#I’ll always get depressed over holidays I’ll always be exhausted

[makkie-is-screaming]

the things I’ve inherited from my mom

[lilblueprint]

Anti-Hero

I’ll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero

At the end of the day, you are the one who saves him. Or, Jason gets the thirties blues and you take a hit, too.

Been a long time coming. I left a lot more to implication than I'd planned, but I hope you all enjoy this last Midnights piece nevertheless.

Tinnitus was screaming in his ears and his face was burning with heat from the previous explosion. He waited for the sound to fade out before springing at the remaining enemy. They went down in heaps of ash, and Jason sagged in relief. The smoke was clearing, but alarm bells were still going off in his head. Something wasn’t right.

Collapsing against the closest support beam, he tapped into his comms. 

“Hey, O. Can you hear me?”

The device crackled for a bit, then:

“I hear you, Red Hood. What do you need?”

“...who’s closest to my location?”

“--Red Robin is in the area.”

“Got it. Can you ask him to clean up here? I–”

His hand fell from his ear as his knees gave out. 

Jason hit the warehouse floor with a thud. He hoped the building didn’t burn down with him still in it.

“--Red Hood? Red Hood–”

.

.

.

“--Jason!”

It took a few tries for him to comfortably keep his eyes open. When his lashes finally settled, you came into clarity, leaning over him like an angel sent to collect him. 

“Am I still in one piece?” He groaned, forcing a smile onto his face. 

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. Ever so beautiful.

“Yes, you dumbass.”

He wrapped you into his bandaged arms, and you held onto him tightly as his wounds would allow.

-

Gotham’s sunsets were… strange. As far as Jason could remember, the light had always felt wrong when it washed over the city. Like it didn’t belong there.  

Maybe because I don’t belong here.

The manor was glowing on the hill to his right. To his left, shadows bounced far and wide as the light fluctuated between buildings. He kept his senses alert for fear of what he would see in the streets–Oracle had briefed them on a possible Arkham breakout tonight. 

Not him. He was on bedrest, or supposed to be. 

“Thought I’d find you out and about,” your voice called out. Groaning, he turned around with his hands up in mock surrender. 

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“You won’t hear the end of it from Alfred,” you teased. “Not that I’m any happier about you sneaking out when you’re supposed to be resting.”

He averted his gaze as your eyes fixed on him. 

“I just wanted some air,” he mumbled, turning back to the rooftops. You padded over to him, grit crunching beneath your sneakers. Your hand slipped into his, and he squeezed it gratefully. He didn’t have to look at your eyes to know they’d softened, that they were testing his waters. 

He didn’t stop you from diving in. He never could. 

“What’s eating you, Jay?”

“...I don’t know.”

You waited for him, slowly drifting the two of you to a corner so you could perch on the roof ledge. When you swung yourself up, panic momentarily spiked in him as he saw you lean back. His hands twitched towards you instinctively, his entirety gravitating to you in order to make sure you didn’t fall. If you noticed, you didn’t mention it. 

“Talk to me,” you whispered, brushing your fingers lovingly along his cheekbone. He chased after your hands, leaning into your touch like it could heal him, him and all his mistakes. 

“I feel blue,” he admitted. 

“Blue?”

“Blue,” he agreed. “I don’t understand what it is.”

The two of you stayed silent for a while. You rocked gently on the ledge while Jason was slotted between your legs, head resting on your thigh. His hand gripped yours tightly, silently pleading with you to anchor him to your shores. 

“Do you think maybe it’s the holidays? Y’know, seasonal depression or something?”

“Or something,” he muttered. Another quiet minute passed before you made a move. You leaned down, snaking your arms about his torso. Your hands traveled further and further along his torso before quickly slipping into his jacket’s inner seam. “Y’know,” Jason smirked, reaching down to grab your wrists, “if you wanted to grope me you could’ve just–”

“Found them,” you announced, producing a pack of cigs from the leather folds. 

Jason’s jaw went slack. 

“...how long have you known about those?”

“About a year now,” you said, biting the broken edge of your nail clean off. Wait, did that turn him on? 

You gently loosened yourself from his grip, standing up and gesturing for him to do the same. When he towered a good foot above you, you reached into his outer pocket and pulled out a lighter. Laughing at his flabbergasted look, you turned to give the flint wheel a little jolt. 

The rosy golden hue of the sunset was suddenly cupped in your hands, hazy darkness had descended upon Gotham like a blanket of snow. Jason was drawn to the light as you blew experimentally on the flame to make it sway, flickering across your palm. 

“You catch on quick,” you commented, looking at the open pack of cigs. He was hesitant to put one between his fingers, you hadn’t liked smokers since your Bowery days. But here you were now, smiling wryly at him like it was no big deal. 

He chanced a crooked grin as he tucked the cig between his lips. Ignoring the open flame just inches from his face, he nudged his way into your space. Rough hands took up their place on your waist, your arm rested across his shoulders, and he was so close. 

“Help a guy out here, darling.”

“My pleasure,” you replied smoothly, holding the lighter up between the two of you. Angling your face to avoid the first wisps of burnt black smoke, you set fire to the end of the stick. 

Two pairs of eyes watched the cig smolder. Jason readjusted you so that you were tucked into his side. When your head fell onto his shoulder, he released the first lungful. It clouded your eyes as you watched its course. 

“Hey, Jay.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to have you here.”

He didn’t reply, but you knew he knew. 

It’s good to be back, doll. 

[draiochteve]

A personal update post?

I’m doing a throwback here doing an update personal blog post. Kinda nostalgic doing this again after all this time away from tumblr, but I think it’s good to bring these thoughts into more of a public existence for historic sake. This existed and witnesses saw it. If you follow me on tumblr, a lot of this will be repeats with extra details and rambling, but there will be some new. Life is taking another shift. I’ve been hired back where I once worked, but now under sales until I get shifted to office management. How do I feel about it? Lukewarm. The money is always nice and this time the job isn’t destroying me physically. Mentally? Up in the air. Dealing with entitled customers and my anxiety with it all is a lot, but I am hoping with time I’ll adjust like it’s nothing. And with the end goal being no longer in sales, but desk work management type stuff, I’ll suffer it. It’s clear I’m heavily needed and wanted so I’m considered of value. Thankfully, I’ve learned to throw that around for leverage to set boundaries and so far they are being respected. Fingers crossed. The days are counting down until my wedding to my partner of 8 years. September 30th of next year and he’ll be living here by August at the latest. I still feel guilty dragging him out across the country to start our lives proper, but with all the circumstances, this is the best shot we have to finally getting me out of this shitty state and away from all my family. Am I taking advantage of the low ass rent and the goodwill of my family to get the best shot I have to get the best slingshot away from them I can? Yes. And while I know it’ll cause a shitshow when all gets revealed, after all they’ve put me through I consider this repayment. So where am I creatively? The best way to describe it is semi-dormant. It’s all there, lying underneath sediment of depression, exhaustion, and suffocation from my environment and my own fuck ups. I’ve self-sabotaged knowingly and unknowingly which paired with all my usual has really fucked me over. But I’ve making some changes to fuel my creativity and hopefully bear fruit once the holidays pass. For starters, I’m abandoning all word counting. When my therapist initially suggested it, she was trying to get me to see how every little bit I did contributed and meant something. And she wanted me to recognize just how much I was creating that I myself discounted. It’s helped me recognize just the sheer volume I’ve written since diving back into fic and that is something to be proud of. However, that has transformed from recognition of my hard work to competing with myself. I began beating myself up for not reaching arbitrary goals and forced myself to write a lot that I wasn’t happy with just to meet numbers. And for some people that works, but not for me. So instead, I’ve invested in a secure journal with a padlock and have begun tracking ideas instead that I wish to bring to life in some way. Stories exist in as many or as few words as they need. No word count can reasonably predict that that will be. I’ve begun working on the journal slowly, filling it with concepts and ideas I plan to write and ones I already have because it’s important to recognize my accomplishments. I have published a lot and I should be proud of that. There’s over 32 JaphRaha stories I intend to tell and well over 20+ more for other pairings, fandoms, characters, etc even if just one offs to fill a void for myself in regards to content. (I’m not going to lie, the bulk are pegging femdom fics. I’m sorry but too many characters out there deserve a good railing via the strap and NO ONE ELSE IS DOING IT so I suppose it falls to me.) Perhaps in a future post I’ll post pictures of my pages and plans, but most likely not. Just know they are plentiful and many I have yet to speak to others besides ramble’s in friend’s DMs. I have many years of my life left in me and these will be part of my legacy. Slowly but surely, they will come. And following the train of thought about legacies and leaving something for the world, I’ve been pondering greatly again about all my original fiction. I keep it under lock and key because they are born purely from myself and my experiences, but there will come a time I need to bring them to life. I’ve felt more confident and sure of myself about it than I have in years. There’s a clear desire for what I write and what I intend to make. Will I self publish? I’m not sure. A lot of the publishing world is fucked especially when it comes to sapphic stories which is a chunk of what I’m working on. Dare I brave it? I might be stubborn enough to bash some agents over the head about it, but otherwise I’m okay self publishing. Gotta think up a pen name though. Who should I be? What kind of enigmatic author will I become to the masses? Whoever I am, I’m sure y’all will be able to spot me like a volcano in the sea. Still working on mastering bookbinding for my own selfish desires binding my favorite fics, rebinding my fav books, and possibly binding my own stories. I still plan to make a zine once I’m settled and moved out and have finished the remaining pre 5.3 stories I have on my priority list. About 5 more to go? Plus a planned bonus story for the zine. Part of the project is also rewriting/re-editing some of my older JaphRaha fics so I’ll need to take some time for that. Otherwise, I’m looking forward to FINALLY doing that passion project and having it in my hands. Don’t worry, everything will be uploaded to Ao3 in a single multichaptered work eventually. But I still love the idea of it existing in the physical realm. The next year is going to be a big change for me. And it will end with me finally out of my parent’s house and away from a lot of the shit I get subjected to. Following it, I’m suppose to undergo a lot of new evaluations from my doctor and a psychiatrist (been putting it off until I’m out of here bc ofc my depression is through the roof atm) and make some plans to go from there. It’s scary, but maybe I’ll finally get proper answers. Idk how much I’ll change as a person being away as well. A lot of unknowns that I should have known a long time ago. So, here’s to the future. To the friends I’ve made and still keep near and dear who support me and my ridiculous JaphRaha rambles in their DMs. To new readers and old that I’m grateful are listening to me in the void. To bettering myself and finally getting some wiggle room to grow bigger than I ever thought possible. A lot of you have been here with my struggles and triumphs. And I hope to make everyone proud that I’ve finally escaped and am thriving. One step at a time. And every step is worth it.

[n0resistance]

2024

  It took me a few years to get to the point where I am as an adult 30 something living in New York. I finally live in a comfortable space and it has character for sure. Living in Queens makes me feel separate from the exhausting over productive city that I call home. I made my priorities minimal, and one thing I’ve been working on since 2022 is healing and understanding my emotions as well as past trauma.

I have always been constantly triggered, anxious, borderline depressed. What’s weird about depression is nobody can tell that you have it, especially for me. How can you be depressed when you travel all the time, how can you be depressed when you have an amazing relationship, and you’re social. You’re the one who doesn’t care about what people think about you. 

    Well; sometimes when we seem really happy the reality is we’re putting up a front. I was experiencing a ton of grief, grief of not being the way it once was, people changing, losing my grandfather and my dog. I’m still grieving it. Before, I made pretty good money but it felt abusive and I hated what I was doing. Which I would promise myself that I would never compromise my well being for money. It was a situation where I made a lot and also had the freedom to pursue the arts. However, I was neglecting my higher purpose. You feel that your purpose isn’t to just get through it and to soothe yourself later because you can afford it. 

   Traveling ends and you need a life outside your relationship. You need friends, work that matters, hobbies, and things that fulfill you. You need to feel good on your own or else you lose all balance. Balance isn’t really what society tells you it is. 

   I’ve achieved it at this moment, and am trying to maintain it. My partner and I live a lone finally (ha) in a neighborhood and place we enjoy, I’m not attached to my work, I cut out working full time and currently work a-few jobs. I have to be really on top of my schedule since I don’t work from home at all. This way I’m helping people with skill sets that took me years to hone. It’s led to make more money, spend less time on it, and help more people. So win/win. My motivation is to be autonomous, so I can create time to take care of myself, make art, work on my health, and spend time with loved ones. I’m not in enormous amounts of stress, finally. Never knew it was possible in New York City. 

   Now I’m dealing with the discomfort of calmness.  After always being used to chaos, drama, and even tragedy. This Christmas was a very calm one. I dogsat, my partner had to work at the hospital, he sacrifices so much for work. We just focus on each other, gave each other gifts. It was like a staycation with work. That was it. We also got to see friends in Ridgewood which was really really cute before going back home. It was an alternative holiday. There was katonah yoga, brunch at Russ & Daugthers, city views, dogs, only tourists on the streets and Christmas cheer. I didn’t want to spend another Christmas apart from my boyfriend so I had to make it worthwhile. This was a way to be together. 

    Holidays are triggering. I have a lot of memories with my mom especially because she loved Christmas so much. So even though I’m not used to this, I’m trying to get comfortable in simple and calmness. I just feel old enough to know that everything will work out and things will change. It’s important to adapt and flow. 

     This was my year of relaxing. It took so much to get a comfortable place to live, it took so much to not actively hate work, it took so much to find the love of my life. I’m living as best as I can by prioritizing. Everything else is just extra. The new project, event, trip, course that I’ll be taking. It’s just extra but before it was sustenance to my survival. Mainly because I didn’t know how to figure it out. I didn’t know how to say no or put myself first. 

    My experiences of finding yoga again, going to a comedy class, doing a play, creating an event, and not allow negative vibes take over was a lot of action and mindfulness. Pursuing those things have saved my life in one way or another.

   Before I was jumping from 1 unhealthy thing to another. Now, each thing I do is healthy with a healthy amount of it. I have a lot of resolutions this year that I want to incorporate in my lifestyIe. To be frugal, give up vices, Stop judging people, I want to eat well and read well, be around only good energy. I want to be a minimalist for real, and this the first real year where I don’t feel like my life is just me. I also have to adapt to my partner too, where his future takes him affects me, and also know what it is I want too. 

    To 2024, I’ll be turning 33 soon. I finally feel like a grown up. I just want to act like it now. 

[briamichellewrites]

122

Rob felt the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. In a very thought-out email to the band, he officially announced he was gay. His announcement came after years of hating himself and obsessing over whether or not he was convincing anyone by acting straight. He developed anxiety and depression because he was so scared of coming out and being accepted for who he was. Until he told Mike. It was because of him, he helped him understand how his sexuality didn’t change who he was.

