you deserve to be with them. You wanted this job since you were a little girl. Jason Gideon was holding a class on the basics of profiling with his partner, David Rossi, and you and your dad went because you both loved watching 80's crime and law shows like "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock", and from the way your eyes would be glued to the tv, he knew that you wanted to be someone like Jessica Fletcher and her friends at Cabot Cove.

At one point, Gideon asked a question and you answered it right away, which took both of them back a bit, including your dad and everyone else in the room. A ten year old girl, understanding what was being said and not getting scared of the pictures that were shown. You were sure some of them thought of you crazy, but your dad was proud.

After the class, THE Jason Gideon and THE David Rossi came up to the two of you to talk. You were totally fangirling a bit because the two people you looked up to wanted to say how shocked but also kind of happy that someone so young was fascinated with this subject. Rossi told you several years later when you went to one of his book signings, that once you were old enough to give him a call and he'd set some things up to get you into the academy, and that's exactly what happened when you turned 21.

Because of your love of solving crime, you worked hard in school. So much so you were one of the top students. College was no different, and Rossi seemed to notice. He kept tabs on you from time to time to see how you were doing after you emailed him about doing well in high school and your first year of college. During your second year, Rossi asked if you could come to the BAU and talk with him and his coworker, Aaron, who was the team leader. They both agreed that you were incredible in your studies and saw a lot of potential in you. Your dream was starting to come true after accepting their invitation to the academy, and you could feel butterflies in your stomach.

Now you were 25, and Hotch had officially welcomed you to the team. As the ride back continued, you remembered how your first day went, even though it was only a few days ago. You met the team, and right away, you befriended the only one closer to your age, Dr.Spencer Reid. You remembered seeing his long hair and cardigan kind of melting together as he sat down at the round table and gave you a small wave. You didn't have many friends growing up, but he reminded you of your only friend back home, but that almost brought you to tears straight away, making you snap out of your daydreams.

You get up to have a glass of water. As your pouring, someone scares you from behind.

"Hey, Y/N!" A man's voice said.

You jumped which made you spill some water all over the place. "Spencer!"

"I am so sorry!" He chuckles as you both grabbed some paper towel to clean the counter, laughing at the incident.

You both go back to your seats, which were right next to each other on the couch. After meeting Spencer on your first day, Rossi told you that you two would get along perfectly. And you did. It made you feel comfortable right away and you pulling a...well, you, you were stuck to him like glue as a safety net. You used to think it was something every newbie did on their first day; try to find someone who you click with and stick with them until you got the ropes. Apparently, that was something people found annoying, and had you fired the first two jobs you got. With Spencer, however, he didn't mind it, which made you feel unsure but happy at the same time.

You and Spencer talked about the similarities you had and laughed at all the nerdy jokes you were making. At one point, another member of the team, Derek Morgan, had to throw a pillow at Spencer because he was laughing so loud and he was trying to sleep, which made even Hotch (who you guessed never even cracked a smile before) laugh a little bit.

"Boys, behave," Jj joked, not even looking up, "Or daddy's going to send you to your rooms when we get home."

"Ok, pLEASE don't say "daddy" ever again unless your at home." said Emily Prentiss, which made everyone laugh even harder.

You could tell that this team was more than just coworkers getting the job done, they were a family. And YOU were invited into this family. This was a feeling you always wanted: friends acting like a family.

30 Minutes Later

Finally you were back at the BAU. The case was stressful, and the flight back kinda made you tired, but your excitement and happiness were taking over rapidly. You usually fought those feelings because you felt emotions differently than others, and it always annoyed the people around you. Tonight was different, so you cut yourself some slack for once.

As you head back to your desks, Hotch spoke. "You guys deserve a break after that case. The heads of the BAU are giving us one month off. Get some rest and enjoy your vacation. Garcia invited us all to her place to celebrate but sadly Rossi and I are going to have to pass tonight. Jack has a big game tomorrow and I don't think the parents would be too pleased if their kid's coaches were hungover."

On cue, Penelope Garcia runs in with her bags. "Oh we're gonna have fun-to-night!"

"What exactly are we doing?" asked Emily.

"It's a surprise silly, but yes there will be alcohol of course." She then turns to you, walking up to go to elevator arm in arm.

"Y/N," she says, rambling to you how the team usually celebrates and what the plan was as you make your way to the elevator, "ok usually we'd go to our favorite restaurant or club or go to rossi's when we can but tonight I really want to celebrate the success on your first case!"

"Aww, Garcia!" you said as Morgan pressed the button, "Your so sweet. Thank you guys, seriously."

"Trust me, Y/N, this night is going to be one of the best nights ever!"

At Garcia’s Morgan sets the alcohol on the counter as everyone settles in. You sit on the couch with Spencer and Emily, getting a good look of Garcia's apartment. Purple walls with shiny (plastic) jewl's, cat toys filled most of the corners. Just as you saw the toys, a black cat jumps onto your lap making you jump a little.

"Aww, Sergio!" said Emily, "Thank you again Garcia for watching him for me while I go on cases."

"Are you kidding me? He's become a lovely roommate at the Garcia Gardens!" says Garcia as she brings over some bottles and glasses. She sets them down and begins to pour the Vodka shots.

"Garcia 'Gardens"? Jj asked.

"They both have G's, I don't know it seemed to work." They both laugh.

Morgan helps Garcia pass out the shots, getting ready for a toast. Everyone stands up, holding theirs shots a few inches away from their face.

"I would like to make a toast," said Garcia, "not just for the success of this case and because we have a month off, but to Y/N. She has done wonders this week, and I am so happy and grateful that you are now apart of our little family. To Y/N!"

"To Y/N!" Everyone cheered as they clinked their shot glasses.

You thought you were about to cry. You've never felt this much love in a room ever.

Everyone took their shots and sat back down. You look over at Spencer and laugh at the face he makes.

"God, I usually don't drink Vodka but that was an experience." he says.

"Oh c'mon," you said, "already gonna pussy out?"

"Now those were fighting words, Pretty Boy!" Morgan chuckled.

"Is that a challenge?" Spencer asks.

"Ok, I'm taking the shot glasses away because I know Spencer can get competitive and I don't want you to get sick." Garcia grabs the glasses from everyone's hand and walks to the kitchen, everyone giving a little whine about it.

"So what was that surprise you had for us?" you ask Garcia.

She walks in her room to grab something and came back with it behind her back.

"Before I say anything," she began, "I'm not forcing anyone to do anything they don't want to do and if no one wants to it's not a big deal."

Garcia takes her hands from behind her back to show what looked like vape pens. "Nicotine?" Emily asked.

"Noooo nonono," said Garcia, "That stuff is not good for anyone. They're weed...pens..." Garcia got quiet. You could understand why she got nervous, who knew if this would happen or not.

"Baby girl," said Morgan, "You are the last person I'd think of for this."

"Her parents were hippies, Morgan!" says Emily.

"Good point." He said.

"But now the question is, how?" you said.

"Well yeah, my parents were hippies. Both of my parents did before they got pregnant with me, but my dad would smoke when I was a kid. He would always do it before bed so he could actually fall asleep. He had horrible insomnia which he gave to me. A couple of months back, I couldn't sleep for the life of me. Nothing was wrong either for it to happen, but nothing could get me to fall asleep or if it did I acted the next day like I got up on the wrong side of the bed. So, I went to a doctor and got my green card and I've had peaceful nights of rest since. I thought, since we don't have to go into work for awhile, why not have some fun for one night?"

Everyone looked at each other, unsure but also kind of wanting to.

"This wouldn't be a problem with work, right?" asked Jj.

"Oh god, no, if we only do it tonight it'd be out of our system by then." said Reid.

Everyone was shocked hearing that coming from his mouth. "What? I had to do a research paper on the study of cannabis use in college."

You wanted to be the first to agree, but then you worried that it would be a bad look on you, the newbie.

"I'll give it a shot," said Emily, "It's only for one night and we have a lot more time off than we usually get, why the hell not?"

Slowly, everyone else agreed, including Spencer, who no one in the room thought in a million years he would. Garcia passes out the pens to everyone and told them how to use it. She said if we liked it, we could keep them for only certain situations where you absolutely needed it.

We all start taking 3 hits, which was the amount she said to take first. She explained how one time she took too many hits at once and greened out really bad.

Garcia turns on some music and we all sit around, drinking the very special drinks she made for us. The girls had vodka cocktails while the guys had whiskey. After a few minutes, you can start feeling it. Your body begins to tingle and your eyes started feeling heavy.

"How ya feeling, kid?" Morgan asks after several minutes. Spencer just sat there, looking at the ice cubes in his drink.

"Honestly, I've never felt this before. I don't know what I feel but it's nothing bad."

You giggle at his answer. It wasn't funny, and you knew that. Maybe you were giggling because seeing Spencer high was adorable.

"Ope, we have a giggler!" said Emily, but your giggling made everyone else giggle with you.

"Boy genius, you are too adorable!" said Garcia, who was sitting on Morgan's lap, her head on his shoulder.

You take more hits as the night goes on. At one point you had to stop because you were really baked. You've smoked before, so you knew your limit. You look over at Spencer again, but this time he was really sinked in the couch, looking up at the ceiling. What could that big brain be thinking in that now empty skull?

You were about to ask him but Garcia got up and grabbed an empty vodka bottle. "Who wants to play truth or dare?"

Everyone said they were in, except for Jj, who was already passed out in her chair.

"Damn, gone already?" Spencer says.

"You owe me five bucks tomorrow, Y/N" said Morgan. Earlier, you bet Morgan that Jj would stay up because he said she wouldn't. She tried her hardest, but sadly Morgan won. You move your head to Spencer's lap. You felt very cuddly for some reason, and Spencer was right next to you. He flinched a little, but then after a minute he started playing with your hair.

Garcia puts the empty bottle on the table and spins it. It lands on Emily. "Truth." she says.

"Have you ever made out with a girl?" asked Garcia.

"Are you kidding? Of course I have," she got quiet then murmured, "And I loved it."

"I knew it!" said Garcia.

Emily spins and it lands on Morgan. "Dare."

"I dare you to give Garcia a kiss! No making out, just a peck on the lips."

It happened, their banter had finally caught up with them. Derek and Penelope go in for the peck and once so they blushed.

Spencer was still playing with his hair. You looked up at him and saw something in his eye. Not literally, but there was something going on in his head. His eyes sparkled underneath the apartment lights. His mind must've been running all over the place thinking of something trippy, or maybe he suddenly wasn't thinking at all, letting his mind wonder to thoughts he never thought of before. The bottle was rarely spun to either of you, so you decided to talk softly.

"What are you thinking about, Spence?" you ask.

"I'm thinking about everything and nothing at once," he said, "It's hard to explain, like I'm thinking of things I wouldn't normally. Or at least not on a daily basis."

"What is tha-"

"Y/N! Truth or Dare?" said Garcia

"Umm...dare." you slurred. Were you really that fucked up right now?

Garcia thought for a moment, then as she looked at the two of you, a light bulb lit up in her head. "I dare you to take Spencer to my room, shut the door, and make out for 10 minutes!"

"10?!"

"What, are we still in high school?" you ask sarcastically.

"Be glad I didn't suggest 7 minutes in heaven. Poor boy is just so innocent!"

"Can you even get up, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asks as you lift your head from his lap and start to get up.

Spencer takes another vodka shot and a few more hits of his pen before getting up. After gaining his balance back, you take his hand and walk him to the bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and goes to lay on the bed. Arms stretched out on either side of him, he went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking about now?" you asked.

He said nothing. You then lay next to him, doing exactly what he was doing. Garcia had put glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling. They looked brighter than they would've have been to you. Your blurry vision made your tingles more intense as the lights played with your eyes. It was almost really trippy, but you felt so good.

"I've never felt like this before and usually we put people away because of weed, but for some reason, I feel at peace with everything.

"I'm sure if you got your green card, Hotch would be more understanding towards it. If not, Penelope would've been kicked off the team."

He placed his hand softly on your thigh. Spencer, you thought to yourself, she didn't say it was 7 minutes in heaven.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you said, "We can just ramble about anything and tell them we did."

He then gets on top of you, holding your wrists down to the bed. "No, I want to. Unless you don't want to, but this is what I've been thinking about when I was playing with your hair."

You nod your head. You knew what he meant because you were thinking the exact same thing at that same time. When you met him, you didn't think of him in that way. But once everything kicked in that night, you felt yourself slipping into that 'what if'. You thought he was cute when he was giggling at you, and the way his fingers were in your hair, it was like you'd known each other for years.

Spencer's lips were quickly on yours. It felt like heaven, like he had done this before. You kiss him back, indulging in the sweet bliss. It was your time to return the favor, as you run your fingers through his hair. You were into guys with long hair, and Spencer seemed to fit the bill. But in no way were you catching feelings for him. He'll probably not remember this night at all, so why get your hopes up when he's doing this for the dare.

Suddenly, you felt his right grip let go of your wrist and slowly began to go down your body. It made you feel heat from the bottom of your stomach. You haven't felt like this in a long time, needing for someone's touch. You felt ready though, ready for that feeling again. The feeling of letting go and go forward in lust. He stopped, however, letting you know that he was asking if you wanted to continue without breaking away from your lips. You nod and a small quiet moan left your muffled lips, letting him know it was ok.

His hand continued to go down your body, feeling every curve he could. His fingers gently graced your tits and it sent shivers up your spine. Soon enough, you felt his fingers lightly rub the fabric that stood between him and your slit. His touch was so feather like you thought he was teasing you just to get you all worked up.

"I've hardly done anything to you and you're already so wet for me." He said through the kiss. You were shocked how his tone changed from sweet and innocent to dark and low. It kind of turned you on. Somehow, you went from being dared to just make out to what felt like was going into 7 minutes in heaven, except not in a closet.

He then continued to rub the fabric is circles as he broke the kiss. With the moon being your only source of light, you see the hunger in his eyes. He wants you and he wants you bad. He smiles as he moves the fabric over to the side and sticks his middle finger inside you, making you gasp at the entrance. His grin grew bigger as he really felt how wet you really were.

He sticks another finger in there and you let out a moan that you were trying to be soft about, but you were louder than you wanted to be. Spencer quickly covered your mouth with his hand, continuing to pleasure you. "Be quiet, angel," He whispered in your ear, "You don't want the others to know what we're doing, do you?" You shook your head. "Good girl, now tell me when you're close. I want you to cum all over my fingers."

You never thought of Spencer as the dominate type. He seemed so to himself and sweet. You thought he'd be more submissive. Maybe it was his cross faded brain talking, but this side of Spencer made you want more of him. You wanted so much more than his fingers. Your thoughts clouded you as you were reaching your climax.

"Spencer I'm close. I'm so close!" You quietly moaned.

"Hold it, angel. I want you to beg for me."

You couldn't hold it in anymore. "Please let me cum, PLEASE!" You begged.

"Cum for me, angel."

At that, you felt your whole body tense up and almost screamed at the pleasure, but knew to just whisper it and breathe heavily. He laughed with a bit of a growl, feeling you on all over his fingers. He was enjoying this, and you could tell by the tent in his pants. You wondered if you were going to help him out with that as your breathing began to go back to it's normal pattern. He gets off of you as the timer went off, and he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting yourself.

"Ok lovebirds, time's up!" you heard Morgan say.

You sit up from the bed as Spencer sat next to you. "We'll be right out!" You said, "Holy shit, Spence. I didn't think you had this side to you."

"Everyone does," he said, "I know I pull off this small and meak kind of person, but they don't know what I think about when I'm at home. Even sometimes at work when I'm stressed on a case. I'll just give myself a breather and let my mind wonder. I even-"

He stopped himself in his tracks, taking back what he was originally going to say. He stood up, pulling you up with him. Your faces were then really close together. "Now, tonight I won't have you touch me. We'll save that for another day ok?" You nod again. "What are you going to do about 'that'?" Pointing to the tent.

"I'm gonna take care of it in the bathroom. Now, we don't tell anyone about this. Especially Garcia."

"Yeah, it'd be a bit weird if she found out that you fingered me on her bed."

"Well that, and the fact that she can't keep a secret to herself for the life of her."

"Good to know." you said.

You did as planned and walked out, going your different ways. You headed back to the living room and joined the rest of your coworkers. You sat there and took more hits and more shots, hoping to pass out. You couldn't help but want to let your thoughts wonder on its own.

[corvixa]

I am alive! Long, rambly post ahead.

So. I did a thing. After 2 or 3 years on a waiting list of therapy, I got it. Good right? Ahuh...

A weekly appointment at 10.30 am is apparently my kryptonite.

It was fine at first, but I got utterly sidelined with the cumulative effect and the fact I wasn't able to reset my energy. But, I was determined like, I'd breakthrough.

Uh. That did not happen. All I could do was attend that appointment. For the first time since I started writing again post house explosion, I couldn't even write. I managed to not some ideas down. Carry on a few plots in my head. Still, even with my insomnia, I was stuck with my facemask on, desperately trying to get enough energy to eat, and occasionally failing even that.

After I had to take a break for a few weeks running for dental appointments and Covid Vaccines, I gained enough energy back to do that look around and reflect thing.

Hell, I might not have been perfect before this, but I enjoyed things. I chatted with friends. I lurked in the Stark Tower discord plotting new ideas. I got to write. I got to do real-world hobbies. I got to spend time awake with my partners!

So, after my vaccine and several days with a very high fever, I kind of decided. Fuck it. This isn't worth it. I have clawed my little part of this world out, and I am not going to lose it.

Sometimes you have to weigh up the cost-benefit analysis. What good may come from these 16 appointments was utterly stopper by the bomb dropped on my life. So I came out of my fever cave of blankets, had an incredibly hot bath and decided this wasn't working.

The early appointment alone was killing me; I am crepuscular by nature. Not being sarcastic there; this is how I have dealt with severe levels of insomnia since age 12. I tried being an average human that wakes up in the morning and goes to bed at night for decades, and it didn't work. I am most active after 11 pm, and I nap during the day. It's not a perfect fix; if it were, the Gold series would literally not exist as that is my Insomnia in a cape. However, sleeping at least once in a 24 hour period nearly every day is THE WIN. Being not awake at 10.30 am, but already at an appointment, where I was expected to be coherent? Weekly? With no variable illnesses? Even the stint in hospital I had was around me making these appointments... Not getting better from fall.

Honestly, I have no idea what past me was thinking, but after they went to 2 or 3 appointments and didn't feel too bad, they committed hard to this course of action. That was a mistake that I thought I had learned a long time ago, that assessing the work-life balance is critical. This might not be work, but it was the same thing.

So, How am I doing? Better. Not aces, but the Covid fever of doom made me miss last weeks appointment. The week before, it was the Covid.2 Jab and today I had the dentist.

And this morning, before my dental appointment, I started writing. My partners were over the moon. I am not back on full capacitor yet, but I am clawing my way back. Heck, I felt alive enough to prat about in the garden as my partner wanted to take a few pics of me given my pairing of BRIGHT TOXIC GREEN tights and lace trousers. I realised I hadn't set foot in the garden since this therapy thing started. My dog, Loki, was bouncing around like a loon bringing me every stashed ball he could find.

If anything gives you clarity, it's the excitement of a collie confronted with man balls, your partner's joy at you starting something you love again and actually feeling like a human being.

Ness is calling the therapy people when she gets the social confidence points required to deal with bombing me out of this whilst being my stalwart wall, so I don't get bullied onto the phone (hello, Hemiplegic Migraine) or guilted back into just trying a few more sessions.

It's not like my therapist was bad. He was cool. He dealt with this ADHD, Autistic, Severe Insomniac, Asexual weirdo and never once questioned any of these identifiers. I just don't have the energy to do anything back to back, week after week, at 10.30 am—even fun things.

So, I am probably going to sleep a lot. I am not back to my previous form yet; my Hubs is saying I made it out of the cave, but I still have Palladium Poisoning because apparently, I have infected his brain to think of things in Iron Man metaphors.

This is a bit all over, but I felt like I wanted to get it down. Especially for anyone worried about my sudden absence.

TLDR, the road to hell is lined with good intentions; sometimes the good thing becomes the bad thing, sometimes you lose yourself trying to do things the right way, and everything ends up wrong. Sometimes the right thing is the thing people see as wrong. All I know is that I wrote something for the first time this morning because of insomnia, and I couldn't be happier. My mind is starting to pick up speed again, this dense dog of confusion, exhaustion and pain is clearing, and I have goals.

Which I think is what really matters, right?

Oh, side note, some things did get done whilst I was busy being a zombie. After nearly 3 decades of waiting, at 33 (yeah, I've wanted to change my name a long ass time.) I got my name changed! So I can sign this off in a way that makes me smile. I dropped my old first name, and took my first middle name as my new forname. (I was, and still am, one of those ginormous name people.) I also went back in history and timestoned my surname. (So, I was named utterly after my dad. Literally, I have the female version of his name >.< but I wanted to keep that connection to my genealogy whilst not having my dads name.) Boom.

Enjoy the earlier mentioned pictures of me pratting about in the garden. I am a photographer. I do not know how to pose. What you are seeing is sarcasm 😅. (If you want to know where the fabulous tights came from, Google Snag Tights. They are truly a miracle and a gift from the Gods. They have actual sizes and don't tear after one wear, even if you are more leg than human. So you stretch and destroy tights by walking.)

- Morgan / M-Mac-C

[all-yn-oween]

Moceitweek2021- Day 1: Baking (I'm late but it's never too late to write some moceit, guys)

Day 1 : Baking

Summary : Patton stays awake a bit too long since a few days, and Janus gets worried. (Or everyone else wrote fluff, but I wrote slight angst with an happy ending-)

The night felt strangely calm. The floor wasn’t burning or covered with any slimy substance that Remus would’ve spread. Everyone fell asleep quickly, or at least, almost everyone.

Patton wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and sat on the couch in the main area. He glanced over at the clock, and sighed in exasperation. It was late and, even though he kept repeating that he wasn’t tired, the bags under his eyes said otherwise.

He had promised to Logan that he would go to sleep early, but it was mostly so he didn’t have to lecture him about the benefits of having a good sleep schedule.

However, Patton was stubborn, and he just didn’t want to sleep now. While he hummed to himself, he closed his eyes. He subconsciously yawned as he leaned against the couch, almost lying down on it.

Today had been a rough day. Everyone was so busy, and Patton had to maintain a good mood in the mind palace. Still, Roman almost killed Remus because he had put peanut butter on his walls, it had freaked Virgil out and he didn’t stop hissing at the twins for the rest of the day while Logan was just watching the disaster.

That’s why Patton enjoyed some calm.

He loved his kiddos but he just needed to relax and he often took the evening (and night) to be ready for another day.

The good thing about that hour, is that no one else was awake. Of course, sometimes Virgil came downstairs to grab something hot to drink during his insomnia. Or Roman would sit next to Patton and complain about the fact that Virgil didn’t want to sleep in the Prince’s room that evening.

That happened sometimes and Patton kept telling Roman that Virgil needed some room and he knew that the Creative side didn’t have a real issue with that. But of course, he wouldn’t stop bitching about it.

And after a few hours, Logan would be the first to wake up and would come downstairs to drink a coffee. The logical side would ask Patton if he had slept here, and Patton would shake his head no to make him believe that he was just an early bird.

Logan wasn’t taken in by Patton’s lies, but he honestly didn’t know how to react. He had tried to tell him to go to bed at a regular hour everyday, and in a comfortable place, but Patton didn’t listen. Logan saw that Patton wasn’t feeling well but he thought that he wasn’t the best person to talk about feelings.

So he just made sure that Patton wasn’t getting overwhelmed during the day, handling the twins where they became unbearable.

For now, it was still 1 in the morning, and Patton was exhausted. His head was resting against the armrest of the couch and he had half closed his eyes. The blanket still wrapped loosely around his shoulders, he was waiting.

He looked down at his stomach when he felt an uncomfortable sensation. He wondered what it was when he heard it growl.

Patton sighed in exhaustion, now wasn’t the time to eat. Even though it was true that he hadn’t eaten tonight.

Patton started to close his eyes but he quickly reopened them when he heard footsteps. They were coming from the stairs so Patton thought that it might be Virgil or Roman.

He quickly sat up properly, which made the blanket fall at his feet. He bent down to put it back, and Patton saw Janus in the middle of the stairs when he looked up.

His eyes widened slightly. Why was he awake that late?

Patton stayed silent, mostly speechless, and he kept his glance on Janus as he approached slowly. Janus was wearing a yellow sweater, with a snake on it. Patton recognized that it was the sweater Thomas made them. He was staring at Patton, frowning a little in confusion.

When he arrived downstairs, he walked towards Patton and sat down on the couch.

The moral side quickly realized that he should talk with him.

“Hi kiddo! Are you.. are you okay?” he asked, with a happy voice.

It sounded a bit forced, but the intention was sincere. Patton really wanted to know how Janus was doing and why he was still awake.

“Awfully bad.” Janus replied with a concerned tone as he looked over at Patton tired face. “I shouldn’t ask you the same question in return-”

Patton chuckled nervously as he heard Janus, and glanced away.

“I’m just okay! Just enjoying some calm! Why did you come here?” Patton asked, as he looked back at him.

He felt like Janus was seeing through his lies and managed to read his features like an open book. It was a bit odd, but Patton let him do by staring at him, straight in the eye.

Janus rolled his eyes after some seconds, and gave him with usual smirk.

“Oh I totally wasn’t worried about you, so I didn’t decide to come.” Janus replied, his answer startled Patton a little. He didn’t expect Janus to notice that he was staying up late, especially since the snake hadn’t said a word about it.

“You had a rough day?” Janus added, catching on Patton’s surprise.

“I- Not really, it’s fine.. It wasn’t that checkered…” he chuckled lightly and shrugged.

“May I ask why do you come here every night?”

Patton stammered a little, honestly taken aback by the question. So he had noticed and he just waited for the perfect moment to confront him…

“I-.. it’s complicated-” Patton ended up answering.

He saw that it didn’t convince Janus, but he didn’t want to say something else right now. He was so tired, he couldn’t utter a word, and Janus seemed to catch on that as well.

“It’s fine. We can talk about it later. You should get some sleep, you absolutely don’t seem about to faint.” he reassured him.

Patton nodded in agreement, he didn’t remember the last time he had the chance to lay on his bed. He had spent all his nights on the couch since at least two weeks. Janus wouldn’t leave him alone until he would make sure that Patton was asleep in a proper room. Patton was ready to stand up to go upstairs, but his stomach growled again.

Patton looked away as his breath hitched. He hoped that Janus didn’t hear the noise, but the lack of other noises in the room made that possibility rather impossible. He slowly glanced over at Janus, who had already stood up.

The moral side was ready to say something, when he talked.

“No, you go in your bed, and I’ll bring you cookies.”

Patton stared at Janus, in shock. He wanted to protest, but he only stood up as well, looking up at him. If he was going to accept, he wanted to help Janus at least.

“Let’s made them together!” he added happily.

He wanted to sound awake and motivated, but his exhaustion made things less easy than usual. Janus shook his head and placed a gentle hand on Patton’s arm.

“No Patton, now is not the time to bake together. Go rest, please. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” Janus retorted in a calm voice, kissing Patton’s forehead.

He blushed a bit at the kiss, as his eyes widened. He looked up at Janus, who had a caring smile on his lips. He wondered if the kiss meant something, he wanted it to mean something so bad. Yet, he was just too tired to ask about it, so he nodded simply.

“Okay.. Thank you Janus.” Patton mumbled, leaning into the kiss. He was often the one to initiate physical touch, but it felt nice to receive it and it made his heart flutter.

“Of course. I absolutely want you to starve to death or lack of sleep.” Janus replied as he let go of Patton’s arm.

He already missed it but didn’t say it. Patton nodded against with a soft chuckle.

“So do I..” he added, as he looked up at Janus another time before walking towards the stairs.

Janus maintained eye contact until he left, and then go in the kitchen to bake him some cookies. Cookies were easy and fast to prepare, and Patton loved them. He finished baking them, and walked in Patton’s room, gently knocking before entering.

Janus saw the moral side, wrapped around his blanket and hugging a plush close. He smiled softly, and closed the door behind him and putting the plate on the bed as he sat down on the edge.

Patton thanked him, and offered him some of his cookies that Janus accepted.

Patton didn’t exactly remember what they had talked about, it was just some nice and calm conversation that they could have. He started to fall asleep on Janus’ shoulder, lulled by the calming sound of his breaths.

-----

So... yeah I didn't know why it went like this but it's fine I guess? Now I have to get ready for day 2 (I'm really late but shhhh)

I love this fandom-

[parkkrys]

What about werewolf Fives, where fives gets bit during a mission and transforms so Rex has to calm him down after he hides and convince him that he still loves him

Sooooo I messed up and Instead I wrote this in a modern au. I am so sorry but I will post what I got here and if you want the mission bite then pls let me know! I'm really sorry

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

Out of all things he wasn’t expecting this. To be bitten, by a damn werewolf. He didn’t get it; he couldn’t begin to understand the idea that werewolves were in fact real and now he was going to become one.

Fives panicked as he ran home, clutching his side as it burned and he could feel the stickiness of the blood that soaked through his shirt as he finally got inside. Thankfully everyone was in bed as he panted, moving to the bathroom and flicking on the light to see the bite clearer.

He was out in the woods on his usual nightly run when he remembered red eyes staring at him in the dark, a deep growl reaching Fives’ ears and he had panicked as it suddenly charged at him. Then pain flared from his side and the beast was gone but he wasn’t dumb. He worked with kids who loved fantasy things, and this, this fit a true description of a damn werewolf.

He hissed as he lifted the shirt to see the bite, the teeth had gone in deep and he didn’t waste time as he cleaned it up. Maybe he was overthinking, after all werewolves, vampires and wendigos didn’t exist, they were made up stories to scare little children at night.

It only got worse as he woke up to find the bite wound gone. Did he hallucinate last night? What the actual hell was happening?

“Fives? You alright?” Rex asked and Fives whipped his head up to see Rex standing in the doorway of their room, a towel around his hips as he had just gotten out of the shower.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You didn’t get to bed till late,” Rex pointed out as he walked across the room towards the dresser to grab some clothes and Fives just shook his head.

“Yeah sorry, couldn’t sleep.”

Rex nodded as he accepted the answer. They both knew that Fives always had problems with sleep, insomnia haunted him when he was a child and it had gotten better but sleep still didn’t come easily to him. Rex had helped a lot when they first started to share a bed together.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need to talk about anything sweetheart.”

“I know,” Fives whispered as Rex just gave him a smile, stealing a kiss from him before he set on getting dressed. How the hell was he going to tell his boyfriend about what happened?

He tried to let it go, living on with his life but strange things were happening and he knew he didn’t make up that night. Something was happening to him and he didn’t know how to control it. Tonight, was going to be a living hell if he couldn’t get his shit together as he climbed into bed with Rex. He couldn’t let him find out what he was, he would probably run or even worse stay but be terrified of him.

It was fine at first as they settled down to sleep, Fives let out a breath thinking maybe he did have some control over this until the moonlight hit his skin. It felt raw, tight on his body as if it was too small and he wanted to scratch his skin with sandpaper, anything to make it stop burning. A sudden touch on his arm made him yelp as he fell off the bed, desperate to make sure Rex couldn’t see him as he felt his nails grow into claws.

“Fives!?”

He growled as he writhed on the ground, moaning in pain and he cowered as he heard Rex squat beside him.

“Fives, what’s going on?”

“I can’t,” Fives huffed out and he jerked as his voice came out deep, more of a growl than anything else and then next thing he knew Rex was staring down at him with wide eyes.

“What the fuck?”

“It hurts Rex,” Fives cried and suddenly Rex wrapped his arms around him, pressing in close and his skin stopped burning. The fear of hurting Rex was making Fives mind kick into overdrive, trying to push him away but Rex held on tight, not letting him go.

“I got you, I got you Fives stop moving.”

Fives slumped in his arms at Rex’s voice, the tone soothing and it made the panic disappear and Fives was suddenly exhausted.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rex soothed, the man seemed calm but Fives could tell from his rapid heartbeat that Rex was terrified and he only cried louder. He couldn’t lose him, Rex was everything to him.

“What happened Fives?”

“I was out for a run….. Then something attacked me and I don’t want to be a werewolf!” Fives wailed in agony and Rex only held him tighter in response. Rex was probably more than confused but Fives couldn’t calm himself down.

“Okay, okay,” Rex breathed out as he rocked them gently, “We will figure this out but you have to calm down. Breathe Fives, breathe. I love you and I am not going anywhere, I got you.”