I don’t want to hide anymore because it’s not good for my mental health. I’m still learning how to be comfortable with myself and not let my anxiety take control of my life.

He received texts of congratulations from his band members! They loved him, no matter what. He was their little brother and always would be. Their support was overwhelming! He couldn’t thank them enough. Would he tell Brad about his crush? No, he was over it. Phoenix asked to meet any guys he dated, so they could make sure they were good for him. He had to laugh at that.

Thanks. You’re a pal! – Rob

His counselor encouraged him into finding a boyfriend. He didn’t necessarily have to be Jewish. That wasn’t a dealbreaker for him. Because he didn’t drink due to his religion, he didn’t want a boyfriend who was into the bar scene and went drinking every weekend. He didn’t have any preferences for what he looked like or how tall he was, though it would help if he was around his height. His boyfriend had to be able to be okay with his career.

His band came first. That meant being gone in the studio or on tour. He missed birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries. His band was also his older brothers and best friends, so he also had to get along with them. He wasn’t in a hurry to find a boyfriend, though he wanted one eventually. Mike sent him a long text congratulating him for coming out.

Rob, in the past ten years I’ve known you, you have blown me away! It makes me proud and honored to be your brother. Even when you don’t feel like it, you are more than you think you are. One day you will find a guy and you will fall in love with him. I hope he treats you right because you deserve it. I love you and will always be here for you. Even if it’s the middle of the night and you’re having trouble with your anxiety or depression, I will be there. Call or text me anytime. – Mike

Mike had nothing but pride for him. Coming out was extremely scary. He felt like Rob could finally be at peace with himself and who he was. Because Elliot, Chester, and Brad were in rehab, he could finally relax. He slept like a baby after collapsing into bed. Phoenix texted him while he was asleep, so he replied to him. He replied he was just checking on him to see how he was doing.

I just woke up from a three-hour nap, so I’m feeling better than before! Lol. I kind of had a meltdown from stress and exhaustion when I found Brad drunk. He is in rehab. With that and Rob coming out, I feel like I can relax now for a few months. I am going to drive up and see Ellie for an afternoon, either tomorrow or the next day. Maybe I’ll join her for a therapy appointment or something. Just so she doesn’t think I abandoned her. – Mike

That sounded like a good idea. He was reminded to take care of himself, too. They didn’t want him to go back to the hospital. If he needed help or someone to talk to, just reach out. He promised he would. On the topic of Rob, Phoenix was so proud of him! It sounded like he had been having a lot of trouble.

Yeah, he had. They were all aware of his anxiety attacks and his self-esteem issues, but they had no idea he was fighting with himself. He was a private person and they respected that. It also made them overlook how much he was struggling. Had they known, they would have encouraged him to talk to a rabbi at his temple or another person of his faith. Maybe Elliot knew someone who was LGBT and could have helped him. Oh well. They couldn’t go back and change the past.

Elliot was having a good day. She was medicated regularly for her ADHD and anxiety. The nurse made sure she took the medications in front of her. Her brain chemicals were balancing out, due to being free from alcohol. She hugged him with a smile. Ellie! They then went over to the visiting center and sat down. How was she doing? She was awesome! What the hell happened?

She was five months sober. He congratulated her on that! She was also participating in the activities that the center offered. The other day, they went to a restaurant to practice being in the community. That was a lot of fun! She also got to spend time with the horses during her free time. How was that? It was terrifying at first because she forgot how big they were! Through helping take care of them, she learned how to trust them not to hurt her. She was sure one of them just had an attitude problem.

He laughed. Has she heard anything about her father? No, what happened? He was in rehab for his drinking. She didn’t know he had a drinking problem. Yeah, he did. He told her about finding him drunk and having him enter rehab.

“I don’t know how bad his drinking was but Anna confirmed he needed help. She was going to leave Shiloh with her parents and visit him for an afternoon.”

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I am. I was also helping Rob. Did you get his email?”

“No, I didn’t. What did he say?”

He went over everything he remembered. Good for him. He nodded. Yeah, they were all so proud of him. His anxiety was mostly from hiding who he was and being terrified of coming out. He was receiving help from a mental health counselor and he was doing a lot better than before. You should have him hang out with Jason.

“I didn’t think of that! Yeah, I’ll see if they want to do that. I was going to see if you knew anybody who was LGBT.”

“Not that I can think of right now. I’ll text you if I think of anyone.”

Her therapist told him that they had been working on her fear of abandonment, her PTSD symptoms, and how they affected her drinking. Was he her foster parent? Formally, yes. He co-parented with her father, so he was very much involved in her life for the past eight years and he thought of her like his daughter. Where was her father?

He was also in rehab for alcohol abuse. She was a lot different from when she first started. Instead of being scared and angry, she had a smile on her face. Going to rehab was just the beginning. She would have to work continuously on staying sober.

Did she have sober friends? Yes, Bradley and Chester. Her other friends drank but they weren’t alcoholics. They could keep her accountable for following her program. Mike asked who Bradley was. Bradley Cooper was a friend of her father’s. How many people did he know? A lot. She joked that was what happened when he was Brad Pitt. He laughed.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[messyworldxx]

Echoes of Memories: Transition of Pandemic Life to New Normal

I thought 2020 was going to be as planned, yet, it was a year full of surprises and unplanned happenings. February 4, 2020, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy named Arch Gabriel.

I was 19 that time and everything was new to me. Of course, as a first time mom, everything was overwhelming. I didn’t have a mom who could teach me things.

March 14,2020, there was news that there has been a virus called Corona Virus and needed to lock everything down for a week. Students and some are very happy because of course, no classes and work. But, there were lots of COVID cases and the lockdown needed to be extended. Everyone was curious, and kind of worried because people were not able to work and didn’t have money to support their everyday needs.

(ctto)

Meanwhile, I was recovering from giving birth and still getting used to being a mom and having a baby who is completely dependent on me. I was not able to go out for quite a while already and started to get very irritated with everything. Small things affected my mood big time and I cannot control how I react over things. Waking up every 2 hours to feed and change Arki’s diaper was getting exhausting for me. Washing the clothes, cleaning the house, and feeling imprisoned inside our house started to take away my happiness. I didn’t understand why I was acting that way when my one true dream since elementary came true, to become a mom. It was a long term dream of mine since I never had a mom growing up, I wanted to make my child feel and experience everything that I didn’t.

The news started to make me scared and anxious about everything. I was cleaning the house twice a day, washing my hands every hour and was very scared to go out. Mostly, I was scared that I was going to lose everyone due to the COVID outbreak. My father and I were always open about things. He was there when I could not control my tears and started crying non-stop. I did not sleep for three straight days because I was so scared that someone was going to die. I called Papa while crying, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even speak and figured out the main reason why I was acting that way. Papa was very worried and kept on asking me what was happening until that same day, my OB Gynecology doctor told me that I might be experiencing Postpartum Depression. According to her, moms, especially the first time ones, mostly experience Postpartum Depression and it highly affects the mood of mothers.

I guess, having to spend a month inside our house without seeing anyone other than my baby made me feel like I was alone all throughout my journey of being a mom. Since that day, my Papa has become my comfort. Every time I feel like crying without any reason, I’ll just call him and he makes me feel comfortable and calm every time.

Fast forward to December of 2020, I was starting to get used to the routine of being a mom and having to stay inside the house due to COVID. Until, my aunt or godmother got sick unexpectedly and needed to be confined at Westlake Hospital. She had an infection with her blood and after a week, she died. She was my Papa’s first cousin and one of my favorite people. She was one of my second mothers and her death made me feel very sad. I was crying for a week and starting to ask God why it happened. I was questioning Him why my godmother, Ninang JJ, died. The thought of death scares me until today. It was 2 days after Christmas when she died, t’was the saddest holiday that I ever experienced. My Papa comforted me the whole time and explained to me that death doesn’t mean she left me, she will always be there looking over me. Until holidays passed, everything was starting to go back to normal, although we were still sad about the sudden passing of my godmother, we are now able to spend a day without crying.

My son, Archy, started learning new things, and babbling words like Mommy and Daddy. The experience of being a mother still excites me until now. His little achievements make me feel very proud. Yet, I still feel like there was a void inside me, my achiever self. I miss the achiever, studious, and active Nicole. I asked my Papa if I could go back to school. My father asked me to get my records and enrolled me again. I was very happy and thanked everyone, especially him.

It was a hot afternoon, the same day, when my stepmom called me and asked me to go to our house because apparently my father was having a high blood attack and didn’t want to go to hospital. She also asked me to buy medicine and I immediately left our house and went to the nearest pharmacy. It was the longest tricycle ride that I ever experienced. I felt like the time was so slow and it took a while for me to reach our house though it was just 5 minutes away. When I reached our house, I saw my father laying on the bed and he said “Oh, bakit ka nandito?” I said “Ayaw mo raw kasi magpadala sa hospital, halika na, hindi ka naman i-confine doon, para lang hindi na tayo kinakabahan.” He said okay and when he got up, he couldn't stand at all and I was very shocked. He was also mumbling the words when he spoke so I already knew that it was Stroke. I drove the car and we brought papa to the nearest hospital which is Evangelista Hospital. When we got there, everything was so fast. He got his CT scan and the doctors found out that there was bleeding on one part of his brain that is connected to his vital organs. He needed to be confined in the ICU, but since it was COVID the ICU was full during that time. The nurse set up an ICU at the emergency room. We were calling hospitals, hoping there would be a vacancy at their ICU, but there was none. We accepted the fact that he will be staying at the emergency room.

That night, April 28,2022, the doctor said he needed to be intubated because his oxygen is dropping already and I was the only one allowed to make decisions since I am already at the legal age and my mom was not there. I am an only child and came from a broken family, grew up with my Papa and we endured everything together. I asked the doctor if it was the only option and he said yes, so I signed the waiver and they intubated Papa. He was awake when he got intubated and I could hear him in pain during the procedure. I was praying and asking the Lord to comfort him. After that, I went to him and said “Papa, sorry ha? ‘Yan nalang daw kasi ang only option kaya ako nag yes. Laban tayo, Papa ha?” He couldn't react with his face but his foot was swaying back and forth and I knew that he was listening. My stepmom and I continuously assured him that we are there with him. I needed to go home because I needed to feed and prepare Archy for tomorrow since I knew that I would not be able to take care of him since Papa is in the hospital. I told Papa that I’ll be back. When I got back, the doctor was there checking on him. He was having a fever and about to have a heart attack when the doctor told me that he is now brain dead or comatose. He had no reactions and his body was withdrawing the medications that were given to him. The doctor’s exact words were “Sa sobrang critical po ni daddy, baka hindi na siya umabot mamayang hapon.” That exact moment I couldn’t feel anything at all. The doctor asked me if they will revive Papa if ever his heartbeat goes flat and I said no. Papa always wanted to have a peaceful death and no electricity at all. I immediately called our family and asked them to go there because of Papa’s condition. I went to Papa and whispered in his ears, “ Papa, hindi na po kita pinarevive ha? Alam ko nakikinig ka ngayon at alam ko na alam mo na mahal na mahal kita. Ikaw na po ang bahala, huwag mo ako alalalahanin kasi pinalaki mo ako na matapang, kaya ko ‘to.” A tear fell down on his left eye and I knew that he was still there, listening. I knew my Papa was listening to me that time, he was still with us. I couldn’t cry that time. All I could think about was I needed to be strong because Papa needs me. My aunts and uncles came and they bid their goodbyes to Papa one by one. When his last sibling bid her goodbye, his heartbeat went 5, 10, 15, but never flat. My other aunt said, “Kuya, okay na. Pahinga ka na, sino ba inaalala mo? Si Nicole, kami na ang bahala sa kaniya, hindi namin siya papabayaan.” After my aunt spoke the last word, his heartbeat went flat. I froze, it seemed like everything stopped. That exact moment, the only thing that was running in my mind was I am now alone.

I lost Papa, he left. He died. I hugged him until the St. Peter's staff came to get his body. I still can’t believe that he died. I couldn’t feel anything during that time. Honestly, I was in denial and when I saw him inside the coffin for the first time, I still cannot feel anything. I needed to sign papers for the funeral and such, I have a lot on my plate since I was the only one allowed to. People came and I was surprised to see that he had a lot of friends and people who loved him so dearly. Papa was the kindest person I knew but also the most introverted person. I did not expect that he would have a lot of friends. Everyone was saddened by his passing. I couldn't sleep that night, it felt so unreal. The second day of his burial, I kept on looking at him, making myself believe that it’s really him inside the coffin. Second night was the last night and that was the time that I cried. I cried very much because thinking that it would be the last night that I would get to spend with the person who became my anchor for 19 years, my person, my best friend, the person who never got tired of me, the only person who kept encouraging me and believing in me, My Papa. I cried non- stop and I kept calling him, asking him to wake up. The next day, everyone was very busy preparing for the funeral and I was there still crying. When we were at the cemetery and about to say our last goodbyes to Papa, I was really crying and shouting. It felt like my heart was going to explode because of what I was feeling. I lost my person, he is now gone and I cannot see him forever. That thought killed me, and it will always leave an empty space inside my heart.

 After that happened, everything never went back to normal. I still cry about him until today, remembering him and how he loved me so much still makes me miss him very much. I was so mad at my mom that time because she never came, even a glimpse, she did not say sorry to Papa for everything that she did. She was not there for me. I was all alone with Archy, my son. I kept asking God, “why me?” Why do I have to endure all this pain? What did I do wrong for Him to do all of these to me? I was so mad and felt like everyone was going to leave me. I pushed everyone away. It was still pandemic, so I used that time to isolate myself from everyone. I promised myself not to put myself back to that situation again wherein someone will leave me and I’ll feel broken and lost. As a result, I isolated myself.

Not until my 20th Birthday, May 16, 2021, my family greeted me and asked me if I would like to celebrate my birthday with Papa at the cemetery since it’s been almost a month since he died. I said yes, and started asking for help. I told them that I was not feeling well like I used to before. I told them about my thoughts, and my aunt who is in Canada asked me if I want to get checked by a Psychiatrist. At first, it was hard for me to say yes since I was in denial and I told myself that I am okay and I can do everything on my own. But then, my aunt said, “Hindi naman dahil nagpa-check ka ay baliw ka. You are okay and what you’re feeling is valid. You just need help to overcome those feelings kasi para sa anak mo rin at sarili mo. Archy needs you.” That was my wake up call, my son needs me. He needs a mom and I remembered my forgotten promise to never abandon my son and make him feel alone like what my mom did to me. All my life, I continuously lose the people that I love and because of that, I always felt like every time there is someone who genuinely loves and cares for me, they’ll also leave one day. I always felt like something bad was going to happen and that made me feel very anxious about my environment. The doctor prescribed me a sleeping pill which will help me sleep every time I can't. She also referred me to a counselor and the counselor asked me to write everything that I feel including my thoughts down to a notebook, and I did. I wrote everything from the anger that I am feeling for my mom, that I get scared that someone I love will leave again, that I felt alone since Papa died, that I still blame and doubt myself because of the decisions that I made when he was still in the hospital, that I question God why He is doing these things to me. I wrote everything down then I burned it.