Fives didn’t believe him, how could he? But he knew that if he didn’t try to calm down now he could either pass out or hurt Rex. He sucked in a breath, his body trembling as Rex spoke to him, his voice soft as tey went through breathing exercises together.

Rex said he loved him, even though he is a monster. Rex didn’t declare love easily, it took him up to a year to even say those words to him for the first time and Fives had understood. He breathed out slowly as Rex ran his hands through his hair, a gesture that always calmed him when he was worked up like this.

“I got you Fives, I’m not going anywhere.”

Maybe, just maybe he could believe him.

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 3

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo, Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech

Summary: Crosshair doesn't exactly like medical personnel. In fact, he hates them. They're always poking and prodding, calling him skinny, telling him he's not good enough. But then he meets the new medical examiner, the smart and kind and oh-so-pretty Joan Vo. And suddenly, he's not only looking forward to his medical check-ups, but he's also starting to question whether he wants to go to war after all....

Rating & Warnings: T/PG-13. Eventual fluff. Light angst. Who knows what else will pop up, but I’ll leave warnings when needed.

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be tagged for this fic.

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 3: Bitter Pill

As expected, the conversation among his brothers the rest of the day was exclusively about the new girl.

"Dr. Vo was already a combat medic when the war started," said Tech over their lunch in the mess hall. "The battalion on her home planet took her in, so she knows how to take care of us clones."

"Did you see the scar on her hand?" asked Wrecker during their afternoon fight simulation training. "She got it from punching a droid... a droid! And then she stitched it up herself. That's my kinda woman."

"Joan's got a lot of ideas for whipping us into shape," said Hunter while they showered off in the refresher that evening. "Exercise regimens, diet plans, even some good team building tasks. She knows more than the Kaminoans."

Crosshair had nothing to contribute.

The four of them sat in the common room of their small apartment as the night started to settle in. They had been moved into these private quarters, in a different section of the facility, just last week. Though it was cramped and cold, they were already getting used to the separation from the regs.

"What about you, Cross?" Hunter asked from the seat beside him and the others turned to him expectantly.

The truth was that Crosshair had spent the day incredibly angry with himself. He had not gained any level of insight into Dr. Joan Vo like his brothers had. He hadn't noticed her scars or asked about her life or heard any of her plans for their medical regimen. He had stayed sullen and silent in that damn room. And now, the one time he wanted to engage in conversation over a girl, he had absolutely nothing.

He shrugged, tying to come up with something. But what could he possibly say? The only thing she'd offered up was that she knew someone from the Umbara mission. But that wasn't significant; everyone talked about Umbara. And he wasn't telling anyone about his homework assignment. He'd ran all the way over here to stash the pad of paper under his mattress, making him late for training, just so he wouldn't have to explain it to anyone.

Hunter immediately sensed his discomfort and let out a chuckle, clapping him gently on the shoulder. "She probably spent the whole time reading your long-ass medical chart, huh?"

Tech and Wrecker nodded along, believing that must have been the case. Crosshair didn't correct them.

"I do hope she addresses your insomnia," said Tech, picking up a datapad he had been doing some casual research with earlier. "And your resulting caf addiction. Not. Healthy."

He gave Crosshair a pointed glare before returning to the screen.

"Ah, don't worry about ol' Cross," said Hunter, still in an easygoing mood. "Joan's a professional. She'll get him sorted out."

Crosshair pouted but no one paid him attention. He did not want to be "sorted." Or treated, or fixed, or anything of the sort. This professional could take her war stories and good ideas and shove them, for all he cared. In fact the longer he was spending away from the doctor, the less he could remember why he'd liked her in the first place.

"She's so pretty...." Wrecker sighed for the tenth time that day.

Oh yeah, that's why, thought Crosshair as he secretly sighed along with his brothers.

"Did you notice she doesn't use any of the medical droids?" Tech asked, getting distracted from his research yet again.

"Oh yeah," Wrecker said, "she hates 'em."

"I don't know about hate, but she told me they're better for the menial tasks like blood analysis. Only a human can truly understand another human, she said."

"I'm glad she sees us as humans," Hunter said, a little quieter. "Treats us like humans. Not experiments."

"Does she think we have a chance to deploy?" Tech sat forward. It was a commonly known fact the Kaminoans still had their doubts about the viability of Clone Force 99, and even the clone commanders helping with their training were hesitant to have an opinion one way or the other.

"She does." Hunter straightened, his duty as their leader kicking in. "But we still have a lot of work ahead of us, a lot to prove. She has advice, but we're the ones that have to do something with it. It'll be a hard couple of months. But we're coming out of this as the best damn clone unit in the galaxy."

Tech grinned and Wrecker gave an enthusiastic hoorah! Crosshair couldn't help but smirk, too, though he believed they already were the best damn clones in the galaxy.

* * *

They'd all gone to bed hours ago, but Crosshair was the only one still awake. The lights were out but he could clearly see every pen stroke on the paper. He was sitting up in his bunk, or as much as he could in the cramped space between the mattress and the ceiling, and was reading through the notes Joan had made during his visit, while his brothers snored around him.

Sharpshooter

Quiet

Confident

Wide peripheral vision

Long-distance vision: incredible

Dexterity: limber, flexible

Detached from emotions

Crosshair blinked at the last note. He'd been feeling pretty good about himself up until then. Detached from emotions? Was it because he'd said he was better than the regs who'd shot at each other on Umbara? He knew it, she had judged him for that comment, just as everyone else did. But it was the truth and he stood by it. How dare she try to twist it into some kind of character defect. And besides, what did emotions have to do with his health anyway?

He found himself growing angry again, his cheeks flushing and heart beating heavily. Without thinking, he scribbled over her note and wrote his own next to it:

I have emotions.

He cursed at himself. That was a stupid thing to write. He tried scribbling over that, too, but it was still obvious what he'd written. He scribbled harder, until the paper ripped and he threw the pen across the room in frustration.

He took a few moments to compose himself and quietly got down from the bunk. This was so stupid. She thought she had him all figured out, didn't she? She hadn't even read his chart, she had no clue just how different he was and how hard his life had been. How badly he wanted, no, needed to get off this planet and fight already.

He picked up the pen from where it'd landed in the corner, just as Wrecker let out a large snore. He was sprawled across a double bed against the opposite wall, while Tech was on the bunk beneath his. Hunter had his own room across the hall, specially-designed with sensory deprivation measures. It was the only way he could sleep most nights, especially with Wrecker snoring like a Bantha.

They were an odd group to be sure, and they'd already been through so much together. Crosshair wouldn't trade any of them for the world.

He hurried back into his bed, taking up the paper and quickly jotting a few things underneath the angry scribbles. That would show her. Satisfied, he re-hid the paper beneath his mattress and finally let himself drift off to sleep.

Determined.

Passionate.

Committed.

Loyal.

[harley-sunday]

The Draw - Epilogue

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end…

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader (unnamed OFC)

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 1.9k

AN: This it. It’s done. I don’t really know what to say other than that I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. The ending (part 17) was supposed to be something completely different up until last week, when eL convinced me to take the angsty-route. I’m glad she did, because it allowed me to include a piece in the epilogue I wrote a long time ago but never really got to use until now. Thank you, sweets! Here it is, guys, enjoy! ♥

Masterlist

His collar is up and his hands are tucked deep into the pockets of his jacket because it’s cold, much colder than it usually is this time of year anyway. He looks up at the dark sky and wonders if there’s any snow in the clouds that slowly drift by, trying to remember if he’s heard anything about it on the news earlier that day but not recalling a weather warning going out. 

He’s on his way home after another meeting with his lawyer, who, for some reason, always insists they meet in a restaurant rather than his office. It’s never during normal business hours either but always late at night, and always somewhere else. At first he was fine with the arrangement but it’s starting to annoy him that the restaurants have become increasingly more expensive and he’s always the one that ends up footing the bill. As if he doesn’t pay his lawyer enough to help him come out of this messy divorce as unscathed as possible. 

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the guilt that he feels about wasting three years of his life in a loveless marriage that never had a chance of succeeding in the first place. His therapist tells him to look at it as personal growth, but he doesn’t agree, not really, anyway. At least the court date has been set, he thinks, and this should all be over and done with two weeks from now.

He quickens his pace as he lets his mind wander, taking long strides, looking straight ahead and not paying much attention to the few people that are out this late. Most of them ignore him too. It’s New York after all. For a moment he debates the option of hauling a cab to get him out of this cold but he dismisses the idea quickly. He likes the walk home from downtown, it gives him an opportunity to clear his head and helps with the insomnia that sometimes bothers him. 

Crossing the street absentmindedly there’s something on the other side that catches his eye. He does a classic double take and then shakes his head, not quite believing what he sees. He must have walked by these storefronts at least a dozen times and tries to recall if the art gallery has always been there, but he simply can’t remember. The black canvas that’s displayed in the window is illuminated from above by a single light bulb, highlighting the various brush strokes going from left to right and top to bottom. He knows it’s called ‘Love’ before even looking at the little card pinned to the bottom right corner, and it’s like someone’s punched him in the gut. He first saw it a few years ago, when it was still a work in progress, standing on an easel in her guest bedroom in Charlotte, the paint still wet, and the black somehow less black. 

It’s then he notices the lights inside the building are on and it’s like his body has a mind of its own and before he knows it he’s on his way in. A bell chimes above his head as he enters and he hears a chair being pushed back in response somewhere. The space he’s in is long and narrow, only about fifteen feet wide, but the ceiling’s high and makes it feel more spacious than it is. There’s a wall about forty feet in, with a door that’s slightly ajar, and music flowing in from the back room, some song he thinks he recognizes but hasn’t heard in a long time. 

“I am so sorry but we are closed,” the voice is soft, coming from behind the door, but he would recognize it anywhere and he chokes up a little at the familiarity of it all. The door opens a little more then and all of sudden she’s there, exactly like he remembers her, “I must have forgotten to-” but she doesn’t finish her sentence because it’s then she sees him. Her eyes widen in shock and she actually drops the paintbrush she’s holding, her eyes never leaving his.

“Hey,” he says with a foolish grin, because never in a million years did he expect to run into her again, not here, and definitely not tonight.

“Hey,” she mimics, her eyes softening and the hint of a smile on her lips.

He takes the few steps needed to get to her, and for a moment he hesitates, unsure if she’d let him, but then he throws his arms around her and pulls her in for a hug. He can feel her smile against his shoulder, and he presses a kiss into her hair, because God, does it feel good to hold her again. 

“Here you go,” 

He takes the beer she hands him and waits until she’s uncapped hers before he raises it in a toast. She clinks her bottle against his and takes a swig and he follows suit. 

They’re sitting on the floor of what turns out to be her art gallery, their backs against the far wall, looking out on the dark street on the other side of the window. She turned the lights off before she brought him his beer, except for the lone bulb illuminating ‘Love’, and it feels like they’re in a little bubble, shielded from whatever’s going on outside and if someone told them he’d have a way of making this little moment in time last forever, he’s sure he would. 

He’s taken his jacket off, using it as something to sit on after she admitted she’s only got one chair here, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head resting against the bare brick wall. He’s got a million questions for her but he’s not sure where to begin and so he takes another sip of his beer instead, letting the silence settle between them.

She’s sitting next to him, close enough that her arm brushes against his whenever she takes a drink and it feels like there are little electric currents running through him every time she does. She looks up at him then, her eyes narrowed, almost as if she’s studying him, “You ok?”

He wants to tell her he’s fine, great even, but the way she looks at him tells him she’ll see straight through any bullshit answer he’ll try to give and so shakes his head, “Not really.” 

“Talk to me,” 

He opens his mouth to say something but then decides against it. They haven’t seen each other in four years and so much has happened but none of it they went through together and-

“It’s ok if you don’t want to,” her voice is soft and kind. She clears her throat then, “It’s just- I’ve read the articles about your divorce and- Well, the accusations she's made and- I don’t know, Seb, I figured maybe it has something to do with why you’re out this late.” 

“Yeah,” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He lets out a heavy sigh because he doesn’t want to bother her with everything that’s going on in his life, not really, but he also knows she’s a good listener and there’s no one he’d rather talk to than her right now. Looking down he plucks at the edge of the label on his beer bottle, deciding then to be honest with her, “I guess I should have fought harder, should have made it work, I-” another sigh, “They say you never know what you got ‘till it’s gone, right?” 

He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye, and then her hand’s on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze and it’s like a bolt of lightning runs through him, “Then why don’t you?”

His eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Why don’t I, what?”

“Fight,” she explains. “Try to make it work. If that’s really how you-” 

“Would you let me?”

“I-” she hesitates and pulls her hand back then, “What?” 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” he confesses quietly and when he looks up at her he sees her eyes are wide in shock. He tries to smile, “It’s always been you.” 

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes a little glossed over now. She doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t really know how to go from here so he keeps quiet too. But then she puts her beer down and stands up, holding out her hand to him, “Come on, I wanna show you something.”

He takes her hand and lets her pull him to his feet. She doesn’t let go when she leads him to the front of the gallery, her hand warm against his, and when he gives it a gentle squeeze she smiles at him from over her shoulder and it warms his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

She stops in front of a painting, reaching behind it to turn on the searchlight, the warm light casting a golden glow on the canvas. “I made this one right after we broke up,” she says, her voice a little rough, “took me forever to finish because I couldn’t stop crying.” His heart breaks a little, but she dismisses her statement with a wave of her hand, “I got there in the end. It was like therapy.” A smile then, “I submitted it to a local art competition and I don’t know-” she shrugs but he can tell it’s important, “People seemed to really like it. Someone actually wanted to buy it but I couldn’t- I would never.” 

She gestures around her then, “This is all because of that.” He must look confused because she continues, “I kept painting, had some of my work on display in local art galleries, but it wasn’t until I decided to quit my job after Deb retired last year and Mark got appointed as her successor that things really took off. More art shows meant I sold quite a few pieces, enough so I could open my own art gallery anyway.” She looks up at him, “I don’t really know how I ended up in New York, but,” another shrug then, “here I am.”

“Here you are,” he agrees quietly. He doesn’t know how these things work, if it’s karma or faith or destiny he has to thank for this, but he likes to believe that her coming back into his life at this exact moment was meant to be and he vows right then and there to never let her go. There’s still so much he wants to tell her, has to tell her, and he’s sure the same goes for her, but it doesn’t matter. Not now anyway. Now he just says, “If you’ll let me, I’m willing to fight.” He squeezes her hand, “For you.”

“Me too,” she whispers. “For you,” she looks at him then, “and for us.” She lets go of his hand a little, only so she can intertwine her fingers with his, leaning into him, her other hand on his arm. She nods towards the painting, “Do you like it?”

He looks at it then, really looks at it, taking in the different shades of green she’s used, which, even when they’re on opposite sides of the canvas, seem to pull towards each other, always meeting or almost meeting in the middle, and somehow he just gets it. “I do.”

“It’s called ‘The Draw’.” 

[smooshjames]

forget you not (epilogue)

‘cause we’ve come, we’ve come so far, oh, baby (or: a second chance)

word count: 4k

a/n: i finally got my butt in gear and wrote the epilogue of forget you not! i still don’t think i’m 100% happy with how it came out, but if i edit / re-write it any more my head will explode. a reminder that i didn’t write any of the songs mentioned in this story (they all belong to little mix). and here are the links to this chapter’s songs: x, x, x. while we’re on the topic of links, here’s one to my ko-fi in case you want to buy me a coffee. no pressure if you can’t (or just don’t want to), i’m just glad you guys take the time to read my work. i hope you enjoy, and thank you for all the overwhelming support, it means the world to me <3

warnings: blink-and-you’ll-miss-it angst (i couldn’t help myself), i think that’s it ?? this is just a lot of fluff and the happy ending we deserve

previous parts: one, two, three, four, five

You called exactly one week later.

It was around six o’clock (nine o’clock for you, Shayne noted). He had just gotten home from work and was contemplating what to have for dinner when his phone started buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket disinterestedly, figuring it was probably Damien or his mom. When he saw your name on his phone screen, however, his heart nearly stopped beating.

He took a deep breath and answered the call.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded mildly out of breath and hoped desperately that you wouldn’t notice. “What’s up?”

“I said I’d call,” you said. Your voice was shaky, your tone unsure. You were putting emphasis on all the wrong syllables. Shayne could picture you in his head; you on your couch in your nice New York apartment, dressed in something comfortable, a vision of natural beauty.

Shayne didn’t reply, just silently willed you to continue. He sat down on the couch.

“Um… it was fun. The sex, I mean.” There was a long pause. Shayne held his breath. “I would… next time one of us is in town, I think it would be good to hang out again. Maybe we can get to know each other again.” Another long pause. “Get to know each other like hanging out and talking, I mean, not like… not like wink-wink getting to know each other, not that I don’t want to have sex with you again, I just…” You stopped again, and he could practically see the grimace on your face. “Jesus, okay. I’m gonna stop talking now.”

Shayne grinned so wide he thought his face might get stuck that way.

“Okay,” he said. “I’d like that.”

Another pause, one which could have lasted three seconds or three years.

“I’m really glad we got to see each other again,” he said. He was careful to keep his tone light, decidedly avoiding any words that might send the I still love you vibe. He didn’t want to push the boat out on another chance with you too soon, but absence absolutely makes the heart grow fonder. There was a part of him that already had the color scheme for your wedding planned, a part of him that felt sure you’d give him a second chance. After all, you’d spent the night together, and now you were calling him back. That had to mean something, right?

But he knew, rationally, that you were still smarting from what had happened all those years ago, and he knew that you had every right to be. He figured you would want to take things slow.

And then, before his brain could really think about it, his mouth said: “I want… I really want to try again, if you… if you want to. I think we could do things right this time.”

So much for taking things slow.

There was another long silence. Shayne was almost certain his heart was going to pound out of his chest.

“I want to try again, too,” you said. Shayne felt his shoulder sag in relief. “I’ve missed you a lot. But, um, it’s late here and I worked all day. I should get ready for bed. I’ll have Michelle look at my schedule tomorrow and we can figure out a good time for me to fly back out there, okay?”

“Okay,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Shayne.”

The line went dead. Shayne sat back on his couch and stared up at his ceiling in wonder. A second chance. He couldn’t fucking believe it.

All he had to do now was get it right this time.

***

A month passed, and then two, and then six. You and Shayne flew from New York to LA and back more times than you could count. You squeezed texting, calling, and facetiming into every spare second. Shayne made himself endlessly available to you, and you did the same for him. You were constantly in trouble with Michelle for getting distracted during interviews and meetings and recording sessions. Rumors circulated that there was a man in your life, which, for a while, you didn’t confirm or deny.

You knew that you’d have to go public eventually, something you discussed with Shayne early on in your second attempt. You were both far more in the public eye now than you’d been five years ago, which meant people would put pieces together sooner than you wanted them to. Finally, after two months, the two of you decided it was time to call it official. Instagram posts went up, fans lost their minds, the comments of your Smosh video were dominated almost exclusively with references to you and Shayne.

At the four-month mark, you discussed moving out to LA permanently. You’d still be spending a lot of time apart while the band toured, but you would at least be able to go home to him full-time in between the months on the road.

Carly asked if it felt a little soon, and you told her it didn’t. If your first attempt at a relationship with Shayne had been more-or-less a strong one (save for the end), this attempt was iron-clad. Shayne had matured more than you ever could’ve hoped for. The years apart made him wiser, more willing to confront his feelings and his issues. And in your five years of being single, you had found something infinitely more valuable than a shiny new relationship: self-worth. You knew what you deserved, and a happy, loving relationship was one of those things. You no longer lived in fear of Shayne running off at the first sign of someone better than you. You were far more willing to fight for yourself and for your relationship. 

You spent a couple of months deliberating whether you’d move to LA. The time it took you to think was in part caused by some hesitation, but more than anything caused by the fact that the band was recording a new album. You couldn’t think about much of anything besides choruses and hooks and beats.

Your hang-ups about the move were more practical than anything; it wasn’t that you didn’t want to move, it was that cross-country moves were infamously stressful and problem-filled. Not to mention, the rest of the band still lived in New York, which might cause professional complications (and would most certainly cause personal heartache; you weren’t necessarily ecstatic about living almost 3,000 miles from your best friends).

You finally made the decision during a late-night, insomnia-induced facetime call. You called Shayne at four in the morning one night after tossing and turning for hours. He picked up on the third ring, and you could tell immediately that he had been asleep; his surroundings were completely blacked out, his face only visible from the light of his phone screen. He was squinting at the screen, face scrunched up in a way that made your heart swell with the urge to kiss him, as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. And when he spoke, his voice was gruff with disuse.

“Hey,” he said. He didn’t seem the slightest bit upset at being woken up, but there was definite concern on his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, “I’m sorry to wake you. I can’t sleep. I wanted to see you.”

If you lived in LA, whispered the ever-present voice in the back of your mind, you wouldn’t have to call him to see him. If you lived in LA, you’d be fast asleep in his arms right now.

Shayne hummed sympathetically and you heard the blankets rustling as he rolled over on his back. The angle was about as unflattering as it could have possibly been, but you didn’t care. In fact, you loved him all the more for it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said. His words were just slightly slurred, like his tongue was still heavy from sleep. “What’s keeping you awake?”

You sighed and scrubbed a hand over your eyes. “I don’t really know,” you replied. “A lot of things, I guess. It’s been a couple of weeks since we saw each other last, so I’ve been trying to find a good time to fly out there, but I’m completely booked for the next few months. The new album has been kicking our asses and we’re nowhere near where we need to be if we’re gonna make the deadline, so we’ve been working all hours, which means everyone’s sleep schedules are completely fucked. I’m pretty sure Alexis and Piper are still at the studio right now.”

He hummed low in his throat again, nodding slowly. There was a moment where he seemed to be debating which part of your speech to address first. “Well, don’t worry too much about flying out. You know I love seeing you in person, but I don’t want making time for me to be too stressful for you. I’m perfectly content with long-distance if that’s what you need to do.”

You smiled despite yourself. Shayne had established this rule early-on; you never needed to worry about going to see him if going to see him would jeopardize your work or your personal wellbeing. If you couldn’t handle the stress of a flight across the country, he would either come to you or you’d just make texting and calling work until one of you could get on a plane.

But in this instance (and in every other instance), you didn’t want to see him in person just so that he would be satisfied. You wanted to see him in person because seeing him in person was infinitely better than seeing him through the phone. You wanted to be there when he got home from work, to kiss him goodnight and good morning, to fall asleep next to him.

“I’m gonna move out there,” you said, surprising even yourself with the conviction in your tone.

“What?” he asked. The camera shook for a moment and you imagined he was sitting up in bed. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “Seriously. I’ll talk to everyone tomorrow and then I’ll call you and we can figure out the logistics. I need to be with you, Shayne. I think now’s as good a time as there’ll ever be.”

***

It took a month of you living together for Shayne to track down the old ring. He’d kept it all these years, though he could never quite put a finger on why. At least, until now.

As he rifled through his closet searching for the little blue box, he knew exactly why he’d kept it. For five years, he’d hoped against hope that you would come back to him. He’d hoped that despite it all, you could still be soulmates, just like he’d known you were before he went and fucked it up.

He found the box. It was a little dusty, but the ring inside was preserved perfectly. He moved it from the bottom of his closet to the back corner of his sock drawer, which felt like a more appropriate hiding place for a ring that was no longer going unused (hopefully).

You were currently back in New York to finish recording the new album, and then you would begin tour rehearsals in LA. The reasons for that were threefold; first, there was a choreographer based in LA that you desperately wanted to work with; second, the tour would kick off in LA, so it made sense to do the rehearsals in the place you would start; and third, you had convinced the rest of the band to do it in LA so that you could be close to Shayne. They, being your best friends and considering the other two reasons, had agreed happily. The proximity was good for Shayne, not only because it meant he got to spend time with you, but because it meant he could consult Carly. He figured that if anyone would know if you were ready to marry him, it would be her.

A week or so into tour rehearsals, the two of you hosted a dinner party at your apartment. You invited the Smosh Squad, the band, and a few other mutual friends. It was a challenge fitting everyone into the small space, but you made it work.

Shayne managed to find Carly after dinner was over and everyone had broken up to mingle. You were occupied with Olivia, Courtney, and Piper, and Carly was only talking to Damien, so Shayne figured it was his golden opportunity.

He sidled up to Carly and Damien and shot Damien a Hey man, you know what I’m about to do look (Damien was well aware of his plans, of course; Shayne had texted him the very second marriage popped into his head). Damien nodded.

“Hey, Carly,” Shayne said. She gave him a barely-civil look and took a sip of her drink. She still didn’t entirely trust him, which Shayne couldn’t blame her for; the way he understood it, she had been the one to pick up the pieces of the mess he made. He knew she was only playing nice with him for your sake. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“Sure,” she replied. She narrowed her eyes at him, obviously suspicious, even as she gestured for him to begin walking. “Lead the way.”

Shayne beckoned her into the bedroom, which was the only place not occupied by dinner guests, and rifled around in his sock drawer until he found the ring. He turned and presented it to Carly.

She choked on her drink.

“You’re going to propose?” she asked, volume just lower than a shout, obviously incredulous. Shayne shushed her frantically and glanced over to the open archway into the living room, thoroughly regretting not closing the door and praying to God that no one had heard. “Sorry, I just… Jesus, okay.” And then, in a much more reasonable tone of voice: “You’re going to propose?”

“I’m thinking about proposing,” Shayne corrected her. He set the ring back in his sock drawer. “I haven’t made my mind up yet. I don’t want to ask and freak her out. I figured you might know her thoughts on it.”

Carly narrowed her eyes at him, appraising. Shayne got the disturbing feeling that she could see straight into his soul; it was like she was looking through him, not at him. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Y/N is my best friend,” Carly said after a few seconds. Shayne nodded his understanding but didn’t dare speak. “After you destroyed her -- and you did destroy her, and it was your fault, even as much as she’s tried time and time again to convince me otherwise -- I was there for her. I have seen her at her lowest, most desperate points, and I have seen her at her most joyful. She is my best friend. She is my sister.

“All this to say, Shayne, that if you hurt her again, I can and will -- in fact, I am obligated to -- make your death look like an accident.”

Shayne nodded again, struck speechless. He was reminded of a conversation he’d had with you some time ago: he’d mentioned that he thought Carly didn’t like him, and you had conceded that she didn’t. But, you’d said, don’t worry too much. She’s all bark and no bite, and she just cares. She’ll come around to you.

As she stood in front of him now, fire in her eyes, tension in her shoulders, chin held high, Shayne was absolutely convinced that this woman was 100% bite. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak. He was somehow more intimidated by Carly than he had been by your family.

“I love her, too,” he said. “That’s one thing we have in common. I know that I hurt her, and not a day goes by that I don’t regret it. I should’ve done things so much differently five years ago, I know that, and I’m sorry I didn’t. But by some miracle, she’s given me a second chance, and I’m not gonna fuck it up this time. I want to marry her with everything I have, Carly. I need to know that she’ll say yes.”

There was another silent moment as Carly appraised him. She glanced over at the sock drawer, where the ring was safely tucked away, and then back to him. “Okay,” she said. Shayne’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

***

You rehearsed for two months before the first concert of the new tour. In the week leading up to it, you were riddled with nerves; you were exhausted from long rehearsals and yet you couldn’t sleep, you had to force yourself to eat, you had dreams of getting on stage and forgetting all your choreography, or, worse, the lyrics to your own songs.

Shayne did his best to help you. He stayed up with you when you were having insomnia, even if his work suffered for it the following day, and he brought you food sometimes when rehearsals ran past your allotted lunch or dinner break. He was a godsend.

Finally, the big day arrived; it was the opening night of your tour. The new album had been out for a couple of weeks and it was doing well so far. The concert hall was slightly bigger than the one you’d performed at last time you were in LA. But sitting in your dressing room with shaking hands, about to attend the pre-show meet and greet, the nervous churning in your gut felt eerily similar to the way it felt eight months prior.

And, like eight months prior, Carly came to collect you. You walked with her down the hallway and to the meet and greet room, which had an almost identical setup; white backdrop and four stools on one side, camera equipment and a friendly man named Rob on the other.

You and the rest of the band gave Michelle the all-clear to let guests in, and the meet and greet began.

It was around the halfway mark when the door opened and you heard familiar voices walking in. Your face split into a wide grin as Noah, Keith, Olivia, Courtney, Damien, Ian, and Shayne rounded the backdrop. All of you had grown pretty close over the last few months, between you living with Shayne and occasionally visiting him at work. You had actually been in talks with Ian to appear on a SmoshCast once the tour was over.

Hugs were exchanged between the band and all your friends. You greeted Shayne with a kiss on the cheek, and Courtney with the complicated secret handshake you two had been working on.

The entire massive group took a photo together, and then your adoring fans left to find their seats. Your heart felt lighter for having seen them, and knowing that they would be in the audience worked wonders to calm your nerves. It was the exact opposite effect of your last meet and greet experience with Shayne.

The meet and greet ended, mic check passed, and the beginning of the concert approached. You took a deep breath. You did your pre-show ritual. You got into places. The concert began.

The first half of the show went off without a hitch. The fans were obviously loving it, and you (miraculously) remembered everything you were supposed to do. You were constantly glancing back at Shayne and your friends, both for comfort and to make sure they were enjoying themselves. Occasionally, you’d make eye contact with one of them and they’d flash you enthusiastic thumbs-ups. Every time you looked at Shayne, without fail, he was looking back at you, which made your heart beat just that much faster.

As you were introducing Your Love, though, you glanced over and saw that Shayne was no longer sitting with the group. You frowned but figured he had gone to the bathroom. Damien flashed you a grin and a thumbs-up from his seat next to Shayne’s.

The song began and you didn’t have time to think about anything else as you started to sing: “Luxurious lovin’ like Egyptian cotton, if I ain’t got nothing, least I got you.”

This particular song hadn’t been written with Shayne in mind, but it was hard to think of anything else as you sang the lovey-dovey lyrics. Every time you glanced over at his seat, though, he was still gone. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you knew, but you were somewhat saddened by the fact that you couldn’t serenade him (or at least make eye contact with him) while you sang.

Alexis had the second verse. You were swaying to the beat and moving across the stage to your mark when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You almost ignored it and kept moving; you were in show mode, so you chalked it up at first to a backup dancer brushing against you or something of the sort. But then you took in your surroundings and stopped in your tracks.

Alexis was still singing, but she and the rest of the band had turned their eyes to you. In fact, everyone on stage was looking at you. The audience was screaming, and you thought you heard your name a few times, but it was impossible to make anything out, and a screaming audience at a concert wasn’t exactly unusual. Your heart still plummeted, though, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong. You made eye contact with Piper, standing off to your right, and she nodded encouragingly and motioned toward you as if to say turn around.

You did, and what you saw almost made you drop your mic. Your jaw practically hit the floor.

There, on one knee in front of you, was Shayne. He was holding a little blue box, and inside the box was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. He was smiling up at you, hope and adoration in his eyes. As your band-mates launched into the second chorus of the song, you nodded enthusiastically and allowed Shayne to put the ring on your finger. The audience was going insane. He pulled you into a tight hug.

“I promise I’m gonna get it right this time. I love you so much,” he said. You nodded against him. When he pulled back, he laughed softly and reached up to wipe his thumb over your cheek; you realized with a start that you were crying. “Happy tears?” he asked, just loudly enough that you could make it out over the noise.

You nodded and leaned in to kiss him. You weren’t normally big on PDA, and you were pretty sure kissing in front of a concert hall full of people definitely counted as PDA, but you figured you could make an exception just this once. When you pulled away and brought the mic back up to your mouth to sing, you kept one arm around his shoulders and hardly took your eyes off him. You could feel yourself missing your choreography, but you didn’t care. Your world had narrowed to just the two of you. Shayne, the love of your life, your fiancé, standing next to you with the biggest smile you’d ever seen, looking at you like you were his everything.

You finished the song and kissed Shayne again before he had to get offstage. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I’ll see you after the show. Knock ‘em dead, beautiful.”

And then he went backstage. A minute later, you saw him return to his seat in the audience, where he was almost immediately engulfed in a patented Damien Bear Hug. You smiled at your friends and then turned back to the audience. They had only marginally quieted down since the end of the song. You brought the mic to your mouth. “I’m engaged, ya’ll!”

A fresh round of cheering erupted and your band-mates rushed over to wrap you in a group hug. You felt another few tears spill over and wiped them away. You’d only felt joy like this a handful of times, and it more than made up for all the sadness Shayne had caused you.

You knew, as you launched into Nothing Else Matters, that this was the beginning of a long, happy future. Your life with Shayne would, of course, have its ups and downs, but after everything, you knew this for sure: with him by your side, you could weather any storm that came your way. And he was more than worth it.