After that, I realized like I never had to endure all the pain alone, I have people who continuously believe in me aside from Papa, I have Archy who needs and looks up to me. Then, I realized that everything has its purpose. Papa always wanted me to go back to school and after he settled my school fees, he died. Maybe, that was his last mission here on Earth. Second, I got pregnant early maybe because God knew that I needed someone whom I can hold on to and that will keep me going because Papa will die earlier than expected, and that’s my son, Archy. Everything that is happening around us has their own purposes and we should never question the Lord. I excelled at my subjects and joined competitions that I enjoy while also working at night and being a mom 24/7. The COVID virus is still in the Philippines together with its new variants, yet, the cases are slowly getting controlled and slowly getting back to normal. We are now allowed to go to malls, buy groceries without the need of a quarantine pass, but still need to be cautious with our actions since there is still a virus everywhere. I still miss Papa, but the thought of him being with Jesus without the feeling of any worry, pain, etc. makes me happy. I am indeed proud that he raised a strong, independent, and brave woman.

Looking back, maybe the reason why I needed to go through all the pain is for me to learn, discover, be stronger, and strengthen my faith with the Lord. I never knew that I could move on from all of the pain that I endured. However, thinking about what happened during the 2 years lockdown, everything was so fast. While the state of our country is going back to its normal routine before pandemic, the lessons that the COVID virus taught me are unforgettable. I really enjoy being a mom of a 2 years old beautiful baby boy, Archy. I am having fun being the Vice President Internal of a wonderful organization. I love working for my company. Lastly, I am enjoying the journey of being me. Life may not be perfect, yet it has a lot of lessons to learn. I may not have everything that I want, but I have all that I need. I may not get the highest grades in class, but there are lots of things that I am grateful for. I may not be the perfect mother, but my son is growing beautifully.

The pandemic may have left us with emptiness, broken hearts, painful memories, but it also left us with realizations and lessons that other situations can not. While things are slowly getting better, I will never forget how this pandemic changed my life. The pain is still here, especially the pain of losing Papa, but I know that slowly, everything will get better.

This is Nicole Aubrey Canarias. A mom, daughter, grandchild, niece, employee, student, and fighter. I survived throughout and I know that I always will. I will end this essay with a quote that I read in a book. It says, “I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.” Every challenge is an opportunity to learn and grow. Life is full of storms; it is your response to each storm that determines where you eventually end up. Keep on fighting, love. Life goes on and there are lots of things to be grateful for. 

[arcanestage]

WHEN IT GETS COLD

characters: yuno / nozel / yami / fuegoleon / william / julius x f!reader

a/n: heres a little holiday treat hehe sending love and virtual warm hugs to those dealing with seasonal depression and/or those generally struggling over the holidays. its that time of the year again *sigh*

warnings: none

yuno — lends you his jacket

it always amused him how cold you easily get - shivering even at a temperature everyone would consider as comfortably cool. even more amusing is how you always forget to bring a coat, a habit you never really got rid of.

yuno loves you more than he likes to admit and it’s pretty evident by the way he looks out for you. he always took note of how you would subtly rub your palms together, blow on them a few times, then slip them under your thighs. you would do so absentmindedly while managing to hold a pleasant conversation with him.

“you’re cold, aren’t you?” his tone half worried, half annoyed.

“y-yeah…” you blushed. “i’m fine though,”

tsk

“didn’t i tell you to bring a jacket? you know how cold intolerant you are y/n,” he tutted and nagged while taking off his coat. he rounded the table and draped it over your shoulder. “better?”

“mm-hm… sorry for being such a scatterbrain,” you smiled sheepishly, tugging the coat tighter around you.

he rested his hands on your shoulder for a bit then kissed the top your head.

“your forgetfulness will be the death of you someday,” he chuckled. “but i’m here to make sure that never happens. i’ll give you all my sweaters if i have to,”

nozel — gets you a dozen wool mittens

the winter season had always been your favorite. you were drawn to the festivity it brings: colorful lights everywhere, upbeat music playing at each street, genuine smiles from everyone you meet. nozel however, dreaded it. he loved seeing you happy this time of the year, yes. but you could never stop complaining about how chilly and biting the weather was which irritated him to no end.

he noticed how you complained about your hands feeling the coldest. true enough they were always cool to the touch. he loved holding your hand but its coldness was just too unbearable for him. and so he decided to prepare a little present for you.

you were surprised to see thick sweaters with matching mittens of different colors and patterns laid out on your bed.

“so you can enjoy the holidays without having to complain about the cold,” nozel sauntered towards you, picked up a pair of wool mittens, and slipped them on your freezing hands. they fit you perfectly. “and when i tell you to dress warmly, that includes your hands y/n.”

“you did this… for me?” you looked at him, your doe eyes holding all the love you had for him.

“i’m getting quite sick of hearing you complain,” his lips flickered into a small smile. “although all that really matters is that i could now hold your hand for as long as i want to,”

yami — holds you close

as the air in clover kingdom grew colder, your insomnia worsened along with it. even in complete exhaustion, you struggled getting proper sleep. yami was persistent in finding the perfect remedy for your insomnia, dedicating a full day just to try out every tip and trick he managed to gather. you weren’t hopeful but still, you played along.

as expected, nothing worked, pushing everyone in the squad to give up and retire to their bedrooms.

you laid beside your man who had always been a heavy sleeper. you stared at the ceiling wide awake, feeling the bitterly cold air cut through your skin. how could anyone sleep through this?

yami stirred in his sleep. he rolled over to his side facing you, his arm landing on your stomach. with one eye half opened, he hooked his hand on the curve of your belly, silently asking for you to wiggle closer to him.

“your ki is off…” he mumbled.

“must be the weather,” you managed to croak out through the extreme dryness of your throat.

“c’mere, i’ll keep you nice and toasty.”

you were enveloped in his strong arms and for the first time since the frost and the sleepless nights began, you felt at ease. you felt warm and safe.

your eyelids felt heavy and so you let them fall, let the slumber finally come to you.

perhaps you’d make it through the winter after all.

fuegoleon — sit by the fireplace with you

ever since the snow started to fall, you’ve been spending most of your days indoors. not even fuegoleon’s feeble attempt at doing puppy dog eyes could convince you to step outside. your boyfriend respected your wishes, making it a point to come by your little cozy home to spend time with you.

he arrived that day a little later than usual. in his hand was a large bottle of cabernet, an apology present he said. you giggled, impressed at how quick he was in making amends.

“it’s alright. you’re here now and that’s what matters,” you said as you strode towards the couch by the fireplace.

fuegoleon settled beside you, 2 glasses of wine in his hands. both of you sipped your drinks in comfortable silence, watching the fire dance and flicker in its place.

“do you remember what i said the other day?” he blurted out.

“you tell me a lot of things, fue.” you laughed. “which one?”

“that i’m always at peace whenever i’m with you,” he blushed.

you felt a little flustered, unsure of why he was bringing that up out of the blue. you avoided his eyes and stared at the empty glass resting between your hands. “i do remember. what about it?”

he shifted awkwardly in his seat, feeling the heat rapidly creep up to his cheeks.

“nothing i just… i want to do this with you for the rest of my life,” he whispered, barely audible.

a shy smile made its way to your lips. you gazed up at him, the fire illuminating his beautiful features like a spotlight, like he’s the only thing that matters in this room and to you.

“i’d like that,” you said.

fuegoleon reached for your hand and locked it in his. you both stayed like that for the rest of the evening: fingers intertwined and dreaming of the future you want together.

william — brews a cup of warm tea

so begins the winter season, also known as the season where you suddenly become sickly. you’ve been having the good ole common colds for a couple of days. it wasn’t bothersome at first, but since you refused to rest, your symptoms worsened rendering you weak and immobile.

you felt terrible. it was william who kept reminding you to rest but you never listened. when he saw your condition worse than ever, he only sighed.

as you were resting up, you heard someone knock on your door. the person slipped inside holding a small tray. it was william. he had been checking up on you before and after work hours without fail.

“i heard you’ve been feeling colder than usual so i made you a cup of warm tea,” he placed the tray on the bedside table then sat by the edge of the bed.

you smiled weakly then carefully sat up, taking the dainty cup from his hand. you took a small sip, savoring the warmth and the flavors bursting in your mouth. you were truly grateful for william’s existence.

“what would i do without you, will?” 

“i could ask the same to you,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair. “you take good care of me too, you know.”

“we’re good at looking after each other huh?” you beamed at him.

his lips tugged up into a smile, like an epiphany had come to him. “i’m quite unsure of how soulmates work but i think that’s what we are.”

julius — keeps a blanket to share with you

visiting julius had always been tricky. for starters, marx was always there to keep an eye on him, making sure his duties were being fulfilled. even with julius’ supposedly strict schedule, you still manage to sneak into his office once in a while.

snow had just begun blanketing the whole kingdom. slowly but surely, the winter season settled in. you watched the windows in your quiet home frost and become blurry, the cold making you long for julius’ company even more.

you paid him a visit that night, letting yourself in through the window. julius was ecstatic to see you but at the same time worried because you look like you were about to faint.

“it’s extremely cold out, how did you manage to survive that?” he said, encasing your freezing hands in his warm ones.

“barely did,” your voice trembled. “but i wanted to see you.”

julius sighed. he sat you on his couch then quickly shuffled toward the cabinet to grab a large blanket. he sat beside you and draped the blanket over the both of you. underneath, he wrapped his arm around your waist for additional warmth.

“thank you,” you whispered. he smiled then kissed your forehead.

“i wish we could stay like this forever,” he mumbled. “you and me dozing on our own couch underneath one giant blanket -- happy, contented, with nothing to worry about.”

you looked up at him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “we’ll get there eventually. but for now, these little, fleeting moments we share are enough for me.”

[icantthinkofanythingcool3]

Hii I saw ur post about short blurbs and was wondering if you could do 5 or 13 🤍🤍

Well this did not end up being short 🤦‍♀️ but here ya go! Hope you enjoy!💜

It had been 2 years since y/n had moved away from Beacon Hills and half of her friends. Kira and y/n had ended up at the same college and in the same dorm. Lydia and Stiles both ended up about a half hour from them in different directions. The group was still close, but things were definitely different for all of them. Kira and Scott had grown apart and Scott and Malia had grown closer. Lydia and y/n had grown closer than before, they were always going back and forth on the weekends visiting with each other. Although y/n and Stiles were really close before, things had simmered down right before they left for school two years ago.

All their friends had sworn that the two were going to be together, even with college coming up. They were going to school close enough where they could totally still pursue a relationship. Somewhere though, Stiles and y/n had ‘grown apart’. At least that’s what their friends thought. In reality, neither of them really knew what had happened. It was like one moment they were falling for each other and the next it was just gone. Y/n and Stiles had both tried on different occasions to talk to each other, but something always got in the way.

Y/n walked into her apartment, that Kira was decorating...for Valentine's Day. “UGHHHHHH. Kira I thought we decided not to make a big deal out of this stupid holiday.”

“No...you decided that. Just because you’re still stuck on Stiles, doesn’t mean everyone else can’t be happy about love.” Kira announced.

“That’s not-no you’re. Ugh, whatever.” y/n replied, not having a come back, because what she had said was true.

y/n was still really hung up on Stiles, she was still so confused about what had happened to them back in Beacon Hills. There had been plenty of times since then that Lydia, Kira, y/n and Stiles had gotten together to hang out, even times when Scott and the others had come down to visit. However, their interactions were always strange and confusing. She hadn’t been able to date anyone else, and was honestly just making herself super unhappy.

“Before you make yourself too depressed, this was slipped under the door for you today.” Kira handed her a note, folded up with a huge heart on one side and y/n on the other.

“What...what is this?”

“I don’t know silly, clearly I haven’t opened it...since it’s for you…”

Y/n’s eyes rolled as the note was opened. It was typed and it read:

"When love is not madness it is not love." –Pedro Calderon de la Barca.

I have felt nothing but madness from the moment I laid eyes on you.

As she read it to Kira, she let out a screech, “y/n!!!!! Omg you totally have a secret admirer! This is so EXCITING!”

However y/n was doubtful, she left Kira to go to her room. Who on Earth could have sent this to her? Was it a joke? Was it real? The next day, nothing appeared under the door and it disappointed y/n, even though they would never admit that, especially to Kira!

The next day however, when y/n got home from work Kira was waiting impatiently by the door with a note in her hands. It looked exactly like the other one. She basically threw it in my face and stood over my shoulder as she repeated ‘open it, open it, open it’ in my ear.

This one read:

“Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the brain empties.” – Jules Renard. This, I can assure you, is true. I make dumb mistakes every time I’m around you.

“I literally have no idea who could be doing this. I don’t talk to anyone, no one even notices me around here!” y/n exclaimed, confused.

“Well, you must be wrong, because someone is DEFINITELY noticing you!!!!”

“No, this is just wrong. This has got to be a joke or something. I’m telling you. Throw away any other ones, I’m serious.” With that, y/n walked into her room and slammed the door, she was done with this.

The next day was normal, but y/n wasn’t hopeful that she wouldn’t get another letter, and the next day, the 5th of February, Kira was waiting again with another note.

“You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought.” – Conan Doyle. You are the only thing I can think about lately, you’re in my every thought.

y/n didn’t know what to think anymore. Was this person a freaking psycho stalker? How did they know where I lived? We’re they stalking me?

“Kira, I know that you’re sitting here thinking this is some romantic love story...but what if this is some crazy stalker that now knows where we live? Like what if they break in and kill us in the middle of the night?”

“y/n I think you’re being a little dramatic. I feel like this is someone that has to know you in some way. This is some intense shit.”

“We’re gonna die...watch.” y/n finished, over the anxiety this was causing her.

Two days later, y/n didn’t have class. She was going back and forth from the front door, to her room. She was stuck between being excited and worried. Half of her believed that this was some kind of cruel joke, the other half thought maybe someone actually did like her. By 4 o’clock, she thought maybe that it was over, but as she made her way out of there room, there was a note by the door.

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back." - Plato. This one may be corny, but it’s true, I feel this with you.

This definitely sounded like someone that knew her. But how could she be so oblivious? How could there be someone this into her and she had no idea. That’s why she still believed that this could be a joke. Like clockwork, two days later she got another note.

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” – Dr. Seuss. I swear since I started these notes, I haven’t been able to sleep at all. I know this is probably starting to creep you out, I promise that you know me and I know you. I’m not a random person.