[fearfilledvirgil]

Stargazing Lovers

Summary: Virgil was having a disaster of a day. That somewhat changed when he went for a late-night walk, bent on stargazing. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of insomnia/all-nighters, anxiety, intrusive thoughts

Word count:  4330

Pairings: analogical, platonic moxiety

A/N: this sprung from a word association game with @lovecrazyjennybear! She co-wrote it with me. and yeah hi hello im still alive hope y’all are too

masterlist

Taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @lovecrazyjennybear @the-incedible-sulk

~•~

Rain. Virgil loved it when it rained because of a multitude of reasons. When it rained, the sky was cloudy, and that meant that the bright, ever-blinding sun was gone. It was cold when water poured down from the sky, which meant that Virgil could wear his hoodie without any questioning. The sound of the rain pouring down on the roof and window were a comfort to him as well, which meant that his anxiety was at ease. Lastly, the rain produced a particular smell after it drenched the pavement, which was another great comfort to him about rain. Rain meant something to Virgil, and he certainly didn’t mind walking in it. He didn’t mind getting wet, getting cold, because that was just another reminder that he was, indeed, alive.

One thing that Virgil loved doing when it rained ever since he was a kid was jumping into puddles. Due to his anxiety that someone would be watching him and make fun of him for it, he didn’t do it often anymore. This didn’t completely stop him, however. Any time he knew there was no one else at home, he would go into the backyard and find the biggest puddle he could and jump in it.

Another reason he didn’t go jumping in puddles anymore was that he rarely wore his rain boots in public. He loved them, but they did nothing to help his anxiety. The black boots his best friend Patton got him had small purple rain clouds with lightning bolts coming out of them. They were a great match for Virgil’s personality, but not for his desire to not draw attention to himself. Virgil would only wear them out in public if he were out with Patton, as his rain boots were a generic bright yellow with a light blue clasp and sole.

Luckily for Virgil at this very moment, he was home alone, and the rain was pouring down harder than ever. He wanted to go and let out his childish side, but he couldn’t find his rain boots anywhere. He looked in every closet, cupboard, nook, and cranny to find the rubber shoes, but he was unable to. That fact alone made a weight of guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. Patton would be devastated if he found out that Virgil had lost the boots he gave him. The two always wore their rain boots out when they were together and it was rainy or wet. Virgil didn’t want to let him down, but here he was, unable to find what he was looking for.

Being the only person in the house that cared about cleanliness, he was usually the person who did all the cleaning. Virgil liked a clean house because an uncluttered space made his anxiety calm down. When he knew where things were, he was happy, but he currently did not know where his rain boots were. Therefore, he was not happy. Virgil didn’t understand where they could have gone. As mentioned, he was the only one who cleaned, so someone else wouldn’t have moved them anyway.

He knew that his anxiety would not help him in finding the boots. Virgil also knew that doing something repetitive like cleaning would help him relax enough to start thinking logically. He looked around for something that needed to be cleaned and noticed a couple of dishes still in the sink. With a sigh, Virgil got to work on making sure they were spotless. Once that task was complete, he felt calmer and level headed, so he began thinking of the last place he had seen the boots.

From what he could remember, the last time he wore them was when he went for a walk in the rain with Patton. Walks with Patton lead to puddle splashing, which usually leads to muddy boots. Where do muddy boots go? The garage. With that unclear memory in mind, he decided to attempt to find them in the garage.

After at least two hours of searching, Virgil found nothing. He looked everywhere in the garage from the high racks to the low crates. He could not, for the life of him, find his rain boots. At this point, Virgil had no motivation left to continue to look in the garage. The sun had probably set a while ago, so it was even colder in the non-insulated garage than before. To top that off, it wasn’t even raining anymore. Tired, stressed, unmotivated, and guilty, Virgil decided to retreat to his bathroom with his towel in hand.

With a sigh, Virgil turned on the water until it was nearly scalding hot. He then stepped into his shower, knowing full well that he would spend more time contemplating than actually showering. It was easy to with the water cascading down his back, and the darkness smothering his eyes. Virgil couldn’t bear to turn on the light, not when (in combination with other things) the night was so beautiful. He loved the night, the dark, so he reveled in it. The dark was where even he couldn’t see his own flaws.

After the water grew cold, Virgil stepped out, wrapping himself into his towel. Once he made it into his room, he noticed the clouds that once had covered the sky were no more. Without the heavy cover, the stars showed themselves to be shining brightly in the night air. Even though the puddle jumping was a failure, it didn’t mean he still couldn’t try and enjoy the day. The anxious boy could almost hear Patton’s voice in his head, saying that one bad experience doesn’t make an entire day irretrievable. Changing into black sweats, a black shirt, and his hoodie, Virgil made his way outside and towards a hill near his house to practice some Astronomy.

When he reached the peak, however, there was already someone there.

The person’s back was facing Virgil, clad in some sort of dark collared shirt. The figure turned around in an instant, probably in response to Virgil’s footsteps on the grass or his breathing that was becoming heavier as the seconds ticked on. The whites of the hoodie-clad boy’s eyes were astoundingly exposed, unblinking irises expanding tenfold at the star-lit face of the intruder of Virgil’s safe place.

The first thing that Virgil saw was the glint of the moonlight reflecting off of glasses. His first thought was of Patton, but when the light faded, Virgil tensed.

It was Logan. Logan Sanders, the biggest nerd who was top of Virgil’s class. The boy who never got below 95% on any assignment; the seemingly friendless tutor who no one ever saw outside of anything academic in nature. Logan, who usually was seen wearing some kind of formal attire, whether it be only a tie or up to a three-piece suit. This was the boy who expressed his few and far between emotions with his catchphrase “falsehood” screamed at the top of his lungs. Normally the accusation used to that caliber happened during a debate when someone would present a lie as factual, knowingly or otherwise.

Honestly, this guy was strangely calming to Virgil when he wasn’t fuming at other’s stupidity during an argument. He was calm, at least from a distance. Virgil never fully interacted with him before, keeping Logan and anyone else at an arm’s length. But Logan didn’t look down on people for not knowing something. He didn’t barrage people for not having the same understanding as him, instead helping the person see the problem clearer. He was a Logician, working on facts but never discarding emotions and experiences.

Virgil swayed on his feet, realizing that he had been staring at Logan for too long to be socially acceptable.

“You were in my Astronomy class last year, weren’t you?” Virgil blinked when Logan broke the silence. Logan took a small step closer to Virgil, tilting his head in curiosity.

“I… uh,” Virgil stuttered out, internally cursing himself. He made his feet take a half-a-step closer to Logan despite the churning in his stomach. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, trying to ignore the tension in his chest. “Yeah.”

Virgil clenched his jaw, disappointment in himself growing for how lamely he ended that pathetic excuse for a sentence. Logan seemed to notice this with a blink and a relaxing of his shoulders.

“Logan Sanders.” Logan offered his left hand gently, keeping it relaxed and pointed downwards slightly. Virgil was grateful for the fact that his other hand was still in sight.

“Um. Virgil,” His left hand shakily escaped from his hoodie pocket. Virgil almost wanted to scoff at Logan introducing himself, as if they didn’t share a year-long course together the year prior. Then again, Virgil had no idea how people usually introduced each other. With a harsh blink and a cringe in on himself, the uneasy boy registered that he didn’t give his last name as Logan had. “Virgil Casey.” The two hands met in the middle of the space between the two of them, and clasped together gently for a handshake.

“Salutations, Virgil,” Logan released Virgil’s hand, taking a step back. One foot was still facing Virgil, but the other was pointed toward a telescope that Virgil hadn’t noticed before. His body was half facing the other boy, yet still slightly away from him. “I suppose you came up here to look at the stars as well?”

Virgil nodded, putting his hand back in his coat pocket. “If you would like, I’d be willing to show you some constellations.” Logan blinked at how fast Virgil’s head snapped upwards from its downward position at his words.

“I know some,” Virgil’s voice hardened as his words cut defensively.

“I didn’t mean to say you don’t know any,” Logan’s voice was low, the vibrations from his words a soft hum. Virgil didn’t notice that he walked close enough to Logan to appreciate the cadence of his voice. “I was merely asking if you would like to be shown some more?”

“Oh. Um. Sure?” He didn’t mean the last word to be a question, but that’s how it came out. Forever unsure of himself, Virgil frequently made statements sound more like questions. It was one of the many things he disliked about himself, come to think of it. Virgil wrapped his arms around his torso, clawing his fingers tightly around his jacket sleeves.

Logan motioned to his telescope in a way of invitation, nodding his head toward it with the gesture. “I have this positioned to be able to see Apus.”

Virgil’s feet (not clad in his rain boots, something that still made his stomach turn) moved without his consent until they stopped in front of the telescope. He glanced away from the man beside him, settling his eyes on the telescope. “To see what now?”

“Apus. It is the exotic bird, or the bird-of-paradise, in the sky. Its name is Greek for ‘without feet’ because the Greek people once believed the bird-of-paradise did not have feet.” Logan took half a step back from his machine, allowing Virgil to take his place in front of it. It was a beautiful device, the most beautiful that Virgil had ever seen. The base color was black, the metal dark yet shining in the starlight. It had accents of dark blue it seemed, though it was difficult to tell in the dark. There were also silver linings on the telescope, pulling everything together into beauty.

“Oh my fucking god,” Virgil stepped up to line himself with the telescope. He let some of his anxiety go, wishing upon himself smoother emotions. “You are such a nerd.” Virgil leaned in to look into the telescope.

“Roman seems to enjoy calling me that,” Logan commented, more to himself that to Virgil. While Logan and Roman weren’t exactly friends, they did have a friendly rivalry going in their English class.

“He’s a prep who rules the school. It’s almost like it’s ingrained into his DNA or something,” Virgil didn’t look away from the telescope, enjoying the star shape he’d never knew existed. “Any other stars you wanna show me?”

Logan enjoyed Virgil’s enthusiasm at learning about space. It was something he knew plenty of. The two continued to look at different constellations long into the night. Virgil sometimes asking to know more information than Logan first gave on a particular group of stars. Before either of them knew it the two had talked until it was nearly morning.

Logan was the first to notice the time. “I will definitely need to correct my Circadian Rhythm seeing as it is 5 am.”

“Fuck, is it really?”

“I would not lie about that. It appears that I need to return home in order to get ready to go.”

Virgil squinted his eyes in confusion. It was now early Saturday morning, so where did Logan need to go to? “Where are you going if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My family is taking a day trip to the museum.”

Virgil looked at him. “Well I think you’ll have fun. Especially since you like the history and science stuff.”

“I agree it should be enjoyable.”

The two waited in silence for many moments more, both reluctant to leave the hilltop. Unbenounced to Virgil, Logan was apprehensive to leave. He didn’t want to leave Virgil–the boy who yelled and hissed and hit back but shook with fear once it was over–alone in this secluded place when it was still nightfall. Virgil didn’t want to leave because of a similar reason, but also because of the time. In about an hour, the sun would rise, and seeing it’s rays slowly but surely peak over the horizon from way up here was the most beautiful thing that Virgil had ever seen.

That is, not counting that look in Logan’s eyes when he’s rambling about something he particularly enjoys.

“Are you coming?” Logan’s smooth, if not tired, voice pressed in through Virgil’s ears, causing him to remove his eyes from the horizon. The other had already packed up his telescope and was seemingly ready to leave the hilltop. Virgil’s heart plummeted. He was the reason he was still here?

“It’s a little early to leave, isn’t it?” Virgil said under his breath. He still didn’t want to return home. If he could, he would live the rest of his life inside this one moment.

“What do you mean?” Logan asked.

“It’s just… The sunrise is always a wonderful thing to see. The way the sky slowly changes colors from the darkness of night to the bright color of the morning is breathtaking,” He turned to look back at the skyline. “Don’t you want to see that?”

Logan just looked at Virgil for a few moments. He could see that Virgil truly loved the idea of watching the sunrise. It was also clear that Virgil didn’t want to go home, at least not yet. Why? Logan didn’t know, but he couldn’t leave the other boy up on this hill alone. With a quick look at his watch, Logan decided he could stay until the sunrise and not be late for the family trip.

“That does sound pleasant. I suppose we should stay for it.”

“Wait. Really?” Virgil asked

“Yes.” Logan put down his telescope case to further prove his point.

“Thank you,” Virgil started out, taking a deep breath before shifting to get comfortable sitting down on the grass. “When it’s past 5 am, there’s really no reason in going to bed anyway. Getting sleep messes with being able to sleep the next night so…”

“I take it you have sleepless nights often, then?” Logan countered as he sat down next to Virgil. Very close to him, Virgil noticed instantly. “That cannot be good for your health.”

“I try to avoid it, but it’s bound to happen.” Virgil put his arms around his knees, going silent as the faintest peaks of sunlight started to slide over the horizon. The sunrise was early today, he supposed.

The light was fascinating. It crawled slower than a snail’s pace, but it still lit up the sky as it did so. It grew and grew, creeping up and out of the hills with every passing moment. Soon, the grave the sun made for itself was opening wider, allowing a sliver of the sun to be shown. The sky had taken a golden hue near the horizon a long while ago, the gold rays of light infecting the dark navy sky and bringing it to life. It was a painfully slow process, but as Virgil watched it in silence with Logan by his side, he could never have asked for anything more.

The sun was up. It was now shining brightly just over the horizon. It hurt to look at now, but that wasn’t stopping Virgil. He still didn’t move.

“Is there,” Logan paused, swallowed, and shifted so he faced Virgil. “Is there a particular reason you haven’t departed yet?”

“Hmm?” Virgil hummed instead of giving a worded answer. He turned away from the cloud-obscured sun to look at Logan.

Logan’s lips were pursed, eyebrows tighter than before. It was odd for Virgil to see, especially since the boy’s face had been relaxed for the entirety of their night together. “You wished to see the sunrise. That seems to have ended several minutes ago yet you haven’t made any attempt to move.”

Virgil shifted to put his hands under his legs, sitting on the shaking fingers. “It’s just... peaceful up here.”

“It is.” Logan needlessly adjusted his glasses. There was a pause, then, slowly, “However… I believe that there is another reason.”

Air heavily released from Virgil’s lungs, blowing out of his nose as his body deflated. Even after only a night spent together, Logan was able to read him better than most others. Not including Patton (who’s gift of rain boots he had lost and hadn’t been able to find). He wasn’t sure that he could tell Logan the many reasons why he didn’t want to go yet. There wasn’t a specific one, really, but rather a list of anxieties weighing Virgil down to the hilltop. “Mom’s out of town on a business trip. I don’t enjoy being home alone.”

“And your father is out of town as well?” Logan’s voice barely lifted at the end, as if it were more of a statement than a question. That was a reasonable, logical thought. Most people assumed that their peers still had both parents, especially at this age.

Virgil’s eyes broke away from Logan’s form. They wandered back to the sky, then fixed downwards at his thighs. “My dad…” The words were heavy on his tongue. “He died a few years ago.”

His father’s death was a sore subject. It was something that he never talked about, even with Patton. The two had met after his dad’s passing, so Patton never knew Virgil with both parents at his side. Virgil was certain that Patton was still under the impression that his dad died when Virgil was a young child, not a struggling teenager.

Silence rang out into the night as if Logan was at a loss for words. He probably was, considering the odd breathing pattern coming from him. It sounded as if Logan was opening his mouth, then closing it again, several times. “I, well... I apologize, Virgil. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t know, Logan.”

The silence that had begun after Virgil revealed something personal persisted for longer. It wasn’t an uncomfortable, stifled silence like before. Actually, the silence was nearer to the comfortable calm when they watched the sunrise. However, after a fair few minutes, Logan broke the stillness. “Unfortunately, I do need to return home.”

Virgil’s head reluctantly straightened up, slowly turning to nod in confirmation. He hated that the wonderful time had to end. A squirming, crawling emotion slithered in his chest. What if he’d never have such an amazing, peaceful night again? And with someone was smart and kind as Logan? There would be an uneasy sense of finality in walking home now.

It felt as if the air knew that this was something that would never happen again.

Logan picked himself off from the ground, moving to grab his telescope case. Unbeknownst to Virgil, the blue-clad boy was deeply lost in thought. The previous night was one of the most pleasant and calming that he’d had in a while. The hilltop was perfect for watching the stars, which he knew. What Logan didn’t understand until then was how nice it was to find someone who was as passionate about astronomy as he was.

“Virgil?”

“Hmm?” Virgil hummed in response.

“I was wondering if you would like to join me up here again Sunday night? Or considering it is nearly six in the morning, tomorrow night. We are due for an eclipse and while they are very pleasing to see with the naked eye, they are absolutely astonishing to see with the telescope. And it allows you to see some of the stars that are positioned closer to the moon you cannot normally see due to the brightness.”

Virgil’s eyes widened at the invitation. Logan–intelligent, seemingly friendless Logan–had invited him to spend more time with him? This couldn’t be the same Logan he knew from school. He had to be possessed or overtaken by a ghost or something. There was no way that he’d want to spend time with anyone, let alone someone who was such a mess.

Noticing the panic that gathered in Virgil’s eyes, Logan reached out his free hand to gently touch Virgil’s shoulder. The action made the anxious one jump, tense, then relax in the span of a few seconds. He never would have considered that someone like Logan would want to touch someone like Virgil. Logan’s hand remained on top of Virgil’s shoulder, just under his hood.

“I enjoyed spending time with you, Virgil,” Logan offered a twitch upwards of his lips along with a softening of the lines around his eyes and forehead. “Our shared interest and easy-going interactions make me want to see you again.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” Logan didn’t seem to mind that he had to constantly reassure Virgil of his anxieties. “I didn't realize that the night had passed because I enjoyed spending time with you. It’s rare to find someone with so much passion for something. You clearly love astronomy and wish to learn as much as possible. It’s refreshing actually.” The small smile never left Logan’s face.

Without realizing what he was doing, the anxious boy had wrapped his arms around Logan in a hug. When Logan didn’t initially return it, his thoughts started to get the better of him. He tensed, arms stiff but still around the boy who was practically a stranger. Why did he do that? Why did he think that was acceptable? Virgil probably just fucked up a good thing, didn’t he? Logan was merely being kind and he went and did something like that? He was such a dumbass.

Thankfully, a microsecond later, those anxieties were pushed aside slightly when he felt arms wrap around him. “Sorry,” Virgil said softly, wondering how that much of Patton had managed to rub off on him that he’d do something like that.

“It’s quite alright. I was just not expecting it.” Logan’s hands smoothed across Virgil’s back in a star pattern, as if he were drawing the shape. It was comforting, but the familiarity made tears begin to prick at Virgil’s eyes. His dad used to do that when he hugged his son.

Virgil blinked heavily. He tightened his grip on Logan, bunching the fabric of his shirt in his fingers. That level of hug lasted only a few seconds before Virgil loosened his arms. Both began to pull away.

“I guess, goodbye then?” Virgil mumbled, voice slightly wetter than he would have liked. It was slightly choked up, but thankfully Logan didn’t comment on it.

“It seems so.” Logan pulled his hands completely away from Virgil, their fingertips brushing for a moment. They stayed there, staring at each other, for a moment too long. Virgil cleared his throat, and Logan swallowed. His lips were turned upwards ever so slightly. “See you here tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Virgil shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. They were tingling for some reason that most definitely wasn’t anxiety. His mouth upturned into a smile to mirror Logan’s. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Logan echoed with a nod, then leaned down to pick up his telescope case. Virgil didn’t know when he had put it down. Both took a few steps away from each other with shuffling feet on the damp grass. Logan’s mouth parted, then quickly closed without further words. The four-eyed boy turned, let his feet begin to carry him away from (Virgil dare say) his newfound friend, before casting his head backward one last time.

The view he witnessed was incomprehensible.

Virgil stood just at the edge of the hill, teetering on the brink of disaster. The dim lighting of newborn sunlight didn’t allow Logan to see Virgil’s face in its entirety, but he perceived the most noticeable details. He looked calm, standing next to doom, face soft and blissful with the smallest of genuine smiles gracing his lips. The wind had picked up at some point, allowing the dark locks of the anxious one’s hair to float just so. His unzipped jacket was fluttering in the breeze as well. Jingles of the tiniest variety sounded from the zipper clinking against metal. The sun, partially blocked by clouds, shown vibrantly from behind. The rays that escaped the warmly colored sky protruded out from Virgil as a hollow of light.

“Goodbye, Virgil.” Logan found himself saying, breathless.

“Bye, Logan.” Virgil tipped his fingers off his forehead in a salute, his smile infinite in the sunlight. Logan turned away once more, his own smile growing exponentially, feelings in both of their chests swirling swiftly at the days to come.

[archonssun]

We Have Time

We Have Time

WC: 1732

Okay, yeah, this is gonna take place in the alternate ending, seeing as the last Noct story I wrote was both a) kinda shitty and b) sad.

You will always remember the first time you met Noctis. He had been such a shy thing back then, back when he had visited Tenebrae. You were from a lesser known branch of the Nox Fleuret family, being cousins with Ravus and Lunafreya. But you were the last of the branch; your parents had died years earlier, along with your older brother and sister. Sometimes, you felt so undeniably alone, only for Luna and Ravus to find you and cheer you up.

Your first encounter with the prince of Lucis was interesting, at least to the adults around you both. Neither of you had known of the other's existence until you had been looking for Luna.

*

“Luna! Luna!” you called, tears threatening to spill. You and your cousin always hung out with one another at this time, but for the past few weeks, she had been avoiding you. And you were afraid -- afraid that you were losing her the same way you had lost your older siblings. Out of sheer desperation, you had run into the greenhouse, crying, “Luna!”

You had found your cousin, along with an unfamiliar face. It was a boy, around your age, and he was sitting in a wheelchair with a book perched on his knees. When you had cried out, both he and Luna had turned to you. “(Y/n), are you alright?” Luna asked, standing from where she sat next to the boy. Unbidden, your tears started falling.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me, Luna?” you asked, voice breaking. “Because you have a new friend? Do you not need me anymore…?”

“(Y/n), that’s not--” But she didn’t get to finish because you bolted, running through the halls of Fenestella Manor. But you didn’t see the man standing in front of you right outside the greenhouse, and ran straight into his legs.

“(Y/n), are you alright, dear?” Aunt Sylva said, coming to kneel at your side. You curled up in a ball, hugging your knees to your chest as the tears fell faster.

“Does Luna not need me anymore, Aunt Sylva? Is that why she’s been avoiding me? Do I serve no purpose here any longer?” At your rambling, your aunt hugged you to her, shushing you and rubbing your back.

“I can assure you that is not the case, my dear,” Sylva cooed, brushing strands of your hair from your face. “Luna will always need you.”

“But--”

“I didn’t realize there was another child in the Manor, Queen Sylva,” the man standing next to your aunt said, making you freeze. You slowly looked up to him, feeling intimidated by the amount of black he wore. Yet, he looked kind -- and kind of like the kid Luna was currently with.

“Yes, she is my niece, King Regis,” Sylva offered, pulling you to your feet. “(Y/n), I would like you to meet King Regis Lucis Caelum, King of Lucis. Regis, this is my niece and Luna’s future advisor, (Y/n) Nox Fleuret.”

You were overcome by a sense of shyness that rarely showed itself as you hid behind your aunt, causing both her and the king to laugh.

“Dad!” a boy’s voice made you look to your right and see both Luna and the boy approaching the three of you. Taking a closer look at the man the boy had called ‘dad’, you realized that their resemblance now made perfect sense.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry,” was the first thing Luna uttered, and you were quick to hug her, almost sending the taller girl to the ground. Luna’s face was split with a sweet smile, and you glared at the boy.

It wasn’t until a month later that anyone had the decency to introduce you to the prince of Lucis, Noctis Lucis Caelum.

***

When Tenebrae was occupied by the Empire, you had been taken by King Regis to live in Lucis, apparently at the behest of your aunt. Queen Sylva had an idea that the Empire was closing in on the country, and had asked Regis to take care of you, the last of your lineage. It took a while, but you got used to the hustle and bustle of Insomnia, and began going to school with Noctis as a close friend.

That time in your life was very difficult, having to juggle between schoolwork and learning how to be an advisor -- that was your job, after all. The branch family of the Nox Fleurets have always been advisors to the Oracle, and that hadn’t changed since that role had been passed down to you from your siblings. You had spent many a sleepless night going over protocol, only to fall asleep during school. Many times you had been reprimanded by those at the Citadel. The only ones that seemed to give you some room were Regis and Ignis, the boy training to become Noctis’s advisor.

*

“I can’t do this, Ignis,” you sobbed, rubbing furiously at your eyes in an attempt to stay the tears. “I can’t! I can’t help Luna!”

“Yes, you can,” the older boy chided, shaking your shoulders gently. You shook your head at his words.

“I can’t!” You had had enough at this point. You were seven years removed from your home, forced to start anew in a foreign land without your family. Hell, you hadn’t even been able to take with you the one picture you had with them. Your body is filled with hopelessness, making your limbs sink like lead to the floor. Yet you still mustered up enough strength to throw the Nox Fleuret crest across the room. “I should’ve been the one to die, not them! Sera should be here, or even Sole -- not me! They would know what to do…”

*

When you awoke, it was to King Regis and Noctis sitting next to your bed, and an unfamiliar blond standing awkwardly in the corner.

“(Y/n)!” Noctis called as soon as your eyes opened, crushing you in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright!”

“I can’t help her…” you whispered, daring not to meet his gaze. You stared at the ceiling, feeling the tears begin again. “It should’ve been me, Noctis. If it hadn’t been for me, Sera and Sole would still be alive… I’m useless to Lady Lunafreya… Why did it--”

“You’re not useless, (Y/n)” The heat in the prince’s voice caused all in the room to stare incredulously. The lazy prince had never so much as raised his voice since you two had met, and your tears stopped momentarily. You finally met his gaze, taking in a sharp breath at the look that met you. “You can help Luna, I know it. Wanna know how I know?” You furrowed your brows as you waited for him to continue. “Because you’re still the same girl who glared at me while hugging Luna.”

***

When you were eighteen, you and Noctis became inseparable, bonding over your shared love of video games. At first, you were hesitant when the man had convinced you to play a game at the arcade with him and Prompto -- the blond that you had seen three years prior in your room -- but soon found out that they were pretty good stress-relievers. Since then, you have been hooked, spending most of your time not spent training playing games.

It was also that same year that you realized what you felt for the heir: you loved him. But you knew how he felt -- about you, and about Luna. He loved the Oracle dearly, and while it pained you, you were happy for your cousin. And when the wedding was announced as part of the treaty?

You died a little on the inside, all while giving your prince the brightest smile you could.

*

You wanted so badly to be able to go with Noctis on his trip to Altissia, but fate had other plans for you. Regis had you stay in Insomnia, planning on sending you to Tenebrae -- to Luna --  soon after. But when she appeared in the Crown City, his plans were dashed. And when Insomnia fell, you were able to escape with her and Libertus, putting all those years of training to good use as both you and Nyx had to fight to keep the Oracle and the Ring safe from the Empire.

And you followed after your cousin for weeks as you two travelled all around Lucis, forging Covenants and helping the people. But for a reason you couldn’t remember, you and Luna were separated, and you were left behind once again. So, you stayed in Lestallum, where Gladilus’s sister Iris was. She was happy to see you well, and quickly told you that the boys were in Lestallum as well.

As soon as you saw Noctis, you were hurtling towards him, clinging to him desperately. After weeks of not knowing what had happened to the man and his entourage, seeing him in front of you, breathing, made everything come crashing down all at once. Sure, you were getting weird looks from passers-by, but you didn’t care. You were finally back with your best friend.

*

“Noctis,” your sobs echoed in the street as you clung to him. All the frustration of being left behind not once, but twice, came pouring out all at once. Your body shook with the intensity of the emotions that wracked your being, and at some point you had collapsed, taking Noctis with you.

“Hey, it’s okay, (N/n),” he whispered. One hand came to rest on your waist while the other stroked your hair. “I’m right here. I promise, I won’t leave you again. You’re stuck with me, for better or worse…”

***

Ten years. It’s been ten years, and Noctis stood before you with a lazy smirk on his face.

“Hey, (N/n),” he said. You barreled into him, sending him to the ground as you straddled his hips.

“You little fucker,” you scowled, keeping his back to the ground with your hands on his shoulders. “You promised, Noct. And you broke it. Do you have any idea how much it hurt to not see you come home after you left for Altissia? I needed you when Luna died, and where were you?”

“Well, I’m here now,” he interrupted, a hand coming to graze your cheek before cradling your face. He pulled your face down to his, lips landing lightly against yours. “We have time, my queen.”

[sweetestrequiems]

The Tower of London

Requested by: A lovely and wonderful Anon! Thank you for sending a letter. <3

Character(s): Anne Boleyn (Other Queens are in it too, and even the Ladies in Waiting! But like Silence is Never Better, the focus is on one queen’s internal monologue.)

Summary: Anne Boleyn, the mystery. The one who changed history–– the temptress. What history tended to call her, when she just honestly lived her life. After one long two show day, Boleyn finds herself stuck inside of her head, unable to get out. As the Queens had a free day the next day, they were making plans to stay up all night and marathon movies. Little did they know though, that Boleyn was having another episode of nightmares. Slamming the door shut, she feels compelled to head to the Tower of London, needing the quiet of the square to allow herself to scream.

TW: References to Insomnia, Depressive Thoughts Mentions of Boleyn’s beheading/Flashbacks Nightmares Panic Attacks

A/N: This will also be posted on my AO3 account! But enjoy the Boleyn angst. She’s my favorite queen to write about. And yes, I have double and triple checked the foreign languages (French/German, since Spanish is my native language). This is fairly long, just a disclaimer of that. Enjoy it! 

––––––––––

“Anne Boleyn, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

“Watch me.”

But it was too late. The wooden door was slammed shut, leaving five women in bewilderment at what had just happened. This was not normal behavior for Anne Boleyn, and anyone could attest to that. What had been festering in her head over the past few days would not leave her alone. The slamming door made Katherine Howard flinch and hunch her shoulders reflexively.

“Annie?”

Now, what happened during the day that Boleyn acted out in such a manner?

––––––––––

Bright and early morning.

One could smell the coffee, and that partly due to the fact that Catherine Parr used a french press. There was the sounds of the morning bustle with a rather surprising outburst of laughter from Catherine of Aragon. The last of the queens to wake up was Anne Boleyn. With how she had been feeling lately, the second wife found herself staying up later than most usual nights, and that was late enough to hear the occasional groan of frustration from Parr while she wrote.

As the door to the room opened, the other queens heard it. And enthusiastically, they all looked over at Boleyn. Katherine Howard’s eyebrows furrowed just a little, but she just shrugged it off and carried on with her bright expression after a few moments. “Anne! You’re up late. You... okay?” Her cousin in pink ran over to her and grabbed her hands. Boleyn just looked up and yawned, nodding. A small smile came to her face. “Yeah, of course! Just slept in a little later than usual.”

“That’s how we all tend to get sometimes after our days off,” Anna of Cleves gave a laugh. “Come on, slowpoke. The last seat is yours and Jane didn’t want to start breakfast without you.” The German pointed at the chair next to the second empty one, which was Howard’s as she was up and holding on to her cousin. “We’re a big family, and as such, we will eat like one. At least in the mornings, because sometimes you ladies are crazy.”

“Easy for you to say. You and Anne are the craziest of them all,” a quiet snort from Jane Seymour. The blonde woman just shook her head and allowed her smile to be present. “Come on, you two!” The cousins looked at each other with a nod and went to sit down. “Now that we’re all here, we can––... why is it that you always only drink coffee in the morning?”

A little huff, and a bit of a heavier Manchester accent from Parr.��“I like coffee, what can I say? I also eat a bit while I stay up at night, you can’t blame a girl.”

––––––––––

1:30 pm. Thirty minutes before show time.

“Good afternoon ladies! This is your thirty minute call.”

A soft mutter from Boleyn as she responded, “Thank you thirty.” Aragon opened the door to the dressing room up, sitting down next to the green queen. “You still haven’t done your hair, bombon? Want me to do it for you?” A sigh was the response. Anne just looked up with tired eyes, shrugging. “Yeah, you can. I just haven’t been sleeping well these past few nights, is all.” Standing up, Aragon placed herself behind Boleyn, running her hands through her hair for a moment.

A knock. A collective “Come in.” came from both of the queens.