“I’m sure that this is supposed to make me feel better Kira, but I feel worse. How do I not know this person likes me, if they like me this much?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking from the beginning of this, do you think it could be Stiles?”

“WHAT?” y/n asked incredulously, “Come on, there’s no way. First of all, that would mean he would have to drive a half hour here and back every other day to slip these under the door? There’s no way, that would be crazy.”

“I mean, you guys definitely had something and then suddenly you guys just stopped. You’re still awkward around each other, maybe this is the only way he can get you back?”

“No. Seriously. Stop that’s, that’s. No, that's crazy.” But later that night, what Kira said had gotten the best of y/n. She did something she hadn’t done in a while, she called Stiles.

As soon as he answered, y/n regretted it, “y/n? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I’m not even sure why I called…...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for calling, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry- shit I mean okay. I-I gotta go talk to you later.” And she hung up, she felt so stupid why would she call him? Kira and these damn notes have gotten her head all twisted up. She should know better than to think Stiles could have done this, she was getting her hopes up just thinking about it.

Two days later, y/n could hardly think at work. Her mind was all in a swirl and she kept making mistakes and dropping shit, by the end of her shift she was exhausted. As she had expected, when she got home, Kira was sitting on the couch, holding a new note.

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.” – Rumi. I haven’t known you forever, but when I met you it was like I had known you my whole life.

“There’s only three days left until Valentine's Day. What’s going to happen? Is this all leading up to something? Or are the notes just going to stop?”

“I guess that’s the fun part!” But when y/n looked at her pointedly she continued, “I know this is freaking you out and giving you anxiety, but this could be a good thing. Whoever it is, really cares about you. And I’m not getting creepy vibes from any of this, if someone was going to break in and kill us, I think they already would have.”

y/n knew that Kira was right, she shouldn’t be so freaked out about this. It didn’t seem like a creepy kind of thing, the notes were sweet and heartfelt, and they definitely, probably would have already been killed. So all y/n could do was wait.

As y/n made her way through the day before Valentine’s hazily, she could barely focus. She kept texting Kira, asking if she had found anything yet. Seeing as she was still in class, she had not. Y/n wanted nothing more than to leave her classes and go to the apartment, but she knew if the note wasn’t there yet, she would get even more impatient. So when Kira finally texted her that she got home and there was a note, y/n excused herself from her class and rushed home. Kira was waiting, almost as impatiently as y/n, with the note in her hand!

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” – Lao Tzu. Meet me at Hilton tomorrow, 7PM, there’ll be a note left at the front desk.

“What? Kira, am I really supposed to just go to this random hotel and meet this random person?”

“I mean they said you know them, so they’re not that random!”

“I know a lot of people! It could be the cute barista that gets my coffee everyday! I technically know him, but would I go into a random hotel room with him? NO.”

“Okay, then I drive you there, and you keep me on the phone. If anything funky happens I’ll run up and save your ass. I think you should go. I see the look in your eyes when you read the notes, you’re excited. I haven’t seen you genuinely excited in a long time.”

Kira had saved my life multiple times, I trusted her, and it was a good plan. I was excited, she was right, I was stupid for thinking that I would get it past her. And I wasn’t exactly defenseless, I had learned to fight through many years of fighting off the supernatural. I decided it couldn't hurt, if anything it would end up a good story to tell one day.

The next day was torture waiting for 7pm. Especially since y/n had no class and only finding an outfit to distract her. y/n called Lydia in the morning, while Lydia had been pissed that she’d only just heard about this, she insisted on y/n video chatting her to pick an outfit. Together, they had decided on a blush pink dress, with a small flower design. There was a belt that tied right under the chest, that accentuated the top of y/n’s body and flowed down nicely to a little above the knee. They picked out black kitten heels, which according to Lydia, y/n should have already had. It was 4:30 when she got home, already ready to start her makeup to keep her distracted. Kira helped her do her hair nicely and put on minimal makeup, to highlight her best features. By 6, y/n was ready to get in the car, but the drive was only 15 minutes. Kira tried to distract her with finding things to fix, like an out of place hair, or too much highlight. At 6:30, she couldn’t distract her anymore and they got in the car. She drove slowly, constantly trying to hit red lights. Although, y/n had noticed, she pretended not, too.

Freaking out at 6:50, y/n got out of the car by the entrance. Looking at Kira who gave her a thumbs up, y/n walked in and to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I was told there was a note going to be left for me here?”

“Ahh, you must be y/n, yes?” The desk attendant said to me, smiling brightly.

“Yes, that is me!” I said, nervously.

“Here is the note, don’t be so nervous. I think you’ll like what is waiting for you!”

She looked at the note that looked the same as all the other ones. The note said:

Go to hotel room #33.

y/n double checked that Kira was still on the phone and went up the elevator to the correct floor. She walked up to the door, but was hesitant to knock. It took her a full minute and many deep breaths to finally knock. When the door opened, she gasped at what she saw.

“Stiles?” She asked incredulously.

“Hi, y/n. I was nervous you weren’t going to come.”

y/n looked down at her phone to see that Kira had already hung up, “I-I, the notes were you the whole time?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to do it. I was freaking out about the whole thing. I know things got messed up before and honestly, I don’t even know why. I didn’t want to mess up again, and I just thought this was the best way to get you to see that I was sorry.”

Y/n took a minute to look around the room. There were two queen beds, both covered in rose petals. There was a small, pink and red bag on one of them. There were actually rose petals everywhere. There were small candles lit all over the room, lights turned down. There was a bottle of champagne on ice and room service on a trolley that contained y/f/flowers in a beautiful vase. It was beautiful honestly, and clearly took a lot of thought.

“y/n?” Stiles started, as she had not said anything after his confession.

“I’m sorry, it’s- I mean this is beautiful. It’s amazing honestly. I can’t believe you did all of this.”

“I’ve loved you for a long time y/n. And I don’t know how exactly we got all fucked up, but I was nervous and scared about what would come to us when school started. I’ve wanted to tell you everyday since that whatever was going on was stupid and that we should be together, but I never could get it out and I’m sorry.” Stiles was nervous, not sure y/n felt the same.

“I don’t know what happened either, if I’m being honest..I felt the same. Scared and nervous. I’ve literally made myself miserable everyday, knowing that I should have done something about what happened. I love you. I’m sorry too, that I didn’t do anything to fix whatever happened. I knew from the moment I met you, that we were meant to be more than just friends.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back after he heard y/n’s confession, his feelings had been overwhelming for so long. He walked closer to her, placed his hand on her face gently, and placed his lips on hers. At first, it was sweet and slow, but y/n moved her hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer. When they both ran out of breath, they pulled away smiling at each other.

“Can I ask you a question?” y/n spoke first.

“Of course, anything.” Stiles answered.

“Why are there two beds?” y/n wiggled her eyebrows.

Stiles face turned red and his hand went to rub his chin, “I well, I mean I didn’t want to-uh...I didn’t want to assume anything, I just, I didn’t want to mess anything else.”

“Well I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” y/n said and pulled Stiles back to her, placing her lips on his again.

[wizkiddx]

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

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

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months.  Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size  of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.” 

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

///////////////////////////

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you  to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you  yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically,  and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

[butcherknives]

The Holidays with the Sparda Men

Prompt kinda got away from me and became more of a pre-game than an actual holiday moment, but hopefully it’s fun and enjoyable all the same.

Ft. GN! Reader from the Devil May Cry series

> SFW

At first you believe that holidays aren’t exactly his “thing.” That it’s painted by a religion that isn't his, and it’s too bathed in traditionalism where Dante is anything but, between his attitude, his appearance, and his lifestyle. You think this, yet as the holidays grow closer, you notice that his mood seems to weaken and crumble. He isn’t irritable or sour. No, that isn’t it at all. You know Dante and his facades; this you recognize as depression.

You live within your perplexity only for a short time before you decide to ask. Side by side on the worn leather couch, your knee pressed against his as he reclines in a languid arch, you pose your observation with as much tact as you can muster. “You seem down.”

Without turning his head, his eyes slide toward you. He sweeps over your expression and you can feel the way he’s analyzing – likely approximating what you’ve gleaned. With quiet huff though his nose, he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Well, damn. And here I thought I was the embodiment of ole Saint Nick.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

The silence that stretches is full of rumination. Dante is weighing his options, isn’t he? Considering if it’s worth telling you the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest as he measures you, weighs you, and finds you...

“I always feel kinda eh around the holidays.”

...worthy.

You wait with hopeful patience, quelling your thoughts and over-eager questions because there’s a physical shift, one there beneath the immediate surface, that tells you he has more to say. You rest your hand on his thigh and tip forward, attempting to remain a source of comfort.

He cracks one eye open to peek at you. The look you offer makes him sigh, sit up, and shake his head on a roll of his shoulders. “I guess it reminds me of my family. You know, sad little boy stuff.”

Oh.

What had the holidays been like before tragedy? And what had they been like prior to your arrival? You simmer on this for perhaps too long because Dante is visibly retreating into himself with that sideways, self-deprecating smile that warns you precisely where he’s about to bury his emotions. You rise to your feet. “Your family!”

He tips his head, lips flattening into pulled confusion-mirth-weariness that makes you switch your hips on a sheepish laugh.

“Yeah,” you continue. “What about your family?” The light has yet to click on. You continue with swelling emotion. “Vergil and Nero? And Lady, and Trish...” You bounce on the balls of your feet. “We could invite them over and do something fun. Like... Like a party.”

There’s slow realization dawning like the sunrise across Dante’s face and it’s equal in beauty. The sparkle in his eyes; the smile curling at his lips as he drops his forearms into his lap and leans forward until he’s grinning with silent, crinkled laughter. “A party, huh?”

“A holiday office party,” you say with an eager nod.

This does make him laugh. “You might just be onto something.”

“So, what do you think?” You watch as he rises to stand in front of you, his hand combing through his hair. “I think we could pull it off together. It could be a lot of fun.”

“Alright,” he says with an exaggerated shrug. “What the hell?” As lackadaisical a response it is, you can see his happiness. “You wanna decorate? I’ll send out the invitations.”

You agree with a grin, tipping forward to kiss his scruffy cheek, and as you saunter off toward the desk to gather a piece of scrap paper and a pen to start your planning, you feel much lighter than you had before.

“Hey,” he says and you spin to look. “Think we could get Morrison to dress as Santa?”

You laugh.

Vergil doesn’t seem to care that the holidays are around the corner, nor does he indicate any desire to celebrate. You’ve been mulling over how to breach the subject, not from fear but rather uncertain of what judgement he may pass. Surely, if you find any importance in the season, Vergil will indulge you to the best of his ability; you know this and yet you find yourself wondering if he’s fully against them in their entirety. He’s shown open disinterest in religion – Fortuna, you deduce, left a bad taste – but you think, perhaps, he might be open to a bit of spirit. At the very least, you’d love the excuse to have him spend time with the rest of his family.

Your answer comes in the form of a red wax-sealed envelope delivered to your home. Perplexed, you study the writing on the worn paper and see there is no return address listed. Curiosity guides your hands to the seal yet you stop yourself, deciding to share this moment with Vergil.

You find him in the study with several opened books across his desk, exactly as he had left them the night before. The door is open yet you knock to announce your presence. He doesn’t look up as he waves you in.

“I’ve yet to decipher these texts,” he says as you plop into the armchair across from where he stands. “I’m afraid the language may be too far removed from more recent demon tongue.”

“It’s fascinating how even demon language evolves.” He raises his gaze and you smile, lifting the envelope for him to see. “By the way, this came in the mail today. It’s got a wax seal. Think it might be important?”

Vergil’s attention flits to the envelope, then back to you. “Ominous.”

“Mm,” you agree. “Could be some wild invitation to battle to the death. Shall I open it?”

He nods, gesturing with a hand to carry on. You find anticipation builds as you peel back the seal and remove the folded letter within. The handwriting is scrawled, the penmanship overly decorated, but the words are thick, black and bold, as if written with an inkwell.

“Might need some more books to decipher this text, too,” you say with a snort, flashing the paper at Vergil who rolls his eyes in amusement. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.” You clear your throat with theatrics and shake the letter out, settling into your chair. “Dearest brother,” you start before you laugh. “Oh, spoiler alert.”

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dante...”

“Ever the showman,” you answer. “Okay, here we go.”

Dearest brother, I hope this letter finds you in good health and with haste, as time is not on our side. With the change of the season, I find myself longing to indulge in what has been described to me only as “holiday spirit.” It is for this reason that I cordially invite you and your love to my humble home for drink, company, and merriment. Sincerely, Dante

There’s a silence that follows during which Vergil rises to his full height. He closes his eyes while he folds his arms across his chest. You’re biting back your delight. “He sure knows how to make an entrance,” you say.

Vergil shakes his head before he holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you give him the letter. He scans the paper with pursed lips and brows drawn, then exhales a long-suffering sigh. “My brother has a propensity for theatrics.”

“And you don’t?”

He turns to you and for a moment, he seems scandalized. He flattens his expression. “It seems as though you already have an opinion.”

“The correct opinion.” There’s a playful thread between your banter and you can’t help but smile. “But so...” You tip your head and pull an accent that isn’t yours, “What say you?”

Vergil stares. For a moment, you think he’s going to admonish you, and yet his smile simmers with a telltale gleam. Your heart soars.

“Shall we respond in kind?”

You’ve decorated your shared space with lights and a tree, filled the living room with cheerful music, and hung stockings above the heater where you’ve joked that it’s the closest to a fireplace you have. You do this, and never once has Nero complained. He’s even assisted with stringing the lights around the top of the wall, further than you can stretch. Despite not being quite as enthusiastic about the holiday, you appreciate his acceptance of yours.

Beneath the glow of the flickering multi-colored lights, you’re placing a new ornament on the tree when Nero enters the front door. Clutched in his hand is an open envelope, familiar prickled irritation in the line of his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” Your brows knot in surprise. “What’s that?”

“Something stupid,” Nero answers. “It’s from Dante.”

You grin as you rise to your feet, clamoring over to the entrance while he’s distracted with shutting the door. He gets out a quick, “Hey!” before you snatch the envelope from his grip, spinning out of immediate reach.

“Oh, a seal? Fancy,” you’re saying as you slide the letter from its confines. Nero is following behind you, but each half-hearted swipe has you dodging. It’s a joyous dance that makes you giggle and you know that Nero isn’t truly angry; it’s for show when he throws his hands up and lets out a long groan, collapsing in a chair in front of the television like a cut marionette. “Did you read it yet?”

He sighs, jiggling his knee. “Got as far as the first line.”

You grin. “Then let’s read it together, hm?” Moving to stand behind him, you drape your arms around his shoulders and orient the letter in front of you both, resting your chin on the top of his head. “Oh, his handwriting is...”

“Fucking awful?” Nero supplies.

“Ornate,” you agree with a laugh. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.”

Dearest nephew, I bid you and yours good tidings! I am writing to cordially invite you and your loved one to join me at my abode for a holiday celebration this solstice. Fret not, for I will provide accommodations during your stay in the city of Red Grave. Sincerely, Dante

“What –”

“A party!” You unravel yourself from Nero’s warmth to sidle around him, beaming. “We’re definitely going.”

Nero stares at you and you stare back. There’s silence while his expression works into exhaustion. Nero breaks it with a click of his tongue. “Why’d he have to invite us to a party like an old vampire?”

“Why not?”

He snorts. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Just never would’a taken Dante for a family holiday kinda guy.”

You tilt your head with a patient stare, considering. “Well, Dante hasn’t really had a family until recently.” Nero quirks a brow. “I mean, you only got real confirmation a few months ago and Vergil –”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, waving his hand. Right, you think. Still a sore spot. “So you think Dante’ll invite him?”

You nod your understanding, slow and careful. “I think that’s likely.”

Nero’s lips mesh together as he nods, eyes falling to the floor, faraway in thought.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say.

It takes Nero a moment to regain focus, but when he does, he’s looking at you with heavy deliberation. He’s reaching for your hands, drawing you into orbit until you’re standing between his knees. His thumbs rub small circles into your skin and you bask in his warmth. “You wanna go, right?”

“Could be fun,” you answer.

His chest fills on a deep inhale before he’s accepting his fate with surprising ease. “Okay, then can ya do me a favor and grab me the phone? I’ll let ‘im know.”

You grin. “You got it.”

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

whumptober day 10: crying

slightly more straightforward h/c this time!

summary: set after the ric grayson/joker war arc in nightwing. 

dick’s been missing for two months. jason finds him first, but it’s just the first step in finding how very, very lost dick really is.

warnings: SPOILERS for the aforementioned nightwing arcs. plentiful cursing. moderately graphic descriptions of injuries.

crying

The last time Jason received a family-wide SOS to help them rescue Dick, the guy was a twice-brainwashed mess whose brain was being pulled in opposite directions by the Court of Owls and the fucking Joker, and that was after said brain had been shattered by a fucking sniper’s bullet. (And a period of being left to fend for himself with a broken brain in between, but Jason doesn’t really like to think about that.) This time, he doesn’t know quite what to expect. He can’t imagine things have gotten even worse than the last go-around, but then again, Jason knows from personal experience that there’s no end to the list of ‘things that are worse than dying’.

Besides, the alert came from Babs. And, in quick succession, Tim, Bruce, Duke, and Cass. If nothing else, Jason is curious.

Dick disappeared from Bludhaven about two months ago. The reason the oh-so-precise Bats have the word ‘about’ in that statement is because nobody can really pinpoint the exact date it happened. Donna can recall dropping by his place ten weeks ago. Tim maybe exchanged a few emails or text messages a few weeks ago but didn’t really get alarmed about Dick not responding to his messages until the radio silence stretched for over a month. Bruce had his trackers on (that bastard) but Dick hates them and is known to destroy the ones he finds. And they can’t even really depend on reports of Nightwing sightings in the city because having his brain knocked around and pulled apart like taffy means Dick takes regular holidays from patrols if he’s not feeling particularly steady that day. (Look what being sensible and having a smidgeon of a sense of self-preservation got him.) And the CCTV in his apartment complex was shit, so. 

It’s almost like it was a planned thing, like he was kidnapped, but honestly it’s how things go and how they’ve gone for a very long time: they drift in their own worlds for long periods until an event brings them together, and then it’s back to being scattered across the country again (or sometimes the world, or sometimes the galaxy). Dick is more prone to this than most; he’s probably gone undercover more than any of them, and he’s lived the longest on his own as well. 

Even after the clusterfuck that was the last year and change, it’s nothing new. And if that isn’t the most fucking depressing thing that Jason’s had to think about today, it turns out that not only have the Family figured out where Dick is, but that Jason is the one that’s closest to his location. 

So here he is, shivering, on a particularly icy night on the Gotham docks, scoping out the warehouse where Dick’s supposed to be. It’s not very well-guarded, which either means there’s nothing in there and this is a massive waste of his time, or that it’s a trap and what’s waiting on the other side is a fucking bomb or something even worse. It’s not a great situation to be in either way, and Jason’s got half a mind to have Tim or even Bruce take over--but it’d take too long for them to get there and Jason’s never been fond of the idea of handing over to someone else anything that he could potentially do by himself.

Besides, like he said, he’s curious.

He crouches down at his vantage point overlooking the warehouse and presses the communicator in his ear. “Two guards in front but nothing else; the place is practically abandoned. Infrared picking up three people inside.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, bracing, ready to spring. “I’m about to go in.”

Tim grunts. “I’ll be there in fifteen, give or take a couple.”

“Twenty,” Bruce says. Then: “Hood, you--” An uncharacteristic pause, and Jason can feel the sudden, uneasy chill across the entire comm channel. Bruce clears his throat. “Be careful. Assess the situation first. Don’t engage alone unless it’s an emergency.”

There’s a thanks for stating the obvious on the tip of Jason’s tongue, but something about the gravity of the situation, the mildest quaver in Bruce’s voice (he’s been missing for two months, god, two months) has him say, instead: “Roger that.”

Jason makes quick work of the guards in the front, leaving them in unconscious heaps on the ground before he creeps in. They’d hardly put up a fight, which just makes Jason’s stomach twist in anxious knots. The anxiety is made worse by the complete lack of resistance when he’s actually inside: there are only two huge, cavernous rooms, and one of them has two of the three people that he’d detected. They scatter as soon as they see him and Jason considers chasing, but now his nerves are stretched so taut that he thinks he’s going to vomit if he doesn’t see Dick now--

The night-vision on Jason’s helmet catches a figure sitting, slumped, in the corner of the room. A chain connects a manacle around its ankle to the wall, and another between the same wall and… a collar around its neck. Jason’s blood is already boiling before he steps closer and recognises the figure as Dick. His hair is long and shabby, having grown past his chin, curtaining his face. He’s shirtless but wearing ripped, stained jeans. His hands are cuffed in front of him, the thin metal biting into his wrists enough to leave his hands puffy and slightly purple from the lack of effective circulation. He looks considerably thinner--Jason can just about count the ribs under his skin--and every visible part of his torso is painted in bruises in various stages of healing. And--

--and he’s breathing.

Well, thank fuck. That’s a start.

Jason crouches in front of Dick and presses his comm again. “Found N. Little worse for wear, but alive and safe.”

He ignores the immediate clamour of questions from the others to focus on trying to get Dick awake. He brushes Dick’s hair aside and gently lifts his chin to have a look at his eyes. 

Dick smiles at him. “Hey.”

Jason is beset by an onslaught of emotion that’s part relief, part incredulity and part anger, so much so that he thinks he’s going to fucking burst with the pressure of it. Of course that would be the first thing out of Dick’s mouth--hey--like he’s meeting Jason for cocktails after work instead of being rescued after two months of captivity and torture! Well he can take that hey and shove it right up his fucking--

“Is there anything else here we need to worry about,” Jason says, busying himself with picking the locks on Dick’s manacles so that he doesn’t snap and say something he’ll regret.

Dick shakes his head. He’s got a shaggy beard going and he stinks of sweat and urine and filth, but there’s a sense of… togetherness to him, like he’d always known that Jason was going to show up at this exact minute and that had always been part of his plan. “They scattered as soon as they got word that you guys were coming,” he says, voice thin and raspy. “I guess not enough of them were curious to stick around to find out why so many capes would be coming for me.”

Jason pops the manacles and collar loose and goes to work on the cuffs. “So you weren’t taken as Nightwing.”

Dick sighs, then winces as the motion pulls on the gigantic bruise around his neck. “I wasn’t taken as Dick Grayson, either.”

The cuffs come off with a click. Jason stares at him. “So… what, you were just some poor mug they picked up off the streets to… torture for shits and giggles?”

Dick is silent for a moment. His eyes flick to a point behind Jason and back again. “They knew me as Ric.”

It takes a moment for the name to click in Jason’s brain, but he finally remembers that it was what Dick called himself during his brain-injured year in Bludhaven. “Why would Ric have enemies?” he says, without thinking.

There’s that smile on Dick’s face again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ric did have a life, Jason. And friends. And… enemies.” He begins to move, bare feet shifting against the floor and shifting his weight onto his hands as if he’s trying to figure out a way to stand up, but barely manages an inch of elevation before he runs out of energy, breathing heavily. “Ric--I used to fight. Street fights. Involved a lot more money and people than I remembered, and… apparently a lot of people felt betrayed when I just up and left the city one day. I’ve been fighting matches here almost every day.” A sudden, sharp grin. “I haven’t lost yet.”

Jason--stops. Utterly freezes, hands midway to helping Dick sit upright, because there’s something terribly, terribly wrong here. “Why didn’t you ever try to escape? And how--I mean, in the first place--”

How did you even get caught?

To Jason’s horror, tears start rolling down Dick’s face. His expression doesn’t really change, so Jason’s not sure that Dick’s even aware that he’s crying, but right now Jason is already halfway to being mortified. “I was on my way back from the gym,” Dick says finally, “and I think I--I blacked out. It happens sometimes.” Dick gives a wet laugh. “Talk about bad timing.”

“And--and what, you blacked out for two months?”

At this Dick’s face crumples, and suddenly Jason gets it: this is a man pushed and pushed to the end of his rope and beyond, utterly exhausted, past the point of caring who knows about it or why. “I guess…” Dick swallows. “I didn’t really see the difference. Between--between here and out there.”

Jason wants to scream, shake his shoulders--a shameful part of him even wants to hit Dick--and tell him that of course it was different outside of this stupid, dank warehouse: he has friends and family and a lifetime of experience to support him while he flies free. It’s ridiculous to even compare the two, and Jason is ready to put these words down to the effects of too much pain and too little food.

Except--

(plucked you right out of one life and stuffed you into another, didn’t they? treated you like a puppet without a past and a future, didn’t they? didn’t let you entertain the idea of a different life even for a minute, did they? punished you for straying, reminded you there was just too much at stake, and that those stakes were always, always bigger than you or your health or your happiness or your future--)

“Dick, I--” Jason really doesn’t know what to say. Tim says, “ETA five” in his ear while Bruce says, “Right behind you, Robin” and Jason knows, just knows, that this isn’t how they would want to see Dick, and more importantly, this isn’t how Dick would want them to see him.

He gathers Dick in his arms and presses him to his chest. Dick freezes for a second, surprised, then melts into his embrace. His shoulders shake, hands coming up to weakly grasp at Jason’s jacket. The sobs reach a crescendo quickly, a pathetic keening muffled into Jason’s chest, before tapering away and Dick is still, just… breathing. 

Jason breathes with him.

That’s how Tim and Bruce find them a couple of minutes later. Dick peels away and somehow musters the energy to reassure them. Bruce helps him up and carries him to the car while Jason follows; just as Dick’s lowered into the backseat his hand shoots out, grasping Jason’s arm in a silent plea. 

Jason gets in with him. Neither he nor Bruce say anything through the whole drive at the tears that continue to pour down Dick’s face, but Jason doesn’t let go of his hand for the whole ride.

[lilliagradiewrites]

evermore (jj maybank)

Summary: Y/N is in a depressive state, but refuses to tell her boyfriend. After she walks out on a party, JJ realizes that something is off, and rushes to comfort her.

*based off of the song “evermore” from Taylor Swift’s new album!!

WC: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Mentions of depression/ symptoms of depression, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, mentions of suicide/ death. (The reader is at a very low point during this. Please proceed with caution of mentions of depression triggers you.)

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I have a new piece for you. This is a one- shot, and is on the shorter side. If you don’t know, Taylor Swift released a new album on the 11th. I have been so obsessed with it, and one of my favorites from the record is the title track “evermore.” I knew i had to write something based off of that song! This is inspired by that song, and I encourage you to listen to it while you read.

Much love to you all, and happy holidays! I hope you enjoy!!