The one to open the door was Maria. “Hey. Parr wanted me to pass a message to you both,” the drummer found herself leaning against the door frame. “She wanted to ask if you two in here wanted to go eat after the first show. We’re all going, Maggie included after we convinced her to. A qué les parece eso, Lina?” There was a pause. Anne didn’t really want to go. She didn’t want to feel like such a negative ball of energy when the other queens were happy.

“Me parece bien. Necesitaban algo más, Maria?” Looking over to the door, Aragon’s hands kept working with Boleyn’s hair, trying to get her ready for the show. She had everything else done, and she was in costume, but her hair wasn’t done. “No, that was all. I’ll tell them that you’re undecided. Is that fine, Anne?”

“Oui. Je vais leur rendre visite plus tard. Merci, Maria.” Maria gave a very confused look at Anne, before realizing what she said. “Ah, okay! Yeah, no problem.” Then again, she just heard the “Yes.” and “Thank you, Maria.” as her clues to smile and give the queens a thumbs up. “I’ll leave you two to get suited up to kick Tudor ass. Ah, Lina, no te olvides de lo que hablamos.” Anne Boleyn just stared at herself in the large mirror. Something about her mood definitely did seem off. What was going on through her head? What could’ve possibly been burning at her core that she just couldn’t get off her chest? Well, the answer to that... quite simply put, is nightmares. She was reliving traumatic nightmares from the day of her beheading. She didn’t really know if she could get through the two show day without freaking out.

––––––––––

A thunderous knock rattled the doors of where she was being held in the Tower. 

Why was Anne in her modern body? Was this another nightmare? It was, and she could feel herself reliving everything.

Her right hand clutched onto her chest, the rattling of the door getting progressively louder. The once bright-eyed queen felt herself cower into the corner. Why was this happening again?

Just as soon as the rattling became a thunderous boom, the nightmare seemed to stop. This was not the case. Anne found herself now outside of the Tower of London, trembling. She felt herself be pushed down, and her head be almost thrown to the scaffold. Looking up at the massive crowd, she saw herself. Another modern version of herself, who looked just as mortified as the Anne Boleyn on the literal chopping block.

Right before the sword struck her neck, everything went black.

––––––––––

Anne jolted back into her reality, almost jumping through the roof when Cleves put a hand on her. The sudden short breaths from the one in green made the fourth wife worried. She helped her counterpart up, and gently pulled her towards the door. “Beruhige dich! Geht es dir gut?” The German woman gave a side hug to the second wife, with a nod being the thing she responds with.

“Ladies, this is your final places call.”

“Thank you, places!” Aragon closed the door to the dressing room and gave Boleyn a pat on the shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re with us. Come on, let’s go kick some serious Tudor ass and take our stories back.”

––––––––––

To think, that was only the first half of the day. The second half went much worse.

Normally, Anne Boleyn was one to go and greet the fans. Take pictures with them, sign things. But she quite literally could not handle the crowds tonight. Sure, it wasn't the first time this happened, but not even to this degree. Sitting in the dressing room, out of her costume and back into the pair of sweatpants and oversized pullover she loved to wear. Her hair remained down and all. Taking just a few deep breaths, her left hand came up to the choker.

It was burning like crazy. Her scar would not stop hurting. Her head would not stop pounding.

“Anne? Hey, are you ready to go home?” Katherine Howard, her beloved cousin. She wished she could share what was paining her with the girl, but she could not find the strength to open up. A nod came from Anne as she grabbed her bag and followed Kitty outside of the room, and to the exterior of the theatre where everyone else was waiting. “I got her! She was just zoning out.”

“Sorry. I just... I needed to breathe.”

“Well relax, babe. Everything’s all okay with us. You know we’ll give you the space if y’need it,” Catherine Parr nodded. The Ladies in Waiting all stood with the Queens, with nods going across the board. Maggie stepped up, gently taking Boleyn’s hands in her own and whispering. “Est-ce les cauchemars? You look pale from it.” Just a subtle nod from Anne. “Oui.”

“I figured so. Call me when you get home, okay? I’ll try to help you calm down,” with a smile, Maggie pulled Anne into a hug and then headed back to the other Ladies in Waiting. The four waved and headed off on their way, with the Queens all heading back home themselves.

This is where things begin to get messy.

––––––––––

It was about maybe 11:45 at this point. The stars were out and the queens were all in the living room, with Katherine somehow laying across all four of the other women sitting on the couch. Anne Boleyn? No where to be found. Probably in her room. 

She was staring at the scar in the mirror, choker tightly gripped in her hand. It felt like a fever dream–– standing in front of the mirror and seeing her head. The second wife felt herself beginning to shake. Her legs felt weak, her chest began to crush itself underneath its weight. Why wouldn’t it go away? Why wouldn't it leave her alone? She slammed the choker down on the vanity in her room, the thud getting the attention of everyone else.

A rather worked up and on the verge of tears Boleyn stormed out of her room, and snatched Jane’s keys from the key rack. That brought instant concern to Jane Seymour and the other queens. Katherine Howard sat herself upright and leaned forward. “Anne? Anne, what’s going on?”

“I can’t take the constant thundering knocks and the crowds! Everything burns, damn it! I... I need to go! I need some sort of closure for this,” Anne Boleyn started for the door. Jane Seymour immediately stood up, and started to pace over to the queen about to exit the house.

“Anne Boleyn, don’t you dare walk out that door.”

“Watch me.”

But it was too late. The wooden door was slammed shut, leaving five women in bewilderment at what had just happened. This was not normal behavior for Anne Boleyn, and anyone could attest to that. What had been festering in her head over the past few days would not leave her alone. The slamming door made Katherine Howard flinch and hunch her shoulders reflexively.

“Annie?”

––––––––––

It was going to be one hell of a drive. And she made sure to take her time.

But Anne Boleyn knew exactly where she was going.

The car seemed to have jerked to a stop, but it didn’t.

Shuddering, she got out of the car and closed the door, keys going into her pocket. Her steps began to feel like they were echoing in the silence. Looking up, her fists closed. The Tower of London, the very dreaded spot that she met her untimely fate, and where her cousin was murdered by Henry for things out of her control. Looking around, she realized she was alone. And for the first time that she could recall, she just fell to her knees, and let out a shrill scream.

“Damn you, damn you! Why don’t you ever leave me alone?!” Her hair fell over her face as she started crying. If she walked any father, she would’ve been where she was so many centuries ago, watching a crowd and awaiting for her head to get sliced off. “Let me live in peace! I just want to sleep one damn night!”

Forcing her tear-stained face to look up, she tried forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

The silence wasn’t unnerving, but rather welcoming. It was almost telling her to come closer to the Tower, and to the very spot she once stood in centuries ago. Standing up, with her whole body now shaking and her fighting back tears, Anne Boleyn began to walk forward. A slight breeze began to blow from the west, and it helped move some of the hair off of her face. Feeling herself fall to her knees again, Anne just screamed.

She was screaming. Yelling. Crying. Anything she could do to release her frustration. Her hands came up to her neck, and held it rather tightly in attempt to ease the burning down. She knew her throat would be shot from this. She knew she would not be able to sing, but she needed the release of emotion. It was almost cathartic to her. The Tower of London was giving her a second chance at letting her emotions out, as she couldn’t really do it on that fated day.

The breeze picked up as Anne continued to holler out and do whatever she could. The tight, crushing feeling of her chest was slowly going away. 

That was all she needed. She just needed to focus her emotions on something. This was that something. The silence was the something, and she could cry out to it and feel safe. There was no judgement, no looks of concern. Just Anne Boleyn and her feelings. Managing to stand up, she looks up at the night sky. Stars littered everywhere, but she can't help the anger from the recurring nightmares being her focus.

“Why, you bastard! Why did you have to kill her! Why us?! What have we ever done to you to get treated so terribly?! You broke Aragon’s heart, took my life, forced Jane into submission, made Cleves have terrible self doubt...” Her voice just got louder. “And Kitty! Poor Kitty died because of your total bullshit! It wasn't her fault! It will never be her fault! Do you hear me, Henry?! It was never her damn fault!”

––––––––––

She didn’t know the time.

Boleyn found herself at a lot more ease. Screaming until you literally couldn’t was not the healthiest thing to do, but it was the only thing she felt compelled to do. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she looks at the screen. Missed calls and text messages from the other queens. And Katherine’s was the most recent one.

Annie... please come back home. We’re really worried about you.

All she did was respond with, I’ll be there soon. I promise.

And true to her word Anne Boleyn was. She showed up back at the house maybe at around two in the morning, with the other queens all swarming to hug her when she got back. For the first time in maybe...  a while, Anne could say she felt okay. She felt... fine. And being in the silence for a few hours truly was what made her feel so okay.

[greekowl87]

Fic: A Transition of Sorts

A/N: Wrote my Pilot fic. It probably sucks because I wrote during multiple bouts of insomnia and just to write something so ere go, probably forced. Some of the lines are from the transcript from Inside the X. Tagging @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved @baronessblixen @improlificinsarcasm

Darkness and mystery surrounded Scully in her motel room as she carefully lit a series of candles throughout her room. Her first assignment as a field agent and it literally had to be in the middle of nowhere Oregon. She was tired. The day had been long and grueling and oddly enough, strangely satisfying. There was a mystery...a plausible explanation of some sort that could be discovered.

She shut her laptop, being careful not to use all her battery just in case the lights would be out longer than a few hours. She shuffled her notes and files, deciding to call it a night. Suddenly, the phone rang and she jumped slightly. She huffed to herself in amusement as she looked at her watch. She picked up the phone and greeted, “Hi, Ethan.”

“Dana,” he greeted. “How’s your first field case going? Find any aliens yet?”

“It’s not aliens, Ethan. But it’s going. I just lost power. This town literally is in the middle of nowhere.” 

She tried to keep it professional. She wasn’t really expecting her rocky, taking some space-boyfriend to call her. She had her suspicions for the past three months that he was cheating on her with someone else. Scully was able to solve the mysteries of death but not the one mystery of her cheating boyfriend.

“Well, maybe being a field agent isn’t what you’re calling is. You had a pretty sweet gig in Quantico.”

She groaned at his nagging. That was another thing had been growing worse too. “Well, I think I could do more good here than in a lab, Ethan.”

“Chasing little green aliens?” He scoffed. “What is that I hear? Spooky?”

“How did you hear that?” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, now I remember you telling me.”

“I’m a journalist, Dana, it’s my job to know. I heard he used to be quite the golden child back in the day.”

“That doesn’t matter, Ethan. I’m doing a greater good here helping these people than I would in the lab.”

“You aren’t cut out to be a field agent, Dana. You’re a doctor. It is a waste of your talents.”

“You think I can’t do it?”

“I just think that a woman shouldn’t be out in the field is a dangerous situation like that. You’re a doctor, Dana.”

“And I’m also an FBI agent!” She was clearly annoyed now. “Why did you call me, Ethan? To berate me? That’s why I asked you to move out to begin with.”

There was a noise in the background, a woman’s sultry. “Come back to bed, baby.” Sheets ruffled and a hand covered up the phone. She could hear Ethan’s quiet, “Not now, Trixie.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?” He hissed over the line. “Tricia stop it.

Scully rolled her eyes, berating herself for being so naive. Of course, she should have followed her gut instinct. “Goodbye, Ethan and don’t ever call me again, okay? Just leave me alone.”

“Wait, Dana...I can explain.”

“I’m done.” She slammed the receiver and rolled her eyes. How could she be so stupid? “Damn it.”

Her head was still swimming from the evening earlier of being out in the woods, their car mysteriously dying and restarting their case, and the emotions of what just had happened over the phone. Her heart was racing. Scully was upset. She could feel tears wanting to begin but she crushed the urge. She had to remain professional, still get Mulder to respect her. He was challenging her every step of the way and at one point, she began to question if he had any respect for her at all.

She ran her fingers through her wavy hair and got one of her candles to bring to the bathroom. A hot shower would clear her mind. She set the candle on the counter, ran the shower, and took off her robe. As her fingers grazed her lower back and felt two raised bumps. Panic set in. It coldn’t be…

As a storm raged, she rushed to Mulder’s door and knocked on it. The door opened immediately. Mulder’s surprise was clear. “Hi.” Scully’s mind was still racing. She felt panic, still striding high off her previous emotions. “I want you to look at something.”

He stood off to the side and motioned for her, “Come on in.”

Scully, with her arms crossed, walked into his motel room. Mulder shut the door behind her, sealing them off from the storm outside. She turns around and slipped down her robe. His eyebrows arched in surprise to see her only in her bra and underwear. She looked at him and down her back. Wordless, he bent down and gently touched her back. She jumped and he gently caressed her skin, soothing her frazzled nerves. He spotted two small dots and started to smile. He could understand why she would be so nervous.

“What are they?”

His smile grew wider.

“Mulder, what are they?”

“Mosquito bites.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I got eaten up a lot myself out there.“

Scully gasped in relief, blood rushing to her cheek as she slipped her robe back on. She instinctively hugged Mulder and she lingered. He hesitantly returned it, surprised at the physical contact. She suddenly realized she felt embarrassed and hugged him longer than she had to. But at the same time, it just felt...right.

“You okay?” “Yes.” Scully pulled away from the hug and tried to calm herself by taking a deep breath. “I’m fine. I just...I haven’t been sleeping well.” “You're shaking.”

She looked away. “I need to sit down.”

She sat down at the small table and he took a seat from across from here. “Take your time.”

“You don’t trust me,” she exclaimed bluntly. She clutched her chest, willing her heart to slow. “You think I am a spy.”

“Scully,” he tried to soothe.

“Don’t, Mulder. If you don’t trust, just any it! I know you hate having me here.” She got up. “It was stupid to come here!”

“Scully!” He grabbed her hand. “You didn’t waste your time.”

“You think I’m a spy,” she spat. Mulder didn’t deny it. “Your silence is deafening. I am sorry for bothering you, Mulder.”

She yanked her hand away, wrapped her robe around herself tightly, and grabbed the candle she had brought with her. “Scully, you don’t have to go out into that rain.”

“You made it perfectly clear. I was unprofessional. Good night, Agent Mulder.”

She jogged back to her room, avoiding the pouring rain and locked the door behind her. She set the candle back down on the table she had previously been sitting at. She moved to look for additional candles but had no luck until she looked under the bathroom sink. Scully chuckled at the irony of finding candles in a questionable hotel.

She lit the rest of the candles throughout her room and decided that perhaps she could try to review the case but right now, that was the last thing on her mind. She could read the book she brought for the flight but her mind was elsewhere. But her thoughts went back to Ethan.

Scully had met him on the rebound from Daniel, shortly after graduating medical school and being recruited into the FBI. Maybe she was still looking for that hole that Daniel had filled, but for a while, it worked. A successful up and coming journalist that covered Capitol Hill that was on the up and up to eventually go to national broadcasting. Ethan had nabbed a deal to a woman who was not only a medical doctor but and an FBI agent. At a Christmas party for his work, he paraded her like a prize...the oohs and awes from his coworkers still made her skin crawl...a doctor and an FBI agent? What a catch, Ethan.

Her father was so happy. His youngest had found a good man, her mother flirted the m-word, marriage. For a month she played with the idea, however, she caught him cheating the first time, and then things just went downhill from there. Tonight was the final straw.

She sighed and went to her bed, bringing a candle with her. “I’m single,” she repeated. “Fuck.”

She couldn’t fathom it and how much her life had changed in 72 hours. New assignment. A partner, could she even call Agent Mulder that, refused to trust her. Is this was being a field agent was? And now, she was free...single too. Was she free though? Ethan’s words still stung her.

Scully jumped when she heard a light knocking at her door. “Scully? You awake?”

She felt the bile rise up in her throat. “What do you want, Agent Mulder?”

“Mulder,” he corrected. “Um, can we talk?

She was reluctant to let him in. “About what? The case?”

She would not open the door.

“No. Um, about earlier, Scully…can we just talk?”

She got up and, after a moment's hesitation, opened the door. “Is this about the case?”

Mulder held his own candle and shook his head. He looked down at his feet. “No. I feel like I made an ass of myself, Scully. Can I come in or do you want me to stay out here all night?”

Scully looked past him to the storm raging outside. After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped aside. Mulder’s reluctance to enter was clear but he did so anyway. “Say what you have to say, Agent Mulder.”

“Mulder,” he corrected. He turned on his heel to tower over her. “Scully.”

“This is not some Tarazen and Jane situation,” she snapped.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly confused. “If this is about what happened earlier, I assure you it isn’t. I want to clear the air between us,” he said softly.

“There’s nothing to clear. You made that certain.”