LET’S DO IT!

~~~~~~

The night was cold as you walked quietly down the street, the old cardigan your best friend gave you wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You weren’t dressed for the mid-october weather, your shorts and tank tops providing little warmth on your shivering body. As much as you hated the cold, it felt good to feel something again.

November was approaching quickly, and as you walked down the street that cold october night, you realized that you hadn’t had a true spark of happiness since that July. Of course, there were moments of joy, but it was never consistent, and lasted a day at the most.

You couldn’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment where everything went wrong, no matter how many times you’d tried. Countless times, you’d retraced your footsteps to find the moment your despair began. Unfortunately, this only resulted in distant memories from better times becoming fresh in your mind, pushing you deeper into the dark hole you were trapped in.

For a while, no one noticed a difference. Your group of friends, whom you adored, didn’t bat an eye when you left a party early because you were ‘tired’ or ‘not in the mood’, despite the fact that you loved parties. It hurt a little that they didn’t see a problem, and that only made the problem worse.

The first person to notice was JJ, your loving boyfriend. The blonde boy was the light of your life, but as your own issues began to overtake you, you found yourself pushing him away unintentionally. He would send texts, asking you to come over and see him. He'd invite you to come out to dinner with the pogues at The Wreck. He’d beg for your permission to show up at your house because he missed you so damn much.

Time after time, you replied with perfectly crafted excuses that left him concerned, but with no questions. That’s all you needed to accomplish, really. If he didn’t ask any questions, then you’d be fine.

The routine was working out pretty well for you in the beginning. JJ and the rest of the group would accept your excuses and go along with what you told them, even if they found it slightly suspicious.

But, after a while, your constant absence finally hit them. It was concerning, especially when it came to someone like you. Your parents weren’t strict, so it wasn’t an obedience thing. You loved parties, and were quite social, so it wasn’t a social anxiety thing. They wondered at their hangouts what could be wrong, but none of them could come up with a viable explanation.

Texts from your friends were lighting up your phone at a constant rate, but you trained yourself to ignore them. Your mind had convinced you that all of them hated you, and were only messaging you as a joke, or because they felt bad.

Though your brain tried to tell itself that JJ didn’t love you either, you were fighting hard against that idea. Even the slightest notion of your boyfriend no longer being interested in you broke you down into tears, so you tried to allow the thought to cross your mind as little as possible.

He texted you every day, asking if you were okay and trying to make plans. He texted you good morning, and goodnight, as well as a few other times throughout the day. He was a wonderful boyfriend, and you appreciated him, but you didn’t have the energy to show him the attention he deserved. You texted back for a while, but eventually gave up, leaving him on read almost every single time.

For the last few weeks, JJ had been broken up with worry. He worried that you were mad at him, that you hated him. He worried that you were leaving him. So, he showed up at your house.

As soon as he walked in your room, he could tell that something was incredibly off. You were normally a somewhat neat person, but your room was in complete disarray. Clothes littered the floor, empty plates and half-eaten bags of chips tossed absentmindedly to various locations.

And you. You looked like you hadn’t changed or bathed in weeks. Your hair was messy, and your face looked as if you’d been crying for years.

When you saw his face, your mask slipped on without a second thought.

“JJ! Hi, babes!”

“Hi, angel.” He replied, concern evident in his voice as he spoke. “I haven’t really seen you in forever. Are you okay?”

You nodded immediately, concealing your true feelings. “I’m okay. I’ve been taking up extra shifts at work because I need money for college soon. I’m trying to save up early. I’ve been so busy and exhausted, I just haven’t had the time or energy to see anybody.”

Lie. You got fired from your job a month ago because you called out ‘sick’ too many times.

JJ was still suspicious, but went accepted your story just as he had many times before.

“Alright, babe. I just miss you a lot. Take a break soon. Are you working tonight?”

“No.” You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him again.

“Well, then, you’re coming to hang out.”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your hands away from his. “No thanks, JJ. I had a late shift last night and I’m exhausted. Plus, I have an early shift tomorrow morning, and I refuse to go in hungover.”

JJ took your hands back into his, meeting your eyes. “You don’t have to stay late, and you don’t have to drink. Just come for a little bit. Like, literally for an hour. We all just miss you so much.”

When he was looking into your eyes like that, you couldn’t help but say yes. Though you knew you’d come to regret it, the smile on his face after you agreed made it all seem worth it at the time.

“Yes! Okay, my love, I have to go deliver some stuff for Pope’s dad. The party starts at ten, so I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

You didn’t say anything, simply nodding to indicate that you’d heard him and understood what he said.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It was barely a whisper, but it seemed to be enough for JJ. He gave you one final wave before exiting your bedroom and closing the door in his wake.

When he had gone, your anxiety began to cover you. You had come to hate gatherings and parties, despite the fact that they used to be your main source of happiness and excitement. How were you going to make it through this party?

Sighing, you turned to your bedside table, moving around empty cups to peer at the time on your alarm clock. It was hard to read due to the tears in your eyes blurring your vision slightly. After a moment, you were able to decipher the numbers on the screen. 8:06 PM. You had approximately an hour and half to get ready before your boyfriend would be there to pick you up.

The first half hour, you decided, would be used for praying you were able to make it through this night.

---

About 70 minutes after your boyfriend’s visit, the clock on your bedside table read 9:12 PM. You sat at your vanity, brushing on small amounts of makeup. You didn’t want anything too crazy like you used to do; it just didn’t feel right anymore.

The same thing applied to your outfit. After almost an hour of trying things on, you went for something simple. A sage green tank top, your favorite blue jean shorts, and a basic oversized white cardigan kie had given you. The outfit was basic, but cute nonetheless. You completed the look with your pair of slip-on vans that were so beat up they could barely be classified as white anymore.

Your hair, which you normally would curl or style for parties, had been brushed through and left down. That was all you had the energy for. The party hadn’t even started yet, and you were already exhausted.

At least you had showered. It had been over a week since you last bathed, and this party gave you incentive to take care of yourself. That’s the only thing you were grateful for when it came to this party.

As you finished getting ready, you promised yourself that you would try your best to enjoy the night.

JJ had come to pick you up as he told you he would, at nine-thirty on the dot. He was always careful to be very punctual when it comes to you. He said you looked pretty when you got in his car, and the small compliment warmed your heart significantly.

The party was smaller than your normal ones. The pogues were all there, and they were all happy to finally see you again. You greeted them kindly and took your seat beside JJ, wanting to make the night go by as quickly as possible. You had hardly even arrived and you were already anxious.

As the night went by, your anxiety only got worse. You began to zone out, not paying attention to the conversation. You snapped back to reality when the whole group laughed at some joke someone told, and you just chuckled nervously along, hoping nobody noticed you weren’t being attentive.

A few hours went by, slowly but surely, and you decided that you had to be done for the night. You had been on the brink of a panic attack for the last hour, and it was getting harder to fight it off.

“Alright, guys, I’m tired. I’m probably gonna head home. I’ll see y’all later.” You announced, standing up from your seat. Immediately, JJ stood up with you, leaning into your ear.

“I’m too drunk to drive, babe. Do you think you can wait a little longer for me to sober up?”

You shook your head lightly, pushing him away. “No, it’s ok, babes. I’m just gonna walk. I don’t want to pull you away from the party anyways.”

A look of concern took over the blonde’s face. “I don’t like that. You can’t walk by yourself at night, it’s not safe.”

“I’ll be fine, J.” You assured him. “I live, like, a five minute walk away from here. We’re super close to my house. It’ll be okay.”

JJ continued to insist that you wait, but you insisted on leaving. You reassured him multiple times that you’d be alright, kissed him, grabbed your cardigan and left.

That’s how you ended up in your current position, sobbing into your cardigan sleeve as the night grew colder and colder. You were still walking along the road to your house.

You hadn’t realized how cold it was when you left. Maybe it’s because you;d been sitting up against JJ, his body heat mixing with yours to help keep the both of you warm. Now, you were all alone, with nothing but your thin cardigan to protect you from the chill of october night.

As you walked, and cried, you wondered what it would be like to just stop breathing.

Your thoughts were halted by the sound of footsteps pounding the pavement behind you. Immediately, you tensed up, suddenly scared. Who was running on the streets late at night, besides her? Who had a reason, other than kidnapping or killing someone?

You turned slowly around, and your body relaxed as you realized you recognized the person barreling towards you.

A familiar blonde boy was running in your direction, seemingly desperate to catch up with you. You stopped walking, giving him time to meet you.

“JJ?” You were talking as soon as he was close enough to hear. “What are you doing, babe? You’re supposed to be at the party.”

“I’m walking you home. I’ll go back once I know you’re safe.” He explained. He looked almost triumphant at the fact that he’d caught up with you, but his expression changed to one of concern after he got a good look at your face.

“Y/N… have you been crying?”

You shook your head, almost in instinct, but he saw right through you.

“Yes, you have. Baby, what’s wrong? Did one of us say something? What happened?”

As you looked in his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs as rocky and deep as the ocean, you felt your mask begin to slip.

“I’m not okay, J. I haven’t been for a long time.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and the tears came almost immediately after you’d finished.

JJ took you into his arms and held you close, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there on the side of the road.

JJ let you sob for a little while, just holding you and murmuring sweet words to you. Eventually, he pulled away and looked directly into your eyes.

“I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this, my love. I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but we’ll figure it out. Together. I promise. I love you so much, Y/N. So fucking much.”

He pulled you back into his chest, and in that moment, it dawned on you.

This wasn’t the end. This pain wouldn’t last for evermore. It would pass, and JJ would be there with you when it did.

So, for the first time in a while, you finally felt okay.

~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs are super helpful and super appreciated. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

Happy holidays! - Lillia

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Advent Ficlets 2021, Day 22

Friends and Family

John called Sherlock’s psychiatrist, who against all logical odds could see him immediately--John imagined The British Government himself likely had some hand in things like these; perhaps the doctor did nothing but sit at a desk waiting for a call from the Holmes family--while Sherlock showered and dressed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offered. Sherlock had not left the flat in weeks. The thought of sending him off into the world alone gave John a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Sherlock could go anywhere, without him--a bridge or a train track, an old familiar street corner or shooting gallery. It was not that he did not trust Sherlock; he absolutely did. But he did not trust Sherlock’s depression, with its casual disregard for Sherlock’s physical well-being, need for brainwork, desire to make a lovely holiday party for his precious few loved ones. If it would wreck all that, surely it could lure him into a harm from which there was no recovery. John shuddered.

“No need. I’ve texted Mycroft and he’s sending a car,” Sherlock replied, sounding sharper than he had in days, more like his usual self. The dark rings under his eyes, the broken capillaries all around them, belied it. He was wearing a disguise.

“Look, I know you’ve been here before and you know how it works,” John said, and stepped closer, needlessly smoothing the lapels of his jacket between fingertips and thumb. “Just. Hm. Be honest.”

“I know. I will.”

“It’s difficult, I know. Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?”

Sherlock embraced him, kissed his temple. There was a heavy knock at the front door. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Text me when you’re on your way.”

Sherlock looked as if he might say something smart in reply, but only smiled and gave a slight nod, then went for his coat, shrugged into it, and went.

As soon as he heard the door close, John went to a window on the Baker Street side, peered between the branches of one of the Christmas trees to watch Sherlock getting into a black town car, its rear door being held open for him by the driver. As soon as he settled into its deep leather seat, Sherlock looked up to where John watched, did not smile, but waved his hand. The driver shut the door and John scrubbed both hands over his face. He felt wired, exhausted, hungry. Heavy with worry and fatigued from caregiving. He went downstairs and knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door.

“Mrs H, I’m worried about Sherlock.”

“Come in, John. Sit down. I’ll make us a cup of tea?”

“Thanks.” John felt settled and warm, just sliding into one of Mrs Hudson’s kitchen chairs. Like his sharp edges were smoothing, the taut-pulled strings of him loosening, holding him together, no longer in danger of snapping.

“I worry about him, too, but look at all he’s been through and how he always comes out all right in the end--I swear he’s got more lives than a cat. What’s troubling you, dear?”

John let it spill out--concern, compassion, frustration, terror--and Mrs Hudson listened, now and then patting his hand.

“He’s not easy to love, I know,” she said at last, with a soft, knowing smile. “Its a good thing he’s so easy to love.”

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony Chapter 12

Trigger Warning: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), drinking (comes up late in the story) just a lot of trauma, angst, smut

Word Count: 2265

Notes: More smut! Enjoy! :)

Chapter 12 - Somewhere I Belong

I wanna heal, I wanna feel like I'm close to something real

I wanna find something I've wanted all along

Somewhere I belong

The holidays came and went, Rowan was back at University. His Solstice gift from Rowan was on his nightstand. It was a photo Elide had taken of them last September before leaving for Uni. They were hugging in the front yard, Lorcan's face buried in silver hair. He stared at it every night before he fell asleep.

After two weeks of having Rowan home and being more physical with each other, it had been a hard transition when he left again. He had grown accustomed to Rowan’s bed and Rowan’s arm draped over him every night after finding sweet release with each other. Lorcan had taken to using his hand and thinking of the man he loved. It was never as good, but at least it helped him sleep.

There were fewer nightmares too. Which meant he was less exhausted and he was starting to get restless.

After throwing on some sweats and a fleece lined hoodie, he went downstairs to ask Barb if there was something he could do. He couldn't find her. It was Saturday, baking day, so he was expecting her to be in the kitchen. Luckily for him, there were some fresh goodies made, he snatched a freshly made pastry from the counter, popped it in his mouth, then promptly grabbed two more. They were delectable.

He looked out the window over the kitchen sink at the backyard and saw a fresh coat of snow on the ground as well as a fresh set of footprints. Time to investigate. He slipped on his boots and followed the trail as he finished the pastries. It ended at what he thought was just a boring old tool shed, but he was only partially correct. It was old and had tools, but it wasn't boring or a shed. It was a shop.

As soon as he saw the tools lining the walls and the gorgeous work table in the center, he was in awe. His jaw slackened and his eyes darted everywhere. Looking around, he felt his fingers twitch like they needed to use the tools around him, like he belonged here.

Barb was sitting on a stool at the work table, crying. She looked up.

Lorcan gave her an apologetic look, he hadn't meant to intrude. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just.. I'll go." He started to turn when Barb stopped him.

"Don't go. I just come out here sometimes when I miss Ellys. This was his shop.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks. "He did woodworking in his spare time." She looked around fondly and ran her hand over the well loved work table. Lorcan didn’t really know anything about Rowan’s dad, he never talked about him. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been dead.

"I keep thinking I should sell it all, but I can't, so it just sits here and collects dust."

Unsure of what to say, Lorcan looked around at all of the hand tools around the shop again. He walked over to the wall and touched one of the tools.

"Those are wood planes." Lorcan turned to look at her with a question in his eye. "You are more than welcome to come out here and learn to use these tools. Gods know Rowan won't," she chuckled. The corner of his mouth turned up. They both knew Rowan didn't like to get his hands dirty.

He was definitely intrigued by this new discovery.

"I can tell you're interested. There are countless videos online to help you learn and there are a few books inside that could help as well."

"You wouldn't mind if I tried?" Curiosity was getting the better of him. "If I used your husband's tools?" He was surprised that she would let him touch such precious items.

"Oh, honey. I would love it if they were used again." She gave his shoulder a squeeze and went back into the house.

Lorcan slowly worked his way around the shop, looking at everything. There were so many different tools. Mostly hand tools, only a couple power tools. There was a half finished project on one of the benches. It looked like it was going to be a decorative box. He ran his hand over the wood, a layer of dust coming up on his hand. It still needed sanding, but it looked like all the parts had been cut and ready to be assembled. Mr. Whitethorn just never got the chance to finish it.

Looking at the direction of the house where Barb now was, he had an idea. He would finish that box for her after he deemed himself good enough. She deserved to have this piece of her husband and she did so much for Lorcan, it seemed like the least he could do.

It felt nice to have a goal. That evening after dinner, he pulled the woodworking books from the shelf and read, curled up on the couch next to Barb while she watched her shows and knitted.

++++

Rowan was sitting on the couch in the apartment with Aelin and Elide. They were sprawled all over each other, they hadn't really been able to catch up since classes started up again.

Elide brought up Lorcan. Rowan hadn't talked about him much. Not because he didn't want to, but everything they were and everything they did was new. To both of them. Rowan almost felt like he wanted to keep it all for himself. Sure Rowan had had a couple boyfriend's before that he never shut up about, but they never meant anything and it felt fine gossiping about their sloppy kissing or weird habits. But Lorcan was completely different, it felt like they were made for each other and he almost wanted it to just be a secret.

"So how's Lorcan doing? We didn't get to see him over Solstice break."

He chewed on his bottom lip, deciding how much he wanted to divulge. "He's doing a lot better. I really think therapy is helping him." Rowan leaned his head back on the cushions.

"Any progress in the touching department?" They knew he had issues with being physical because of his past, being abused does that to a person.

"Oooh, we need all the details!" Aelin chimed in. Even if she did have mixed feelings about Lorcan, she always wanted juicy details.

Rowan rolled his eyes and tried to hold his smile back, "Things are improving. Faster than I thought they would." Trying to be vague, assuming Lorcan would not appreciate this conversation. No, he definitely wouldn’t.

Both girls' eyebrows shot up. "Do tell."

Rowan fiddled with the edge of the blanket as he spoke, "We've made out now. A lot." He really didn't want to get into more with them, those details were precious to him. He thought back to how it felt having Lorcan under him, the sexy as fuck look of ecstacy on his face every time he came.

"That's not all, is there?" Aelin wriggled her eyebrows. His thoughts snapping back to the conversation at hand.

"No, but I don't feel like telling you." He untangled himself from the girls and sat on the edge of the couch.

"Oh, come on! Please!" Aelin fell off the couch just to get on her knees in front of him to beg.

"We won't tell or make fun of him, you know that,” Elide reminded him.

Rowan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Giving in he sighed, "Fine, but be nice." He leveled a glare at them. Not entirely sure he should be telling them.

"Of course."

"We had.. fun." they both squealed. "It was basically just a lot of dry humping. Really fun dry humping," he quietly said matter-of-factly, trying not to make a big thing out of it, even though it was definitely a big thing.

"You say that like this isn't a big deal. I think this is great! The fact that Lorcan has come so far and that he feels comfortable enough with you to feel so vulnerable is wonderful." Elide had turned to face Rowan and was trying not to cry. She had always had this odd connection with his boyfriend, even though they didn’t really talk, that he would probably never understand.

Rowan put his hands over his face, he shouldn't say this, but he couldn't help himself now that he had started divulging his new found sex life. His voice was muffled, "He almost passed out the first time."

Aelin yowled and collapsed on the floor, giggling. "Oh my gods, if he were anyone else, I would pick on him so hard!" Rowan glared at her. A short pause after she picked apart his words, "First time!? It happened more than once!?" Both girls squealed.

"Don't even-"

"I won't! Don't think so little of me!"

Ding

Rowan pulled out his phone. "Speaking of Lorcan."

They girls oohed.

Lor: I miss you.

He smiled at his phone as he replied.

Rowan: I miss you, too, love.

Rowan set his phone down.

Aelin and Elide had started talking about Lysandra and Manon. They could never be silent.

Ding

Lor: I wish you were here in bed with me. Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine.

Rowan: That sounds so much better than listening to Aelin and Elide gossip. Also, I love that you're in my bed. I wish I were there.

Lor: I wish you were on top of me.

Rowan: Oh, love. I would love to make you writhe under me. But maybe you could touch yourself and think of me?

Lor: I am.

Oh, Gods. Lorcan was touching himself in Rowan’s bed. He sucked in a breath, eyes wide as he read and reread the last couple of texts. The girls looked at him, eyebrows raised. Suddenly his loose pajama pants weren’t feeling so loose anymore.

"What?" Aelin asked with a cocky grin.

"I, uh, I-" Rowan got up and stumbled past the couch.

"Have fun with the sexting!" Aelin hollered.

Rowan closed his door and laid on his bed.

Rowan: You are? Gods I wish I could watch.

A minute passed. Shit. Was that too forward?

The typing bubble appeared.

Lor: Over spring break, I want you to touch me.

Rowan: Oh fuck babe. I would love to. I'm getting hard just thinking of it.

Lor: Touch yourself with me.

Rowan groaned as he slid hand into his sweats and gripped his already hardening, velvety cock and pulled hard. Gods, he was so turned on right now. His lover was in his bed at home, touching himself. Fuck, why did he have to be four hours away?

Rowan: Your wish is my command, my love.

Lor: I love you. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.

Rowan: Me either. Fuck, I want you.

Rowan had never sexted before and he would be damned if it wasn’t sexy as fuck, even if typing was a bit more difficult with one hand. He hoped Lorcan was butt ass naked in his sheets. The buzz of his phone pulled him from his thoughts.

Lor: I'm close, love. I can't stop thinking about you riding my leg.

Fuck.

Rowan: That's all I want to do right now. I want to press my hard cock against you. Feel you against my leg. I want to hear you say my name.

His phone buzzed and Lorcan's photo popped up on the screen. He answered. Was this really happening? Damn, he was fucking turned on.

"Rowan." Lorcan's voice was breathy.

Rowan cursed. "Oh gods, Lor. I want to touch you so bad." Lorcan moaned. "I want to hear you come, baby." He had learned over Solstice that pet names really seemed to do it for his boyfriend.

"Rowan." He groaned. Oh how he loved how his name rolled off his lover's tongue.

"Come for me, sweetheart."

He heard Lorcan's breathing catch and whimpers leave his lips. "Ro."

"You're so sexy, love." He added a slight twist to his ministrations. "Oh, fuck."

"Your turn. I want to hear you." Lorcan was breathing hard.

Fucking gods above.

"Lor, fuck." Rowan started stroking himself harder and faster. He moaned.

"Come for me, Rowan. Come for me."

Rowan grunted and groaned, "Lorcan, oh fuck. I'm coming, Lor and it's all for you." He milked his release as he moaned.

His breath caught as he heard Lorcan say, "I love you."

After catching his breath, he returned the sentiment, "I love you, Lorcan. More than anything."

A soft hum sounded in his ear, followed by a comfortable silence.

Then, he heard over the phone, "You're so sexy."

Rowan chuckled, "You're the one who called so I could hear you orgasm."

Lorcan laughed. Rowan's heart ached to hear more of that sound. "Gods, I love you, Lor."

"I love you, too." Rowan could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm gonna go to sleep now."

"I'll join you. Sleep well, my love."

"You too."

"Goodnight."

"Night. I love you."

"I love you." That was always the last thing they said. They never said bye. His phone lit up when the call ended. He stared at the picture on his lock screen until he fell asleep which didn't take long.

The picture was of Lorcan sleeping, curled up in his arms. He snuck the photo one morning during Solstice break and immediately made it his lock screen.

____

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire @tanvee1231

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

The Stroke of Midnight (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Book/Pairing(s): Open Heart/ Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Abigail “Abby” Chacko)

Word Count: 2175

Summary: How would they get their New Year’s kiss if there are obstacles in their way?

Category: Angst with a happy ending

Warning(s): hospitalization (car accident, coma, fainting, depression, anxiety) kissing (ofc, it’s New Year’s Eve-)

______________________________________________________________

December 29th, 2020 (9:52 P.M.)

Abby loathed it. 

She loathed wearing those damn masks that made her suffocate. She loathed wearing at least three pieces of clothing, which got her all sweaty and sticky. Best of all, she loathed COVID-19. 

Damn every single human that doesn’t know how to social distance.

She got it. She knew how it felt to not spend time with her dear friends. She knew how it felt to not go to gorgeous beaches and get her tans. 

But this whole pandemic would be over if everyone followed the damn rules. People are acting as if they are seeing their families for the first time. Airplanes flying across the sky with every seat filled. Beaches filled with women in bikinis and men in shorts. Parties filled with people and alcohol. 

Abby is wholeheartedly done.

She recollected how Seb and Amma when they couldn’t come to Boston for the Christmas and New Year’s celebrations because of the fast-spreading virus. Even if she missed her family, she video-called them with Ethan, laughing and sharing joy with one another.

The moment of tranquility at that time inhabited her memories as more patients filled the ER, the moans and groans of pain settling in the overcrowded room. With a sigh, she got back to work, tending to them who may possibly have COVID. 

After placing one patient in the ventilator after she had trouble breathing, the junior resident went to the diagnostics room to take a break. It was depressing to call their families and tell them the heartbreaking words that their loved ones might not make it. And for a bonus point, during the holidays.

And it’s already depressing enough that Ethan hadn’t called her yet. He was supposed to here now; his shift was going to start in 5 minutes. Habitually, he got here early, either to finish paperwork or to start his rounds. The fact that he is not here know made her stomach feel wary.

She jolted at the beeping of her pager, signalling her to the ER room. I wasn’t even gone for five minutes.

Reluctantly, she went back down to the ER. She could see figures not far, and a bloodied man. Automatically, her thoughts went to calling his family about this accident. She hated heeding the cries coming out of their mouths, wishing she could do anything, anything, in her power to to save their loved one. But she prompted herself that she tried her full hardest.

Thrusting those thoughts aside, she rushed down to the patient. Suddenly, a pair of hands ceased her from taking another step forward. Naveen.

“Abby, don’t go down there,” Naveen said, worriedly. Huh?

Abby was confused and impatient. “What are you talking about? I’m a doctor. I can help him!”

Naveen replied in a hushed, soothing kind of tone. “There are other doctors there. They’ll tend to-”

Just then a paramedic came, someone the Chacko doesn’t know. “Patient is Ethan Ramsey, age-”

The world stopped. People annulled their motions. At least, that’s what she concluded. Her pulse, however, grew rapid. Her eyes widened. In horrible fear? In terrible anguish? In emotional pain? She doesn’t even know. 

“...Naveen? Please don’t tell me it’s who I think it is.”

“...I’m so sorry, Abigail. His car was hit by a truck and it rolled over a few times. He will be okay, I promise-”

But she’s not so certain. She wanted to slap herself. To cut herself, for ever thinking that. But even she took a look at Ethan. He’s covered in blood. She couldn’t even recognize him. 

“No...”

Then, she said it louder.

 NO! NO! ETHAN! ETHAAAN! Let me go. LET ME GO! NAVEEN, LET ME GO!!” Abby struggled, trying to release herself from Naveen’s grip. He was maintaining a vice-like grip on her, murmuring soothing words that he will be alright.

But she couldn’t make out anything. The world was spiraling, and so was she. 

“...Ethan...”

In one blink she fell onto the floor, her knees making an uncomfortable thud on the white tiles, and her vision went black.

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

December 30th, 2020 (10:06 A.M.)

The first thing she overheard was the beeping of a heart monitor. Next, she saw the IV going through her arm. She found out she was lying on an uncomfortable bed, sunlight streaming through the windows. Finally, she sees the Chief with an anxious face.

“Abigail! Ladoo, are you alright?” Naveen asked, concerned.

Only one word came out of her mouth. A name. “Ethan...”

She placed everything now. The bloodied body of Ethan Ramsey. Her true love. Unconscious. Unaware of any of her calls. She gasped out.

“Ethan! Naveen, where is Ethan? Where-”

Abby couldn’t breathe. She is suffocating. And she wasn’t even wearing one of those damn masks.

“Abby, deep breaths,” Naveen soothingly commanded.

She did as she was advised. Her breathing got normal, but her pulse didn’t.

“Naveen! Where is Ethan? Is he alright? Where-”

“Ladoo. Ethan is in the ICU, currently in a coma. He had a major surgery in his lung and chest. Thankfully, the surgeons stopped the blood loss. He had two broken ribs and a broken arm.”

Abby couldn’t get that first sentence out of her mind. “He’s... in a coma?”

The senior doctor sighed profoundly. “Yes, Abigail. We don’t know when he will wake up.”

We don’t know when he will wake up.

A tear spilled out of her eye, but she forced herself to swab it away. She will not break down. At least not now. Finally, she cared enough to question about herself.

“...What’s wrong with me?”

A sigh pulled out of Naveen’s mouth again. “You fainted after you had heard the news about Ethan. Your blood pressure increased. Fortunately, you’re fine now. I’ve informed Seb and Jazmin about this. They sensed you would be uncomfortable with talking about Ethan now, so they’ve decided to give you some space.”

She was appreciative. For having the best brother and mother. She treasured them. Too much. “I’ll shoot them a quick text message later. For now, I’m going to Ethan’s room. Where is he?”

“Abi-”

“Please. I want to see him.”

With a defeated sigh, Naveen and a nurse aided her onto a plastic wheelchair, much to her annoyance. She could walk fine, she’s not paralyzed or anything.

Abby was wheeled down the familiar hospital hall as nurses and doctors kept sparing pitiful glances. She didn’t need pity. She needed Ethan.

She walked into the room, preparing herself for what she was going to see. She wasn’t prepared at all.

Ethan was wearing a hospital gown and looked exhausted. His eyes were closed and he looked calm. Peaceful. Tranquility.

Some of her friends were already there. Bryce, Sienna, Jackie, Elijah, Rafael. They knew Abby would want to see her love. Some of them whispered comforting words. Others patted her on the shoulder. They all left her, and soon, she was alone with her fiance.

She started. “Hi, Ethan. It’s me, Rookie.”

She looked at the calendar. December 30. 

“Two more days till this horrible year is over. Life always throws us curveballs, don’t they?”

Silence.

She sighed. “Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Couples are supposed to kiss each other at the stroke of midnight. I need to feel your lips on mine at midnight. Please.”

The tears she tried to hold fell out like a dam breaking. She broke out in sobs.

“Please, Ethan. I... I can’t live without you in this damn world. If you die, I die, Ethan. I die. Please. I wanna feel you lips on mine at midnight. We planned so much for the future. Please. We’re engaged. We’ll be married next year. We’re hoping to build a family. With Jenner, as our third wheel. Please wake up, wake up, wake up. I love you too damn much.”

She whispered the last sentence. She tangled his hand in hers and held them tight. He may be in a coma now, but she’ll sing a song for him now. 

The sun comes up It's a new day dawning It's time to sing your song again

She takes a deep breath to keep her voice from cracking. Whatever may pass And whatever lies before me Let me be singing When the evening comes

Bless The Lord, O my soul O my soul Worship his holy name Sing like never before O my soul I'll worship your holy name

She sighed. He didn’t move, but something told her that he will move soon. 

“Rest now, my love. I’ll be waiting for that kiss when you wake up.”

He didn’t wake up that day.

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

December 31st, 2020 (11:40 P.M.)

Abby was with him yesterday and planned to stay in his room the whole night, until Naveen discharged her and gently forced her into an on-call room. It’s amusing how he thinks the 22 years old would get any sleep. She wanted to be in Ethan’s comforting arms. Him stroking her musky brunette hair. Her wrapping her narrow arms around his waist. Sleeping under the brilliant moonlight. But now, the coma threatened to take away that lifelong dream.