“You know as a profiler and just as a good observer of nature, does your anger have to deal with the mysterious phone call with someone named Ethan you got right before we left Dulles?”

Scully glanced at him in the corner of her eye and sighed. After a moment, she answered, “He is, excuse me, was my boyfriend of three years.”

“So,” Mulder ventured slowly, “this happened recently?”

“Literally right before I ran over like a coward asking you to check my back. He told me,” she paused, “that this was a waste of my talents and that a woman should not be out in a dangerous situation such as this. I told him that I felt like I could do the best out here in the field, helping those couldn’t help herself, despite what people say about me.”

Mulder saw the unmentioned barb thrown his way, and her ex-boyfriend he supposed. “Well, what purpose does some guy have questioning the person who rewrote Einstein?”

She chuckled and wiped away a stray tear. “A journalist who cheats on you with someone named Trixie.” 

“Journalist...is it Ethan Minette?”

“You know him?”

“Not directly but he tried to reach out to do an interview of some sort. He seemed just like everyone else who has made fun of me over the past years so I refused it.”

“He mentioned that.”

“Can you blame me?”

She shook her head and turned to face him. “I’m not here to spy on you, Mulder. I’m here to do a job. I am here to. Find the truth, help these people, and solve this case...with you. I am tired to you fighting me each and every step!”

“Have you ever had a partner, Scully?”

She shook her head. “Unless you count a cadaver.” Mulder frowned in response. “Pathologist humor, sorry. Mulder, I’m here so we can solve a case and so I can ground our findings in science. So we can solve this case.”

He titled his head and nodded. “You know, Scully, it’s been a very long time since I’ve had anyone take me seriously since I had someone to trust.” He walked past her and sat on the floor next to her bed. “You get used to people making fun of you, teasing you…” He shrugged. “I’ve been on my own with the x-files so long, I just learned to ignore it. But when I got the news I was getting assigned a partner, a scientist no less, I can’t help but be suspicious.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, reflecting on Ethan.

“How long had your ex been cheating?”

“I caught him in my second year of our relationship. He swore it was a one-time thing. Then it happened again. Then I kicked him out.”

“Go, girl!”

Scully smiled and lowered her gaze. “I was trying to make it work because of my parents…”

He held up a hand and patted the bed behind him. Scully smiled slightly and picked up a white blanket and wrapped up around herself. She lounged behind him and adjusted the blanket to rest on her hips. “I know about trying to please your parents but coming as a third neutral party for this, Scully. I think you are better off without him. He sounds like a twat.”

“Twat?” 

“Sorry. An ass. An idiot. You did the right thing, Scully. So how did you find out?”

Scully felt a little lighter. Maybe Spooky Mulder wasn’t spooky after all. “Literally the woman said something over the phone while we chatted and I heard it. 20 minutes ago.”

“Ouch,” he winced. “Well, the fool didn’t know what he had.”

“What about you?”

Mulder’s head lolled back and looked at her. “Hmmm?”

“I give a little, you…”

“Fair enough, Scully. We’re going to be partners after all.”

The first time he had mentioned something more than temporary. Maybe he would finally take her seriously. “So, what do you want to know, Scully?”

She was quiet and then asked, “You had the whole world in front of you with your career, why the x-files?”

He smiled, surprised, and decided to trust her. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, we got time,” she countered.

He lolled his head back and took a deep breath, “I was twelve when it happened. My sister was eight. She just disappeared out of her bed one night. Just gone, vanished. No note, no phone calls, no evidence of anything.”

Scully was not expecting this. She propped her head up in curiosity. “You never found her.”

“No.” He smiled ironically. “I understand family pressures, Scully, trust me. Tore the family apart. No one would talk about it. There were no facts to confirm, nothing to offer any hope.”

“What did you do?”

“Eventually, I went off to school in England, I came back, got recruited by the bureau. Seems I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases.”

“I know the feeling. We lived on the West Coast when I was a teenager and I wanted to get out so badly to make my own name. We moved back to Maryland when I was 18. I tried to go to medical school out west but I…”

“Johns Hopkins, top of your class, recruited into the FBI,” he smiled, “something we both share.” 

Scully laughed and Mulder’s smile went wider. He faced her. “My success allowed me a certain freedom to pursue my own interests. And that's when I came across the X-Files.” “By accident?”

“At first, it looked like a garbage dump for UFO sightings, alien abduction reports, the kind of stuff that most people laugh at as being ridiculous. But I was fascinated. I read all the cases I could get my hands on, hundreds of them. I read everything I could about paranormal phenomena, about the occult and…” He sighed and drifted off in thought. “I found my sister’s file.” “What?”

“There's classified government information I've been trying to access, but someone has been blocking my attempts to get at it.”

The passion with which he spoke to her made her sit up a bit more. “Who? I don't understand.”

“Someone at a higher level of power. The only reason I've been allowed to continue with my work is that I've made connections in congress.” After a moment, he added, “The same freedom being the golden cow of VCU afforded the same connections elsewhere.”

“And they're afraid of what? That, that you'll leak this information?” Scully’s interest was piqued. “Mulder.”

He sighed bitterly. “I hate to tell you this, Scully, but you deserved the truth. You're a part of that agenda, you know that.”

“I'm not a part of any agenda. You've got to trust me. I'm here just like you, to solve this.”

He kneeled on his knees, twisting toward her. “I'm telling you this, Scully, because you need to know, because of what you've seen. In my research, I've worked very closely with a man named Dr. Heitz Werber and he's taken me through deep regression hypnosis. I've been able to go into my own repressed memories to the night my sister disappeared. I can recall a bright light outside and a presence in the room. I was paralyzed, unable to respond to my sister's calls for help.” He moved close, emphasizing, “List to me, Scully, this thing exists.” Scully felt like she could see his brilliance but a deep trauma that permeated his every move. “But how do you know…”

“The government knows about it, and I got to know what they're protecting. Nothing else matters to me, and this is as close as I've ever gotten to it.”

Scully could see why everyone thought he was crazy but she saw past that. There was something more to him that others’ could not see. “Why tell me all this, Mulder?”

“I’ve always trusted no one.” He shrugged. “Maybe, since I have a partner, maybe I should start trusting someone.” He nodded to her. “'I know you were sent to spy on me, Scully. I’m not stupid. But…” he paused. “I can see you mean what you say. You only want to solve the case.”

They shared a moment of mutual understanding before the phone rang. Scully jumped and Mulder rushed to pick it up.

“Hello? What? Who is this? Who is thi…” He slammed the phone down and turned to Scully. “That was some woman... she just said Peggy O'Dell was dead.”

“The girl in the wheelchair?” “Yeah.”

“Let’s go then.”

- - - - - - 

Days later, with their first x-files case solved together, Scully found herself sitting at a bar in a Portland airport dressed in jeans and the rain jacket she felt like she had been wearing for days now. Next to her a small duffle bag with some quick clothes she had purchased after their motel had gone up in flames. Next to her bag was Mulder’s. “Hey, sorry that took so long. I got us a flight in three hours non stop to D.C. I didn’t want to deal with any layover.”

“Good thinking.”

“You order yet?”

“Uh, no. I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”

“Usually unsweetened tea but, Scully, we’re off the clock. Why don’t you say we celebrate our first solved case.”

“If you can call it solved. There are still so many questions I have, Mulder.” She shook her head. “I’ve never studied anything or seen anything like it. I know the answers are there, Mulder. There’s probably a lot of logical answers to the files down in the basement.”

“And we’ll solve them. This is what the x-files is, Scully. Unexplained.”

“Do you think that is where the ‘x’ comes from?”

“For what?”

“X as found in explained? Or imagine if they called it the xxx files...unexplained to the third power.”

Mulder burst out laughing. “They might think the FBI solves pornos or that could be a porno. Two agents, out against the world, solving one 1-900 number at a time.”

Scully snorted. “So now we solve poor pornos.” She shook her head. “And what about celebrating our first case? Is that an olive branch I detect from you, Mulder?”

“So maybe you aren’t a spy and I am making the choice to trust you, to a degree. I don’t go around telling everyone my life story. Besides, maybe I am tired of being the lone agent. Maybe I could use a partner.”

“You’re the first one who has called me, Scully...outside of my instructors. Everyone calls me Dana or whatever. It’s always a boys’ club. I knew that going into it. Ethan didn’t help.” After a moment, Scully smirked. “You’re really bad at this.”

Mulder chuckled. “Well, I’m not perfect.”

She nodded after a moment and held up a finger. “Beer but just one.”

“Scully, we’re off the clock and I saw how you gripped the armrest during the turbulence and when we took off and landed. You don’t like flying.”

“Not particularly.”

“You better get used to it if we’ll be traveling across the country.” He nodded and put their tickets on the counter and tapped them lightly. “Um, I know we had separate seats last time but no such luck. I hope you don’t mind.”

Scully’s eyebrow arched. Another olive branch. “That’s fine, Mulder. Thank you.”

“So, how about some dinner and another beer before we fly?”

“You buying?”

“Why kind of partner would I be if I didn’t,” he teased. Scully smile coyly. Maybe he did trust her after all. “Besides, it’s only one beer. What could it hurt?”

One beer turned into two and three. They shared an order of spring rolls and spilt an order of meatball sub with extra mozzarella. The more Mulder got to know her, the more he felt like he could trust her.

“So,” Mulder said, pausing between bites. “You met Ethan where?”

Scully giggled and let her cheeks blush. He couldn’t get enough of that sound. “Of all places, a medical conference. I had just graduated from the academy and I was still fresh at Quantico. He normally covers the hill but because Thomas Miller was there…”

“The assistant director of forensics and pathology at Quantico?”

“The very same as the one who recruited me. It was by chance. He spilled a bourbon and coke on my dress. One thing led to another…” Scully shrugged looking down into her beer. “My parents approved of him but it only took a year before I caught him cheating. I was so desperate for…” She shrugged again and looked at Mulder. “I wanted so badly to believe that I could make something out of it. That it is a one-time thing. But it happened again. And again. Then I kicked him out.”

Mulder sipped his beer, intrigued. “So the phone call before we lost all our stuff?”

“I thought there was still hope. Even though he didn’t live with me, I thought I could still make it work. I’d invested three years of my life into trying to make this relationship work. We were already on rocky ground. I told him when I got the assignment and that I couldn’t have dinner with him because I was going to Oregon. I gave him my hotel phone number...out of habit I guess.” Scully shrugged. “But as I was talking, I hear this sultry voice from a woman named Trixie.”

“Trixie?” Mulder repeated.

Scully sipped her beer and snorted in amusement. “And then I just broke it off. Best thing I have ever done.”  Scully smiled. “It’s very metaphorical if I think about it. Right after I decided to cut all ties and all of our stuff was burned.”

“And our evidence,” Mulder said glumly. “We were so close, Scully.”

She hummed and held up a finger and reached into her jacket, producing a glass vial with a small implant. “You managed to save it.”

“It never left my side, Mulder.” She passed it to him. “That is our best evidence for what happened to Billy Miles and those kids. I can’t explain it but it’s a start. There’s still a lot more to do.”

He was once again taken aback. “You really aren’t a spy, are you?”

She laughed. “You still can’t get pass that, can you? Far from it. I was serious about what I said. I’m here to solve these cases, Mulder. Maybe my background as a scientist can give your explanations a bit more ground to stand on. But I want to do good in the world. I’m here to solve these cases just like you.”

He nodded and lifted his half full glass of beer. “To new beginnings, Scully.”

She smiled and he sensed a real, genuine smile. There wasn’t anything about her that was fake. She raised her glass and clinked it. “To new beginnings, Mulder.”

- - - - - - 

Mulder found his walls crumbling as he watched Scully doze against the window of their plane. During take off, they sat together and he held her hand tightly as she clutched his for dear life. Once they were airborne, and likely somewhere over the Midwest, she finally relaxed and slumped over towards the window. Mulder gently tugged on her hand. “I’m okay.”

She blinked sleepily and nodded. “I know,” he whispered. “But do you want me to ask for a pillow or blanket for you?”

“Finally trust me?”

“Just a bit.” He waved his hand slightly. “Can I…”

“I’m okay, Mulder.”

“Too late.” An air flight attendant listened as he requested a pillow and blanket. “See, I got you.” It was delivered promptly and Mulder offered them after the flight attendant left. Scully blinked sleepily.  She took the blanket and pushed the pillow towards him. “Agent Scully, we just met.”

She chuckled and lounged the seat back to get comfortable. Mulder didn’t know why, he did the same, trying his best to master the same angle. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

The plane jumped slightly like it had on their way into Oregon and Scully turned her head and reached for his hand. He held it tightly. “Thanks.”

He squeezed it. “Of course.”

- - - - - - 

At about 7 p.m local time, their direct flight from Portland landed at Dulles International in Virginia. The bump-bump of the plane landing on the tarmac woke Scully and had, embarrassingly, found herself sleeping about against Mulder’s shoulder. He just offered her a smile and said nothing about it. She blinked herself awake and watched the plane taxi to their ramp.

“Welcome back,” Mulder stated softly.

“Home sweet home.”

“So, Scully, you survived your first x-file, what’s next?”

“You sound just like a game show host.”

He shrugged and gave her a goofy smile. “Well, Agent Scully?”

“Just let me know.”

Mulder smiled broadly. “I’ll grab our bags when the plane stops. So, what’re your plans once you get back home?”

“Same old, same old.”

Mulder nodded and focused his gaze forward. As the plane parked, Mulder stood up first, unlocking the overhead bin. He grabbed both of their duffle bags effortlessly. “I got it, Mulder.”

“I’ll give you your bag once we get off the plane. Besides, I can run down people with these bags.” 

His joke got the laugh it intended. Unconsciously, she grasped the back of his jacket. “Just don’t lose me in the process.”

Mulder and Scully got of the plane, and once they got to the ramp, he passed her her bag. Scully slung her duffle over her shoulder and followed Mulder. She noted that, in the beginning, she had struggled to keep up. His long strides matched his determination to seek the truth. But now, he either purposely or unconsciously matched his stride to be in tune with hers. He touched the small of her back. “You have a ride back to your place?”

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

“Dana!” 

She stiffened when she saw Ethan rushing towards her with a bouquet of flowers. Mulder frowned, turning towards her. “Is that Ethan?” He asked.

She nodded slightly. “I don’t know how he knew,” she whispered back.

“Dana! I’m so glad you’re back. I was afraid you missed your flight.” Ethan stopped in his steps, seeing Mulder talking to her. “Agent Mulder, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” He offered his hand. “Ethan Minette.”

“I know who you are,” he said cooly, ignoring the offered hand. “You dogged me on a case a few years back and made my work impossible. We’ve met.”

Scully heard the chill in Mulder’s voice and shivered unconsciously. “What do you want, Ethan? How did you know where to find me?”

“I called your mother.”

“You didn’t tell her…” Scully pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ethan, we’re done! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Dana…”

“Goodbye, Ethan.”

Mulder wisely kept quiet and placed a guiding hand on her back and pushed past the ex. “Well played, Scully.”

“Is he following us?”

Mulder chanced a look over his shoulder. “No, but as a man, I would think you just took my balls as trophies.”

She stopped and couldn’t help but laugh. “Dana!” She could hear her ex-boyfriend calling her. “Don’t go off with Spooky!”

“Keep walking, Scully, however, you might become, Mrs. Spooky in the process.”

“I’ll take the chance.”

Mulder smiled boyishly and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Welcome to the basement,” he teased.

He escorted her to the taxi area and from there, they took separate taxis to their own apartments. 

When Scully got home, she stared at the empty apartment and went about her evening routine. By 11 pm, she was in bed and couldn’t sleep. By 11:21 pm, she flipped over onto her side and stared at the alarm clock. A series of thoughts rolled through her mind. She was officially a field partner. She jumped when the phone rang.

“Hello?” She answered unsurely.

“Scully? It’s me. I haven’t been able to sleep. I talked to the D.A. in Raymond County and there’s no case on Billy Miles. The case we filed was gone. We need to talk, Scully.”

Mulder? What was he talking about? Their case.

“Yes...we can talk about that tomorrow.”

He heard her sigh. “How are you doing, Scully?”

“With what? The case?”

“No. Ethan Whats-his-name.”

“I’m okay. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Scully.”

“How did you get my home number?” She asked after a moment.

“How did I get your senior thesis?”

Scully smiled into the phone. “Good night, Mulder.”

She hung up and sighed: how things had changed.