It was 11:40 P.M. on New Year’s Eve, and Abby was still waiting for that midnight kiss. He promised he would kiss her at 12:00 A.M. He didn’t have any problems in doing that. If so, he would have told Abby. He didn’t have to go into a coma to hamper it. Abby would still love him.

Abby was looking at the wall, staring at it blankly as she clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping for it to jerk. And minutes later, it did.

The first jerk got her out of her train of thoughts. The second jerk made her look at his bruised face, hopeful for a holiday miracle. The third jerk made him slowly open his eyes, his familiar hand gently stroking her thumb as to figure out who is next to him. 

She gently fastened her eyes. Oh no, what if he loses his memory? It was a serious car accident after all. Stop it, Abby, Naveen didn’t mention a head injury. Oh no, what if he was lying? What if he was trying to make me feel better? What-

“Rookie...?” She looked back at her, only to observe Ethan staring intently at her, with a slight glimmer.

“Ethan...” She couldn’t hold back the tears this time. 

The ocean eyes lost glimmer and instead widened with evident alarm. “Abby, don’t cry. What happened?”

Abby released a tremulous breath, one that she barely knew she was holding. “A truck hit you car and it flipped a few times. You were in it. You had a major surgery in your lung and chest. The surgeons stopped your blood loss just in time. You have two broken ribs and a broken arm. And you were in a coma.”

If Ethan wasn’t alert before, then he definitely is after hearing her last statement. “I was in a coma? For how long?”

“Just for a day, luckily. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

She looked at her watch. 

“... 11:55 P.M.”

Ethan nodded his head slowly, before gently stroking her cheek to wipe away the salty droplets of water. “Rookie, don’t cry. I’m awake now, am I not?”

She broke. Again. 

“B-but, I th-thought you wouldn’t m-make it. I thought y-you would never w-wake up. I thought o-our future was de-destroyed. I thought I would ne-never see you bl-blue eyes again. I thought-”

She gave up saying the last sentence and the first sob came out. Ethan’s heart broke piece by piece before shattering. 

“Lie down with me.”

She was hesitant. “But w-what if I h-hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Ethan assured. “I want to hold you.”

Slowly, she got up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and gently lied down with him. Her hand came around his waist, mindful of his injuries. Ethan’s hand went to the daily job of stroking her hair down. 

“I’m right here. Our dream will never be shattered as long as we have each other’s hearts. Even if I did die-”

“Ethan, stop-”

“No, Abigail, let me say this. Even if I did die, our hearts would be mended together. If you died, I would never love someone else again. You would be mine always, no matter what happens. My heart would belong to you and only you.”

Joyful and comforting tears obscured her vision. “I love you, Ethan.”

“I love you, too, Rookie. To the squares of infinity.”

Just then, they both heard the countdown. 11:59 P.M.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked.

Six.

Five.

Abby smiled. “Hell yeah, I am.”

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And their lips met at the stroke of midnight, fulfilling his promise.

“Happy New Year, Abigail.” The former attending said, a beautiful grin adoring his face.

“Happy New Year, Ethan.” Abby returned with the same grin.

As sleep was overtaking both of them with colorful fireworks decorating the night sky, Abby managed to ponder on one more thought.

Good riddance, 2020.

notes: If you’ve made it this far, thank you!

notes 2: Happy New Year, and good riddance! Let’s all pray for a good year this time. I wrote this fic in one day, and I am pretty impressed of myself. But I thought I would give you one more fic as this year comes to a close. Forgive me if there were any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

tags: @missmiimiie @aylamwrites @starrystarrytrouble @udishaman @caseyvalentineramsey @queencarb @choicesstan1 @newcolonies @arcticrivers @angela8756 @takemyopenheart @rookie-ramsey @ohchoices​ @ohvamsey @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @drariellevalentine @maurine07 @lucy-268 @drakewalkerfantasy @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @gryffindordaughterofathena

@openheartfanfics

@choicesficwriterscreations

[whump-town]

Halloween

Right after 5x01 with Reid and Hotch both pulling away, Morgan and Emily take matters into their own hands. 

“I don’t want to.”

Morgan, who up until that point, had really, truly believed that the worst of his year was behind him closes his eyes with a tired sigh. As if the pig farm hadn’t felt suffocating on its own, now it’s tangled in his mind with Foyet. The pigs, Mason, that poor girl, and Hotch. Because that terrible night hadn’t ended for Hotch as it had for the rest of them. They slept while Hotch lay on his apartment floor, his own blood soaking into his clothes. The hospital hadn’t even washed the dried blood from his hair by the time the team arrived.

Emily had the next day. It had taken Derek and Emily both to do the seemingly mindless task. Hotch had been uncomfortable, dirty and the nurses had given them the leeway to tackle the task together. And they were both very aware of how annoyed he was to have to succumb to their help. Hotch can hardly raise his arms to his waist, he wasn’t going to be washing his one hair. And as the oldest of his own siblings and still leaning heavily into that protective mindset, Morgan would heavily prefer it to be him there. So, bracing Hotch’s side with his own body, Derek had held Hotch upright while Emily gently scrubbed his hair clean of his blood.

The scent thick and acidic but slowly replaced with a smell distinctly hospital-like. The water had browned, the suds too dirty to even help only about halfway through. Standing there, Hotch’s body growing heavier and shaking gently against Morgan’s ribs he could see every bone in his boss’s back. And, too soon, they had to call it quiets. The monitors were picking up, distraught with the pain Hotch had hidden so well. His heart missing beats as Morgan had eased his head back into the pillows.

Emily standing there, white as a ghost, with that bucket of water. Hotch was only half-aware of them and their intentions by then. Watching Morgan behind half-lidded eyes and lips pale and parted as he took a dry rag through his hair. Morgan’s mother had always told him that going out in the cold with wet hair would give you pneumonia and while he had never known anyone to get pneumonia like that he wasn’t going to take any chances. Even if they were in a temperature-controlled hospital room.

And through all of that, Hotch had made it. Slowly, through shrieking monitors and more than one scare, alive. A fucking miracle.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” It’s Halloween. For as long as Morgan has known Reid, it’s been his favorite holiday. Hell, everyone knows it’s his favorite holiday. Even Hotch gets a little festive in the name of bringing even the faintest smile to Reid’s face. The idea for today, a party to celebrate Halloween, had been done with Reid specifically in mind. Being cooped up in this apartment isn’t good for him.

Reid who hasn’t actually looked at Morgan since he came in, twirls the frayed ends of his blanket around his finger. “I don’t want to,” he repeats. It’s one thing to mop about in this apartment. Here, no one watches him struggle to move. No one looks too hard, too long at his ill-practiced steps. At the crutches tucked under his scrawny arms. Worse is that if he goes, he can’t take his crutches. He’ll have to the stupid wheelchair in his room. Whos open seat is a crookedly carved leather smile, taunting him.

Morgan shakes his head and keeps at his current project. For the past week (has it been a week? He isn’t certain) he’s done nothing but tidies up every space around him. Having attacked Hotch’s apartment-- tearing up that blood-stained carpet, patching the hole in the wall, fixing a leaky faucet in the guest room, and cleaning out his worryingly empty fridge-- he’s come to Reid’s. The thing is Reid is going to make this process a little harder. There are bits and pieces of Reid in every corner of his apartment. Not self-deprecatingly bare like Hotch’s. Here, he can’t disrupt the way books lie because they all have been sectioned and left where they are with purpose. There is a purpose to his chaos more meaningful than Hotch’s out of sight out of mind.

“Well, you have to go.”

Reid frowns, biting his lip to refrain from whining. Despite having done more by his current twenty-four-years of age than any of them, they still treat him like a child. And while any of them might be forgiven for a bit of childish refusal he won’t be. Well, in all fairness, he is prone to a bit more childish things than they are. Reid had to be forced to go to the doctor’s for a check-up after getting anthrax and all because he had thought they might ask to do blood tests. What had made him go, in the end? Morgan taking Reid himself. It was humiliating but when they draw blood Morgan had offered his hand and Reid had taken it.

Now, Morgan’s just asking for a favor. For Reid to suck it up, just this once. To have fun and be easy. “Hotch is only coming because he’s under the impression this is all for you.” And it is, all for Reid. None of them care about Halloween. Hotch least of all. But the two of them are going to go crazy cooped up on their own.

Of course, that’s only mostly true.

It’s entirely Morgan and Emily’s idea.

“Okay,” Reid sighs, scratching self-conscious at his scalp. “I just…” he shoves the blankets off his legs. “Just need a few minutes.” A shower. He needs a shower and, if he’s granted the time for it, a pity nap.

Morgan hums, head bent to his current task of cleaning Reid’s strangely large collection of mugs lining his counter. “As long as you need,” he mumbles.

Two years ago, if someone sat David Rossi down and told him that on a Saturday in October he’d be celebrating Halloween as a fully grown man... he wouldn’t believe them. Add in the fact that he would be doing this because it’s a twenty-something-year-old genius’s favorite holiday and he’s doing it to lighten the mood of his old prodigy… well, he’d consider himself senile.

He should have stayed retired.

As of the last month, he’s been thinking that a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the little ragtag team Aaron’s created in his absence but they're a little crazy and trouble magnets-- Emily and Reid attempt at a second Waco with Benjamin Cyrus, the bombing in New York, and George Foyet. All within the span of a year. He’s only heard about some of the other things they did before he came back.

These freaking kids are crazy.

“Will you just listen to me,” Dave is multi-tasking. Aside from picking out comfortable clothes for the evening he also has got to swindle Hotch into coming out to the party. “For once in your life, Aaron, just listen to me.” As dramatic as that may sound, it’s kind of fair. Even when they prodigy and mentor, Aaron had a flair for taking Dave’s instructions in one ear and out the other.

“Dave,” comes Aaron’s soft rebuttal. He’s exhausted. Much to his chagrin, three days rest has done nothing to mend the bone-tired ache in his body. Add the depression he can feel settling across his sternum and the way his ribs feel like they’re being pried open… He has no interest in watching his team get drunk at Dave’s house. Call him a buzzkill or a killjoy to heart’s content, that’s not going to change his mind.

Besides, the last thing he needs is to start himself into a bad habit of drinking every time he’s sad. Then what? He starts himself down a road of addiction. He comes to work drunk. Derek tries to say something. Dave is worried. He gets fired. He’s no better than his own father.

Rossi’s voice softens, any of the agitation previously in his voice is gone. “Aaron,” he calls through the speaker. “I’m not asking. Emily’s on her way right now to come to get you.” He sighs under his breath, just tired, not even mad. “You can make that hard for her,” Dave offers, knowing that’s what Hoch is going to be inclined to do. “I think we both know she deserves a break from that, though.”

Hotch feels the defeat pull his shoulders down. He’s been an asshole lately. Logically, he knows it’s a progression of all the emotions he’s feeling and burying. Emily doesn’t hate him for that but he knows she’s starting to feel overwhelmed by it. And given how successful his other attempts at pushing everyone else away has been, he might just owe her a little reprieve. To do this one thing without an entire battle.

“I’ll… I’ll be there.”

Dave smiles on the other side of the line, content with himself. “Thank you, Aaron. I will see you there, kiddo.”

It’s always the smartest people that fall for the simplest tricks.

Unlike Derek, Emily does feel bad about their plan. Logically, she’s very aware of how beneficial it’s going to be. If they don’t invite themselves over, Reid won’t ask anyone to come. Which means that he’s got to be getting his meals some other way. The thing is, if he were getting them delivered by a friend unknown to his team members, there should be something left over. Food in his fridge or trash in his garbage can. But there’s nothing.

Why does love have to be so difficult? How is it that some people understand it and others are stunningly unaware? Somehow wrapping their pretty little heads around this idea that they are undeserving or tricksters for having tricked someone into caring about them. If they didn’t love Reid would they feverishly watch over him? Did he really consider himself that sinister? That malicious? That he could trick profilers into loving him? Let it be clear, there is no trick. They are not so foolish and he not so unlovable.

“Derek, I think we might--”

Reid’s wobbly. He’s not yet mastered the crutches (at all). His practice comes only from the hospital and then his instructions had been brief before he was sent down the hall. A nurse just needing to see he could maneuver them and that they were at the right height. So, as bitter as he is to admit it, Derek’s lightly placed hand on the small of his back is very helpful.

Turning to see Emily, Reid lurches dangerous and Morgan moves quickly to stop him from falling. Just behind them, SUV pulled up onto Rossi’s lawn as close as she could pull it up, Emily is helping Hotch out of the car. Even from here, he can hear the lowered grumbling shared between the two. Despite being unable to see Hotch except for one brief moment, Reid’s glad to at least hear the other man. Him and Emily clipping rough comments back and forth. Bordering on rude but it’s between them and they’ve always let one another slide in these areas.

Vaguely he can piece together that they’re arguing about whether or not Morgan’s help is needed. “--wheelchair, that you made me leave-- I will take you back-- walker-- asshole!” Despite how angrily they nip back and forth, it’s all in what they don’t say. Hotch falls into Emily’s guiding step. Not even breaking from his own comment as her hand comes around his hips and effortlessly supports his weight as they take a step up. Neither taking the blow below the belt to note how Hotch’s words get cut off by a hardly contained whimper of pain or how choked his quick, distressed breathing becomes.

Morgan’s help is needed but Emily is too focused on keeping Hotch’s feet firmly planted on the ground and Hotch too worried about not busting his ass on the ice.

Reid jerks as Dave’s front door is thrown open. One hand on his hip, an apron over his chest, he shakes his head at the sight of the four of them. “I can hear you two arguing like children from in the house!” he shouts. He steps out onto the porch, tucking the towel in his hand into his pants. “Grown adults out here acting like children!” There is an unmistakable David Rossi laced fondness in his tone. That, despite his haste movements and dry frown, is taken as such because they know him. And he knows Hotch and Emily well enough to know this would happen.

“Get yourselves inside,” Rossi’s entire body changes when he sees Morgan and Reid. A simple passing hand down Morgan’s back for encouragement. “There’s root beer in the bottom drawer in the fridge, have Henry get you one!”

Reid smiles, suddenly excited for this afternoon. Root beer is… it’s the keystone of his childhood. There was not a matter he and his mother couldn’t handle with a little root beer. And while he doesn’t indulge himself often with that luxury (still some part of his brain fails to comprehend that he has the money to get it) Dave always has it. Hearing that Henry is here, implying Will and JJ too, he feels himself growing giddy. Pleased. He can’t wait to talk to them. For Will to hit his shoulder with his fist just a little too hard and to rustle his hair. JJ hovering and laughing. Henry. Smiling laughing.

Dave keeps going.

His frowning turning into a small while Hotch’s dark eyes find him, a glint of hope. “Our poor hero,” Dave greets in a half-jab at Hotch. He cups the younger man’s cheek, smiling at him. “I assume Emily has been her cruel and unusual self?” Once again, another jab. It’s a perfect balance. He neither takes Emily’s side (exhausted by Hotch’s antics) nor Hotch’s (exhausted by Emily’s antics).

They both scoff, at both implications.

“Hotch is being an asshole,” Emily grumbles, childishly sticking her tongue out at him. “Per his usual self.”

Hotch turns to Dave and returns, “to answer your question, yes she is.”

Wedged between Dave and Emily, Hotch makes it to the porch. Emily only hits him once. Once. He deserved it.

“Would you two behave?”

They get all of two steps in before JJ puts a stop to it. You see, no one ever listens to Dave. Not once has anyone ever listened to Hotch but JJ. No, to JJ, they always listen. And with a slow final few blows, Hotch and Emily stop bickering.

“Now,” JJ has flour on her chest. An honor which means Rossi has let her within his kitchen. “Go sit,” she points to the living room, stepping aside to let them through. “Behave yourselves or I’m not letting you eat until you hug and tell each other you love one another.” Her grandmother used to force that punishment on JJ and her sister as children. Cruel, she had thought then, but JJ has learned it to be very useful. As they pass, she hears them both grumble something about Hotch’s mostly liquid diet and how Emily doesn’t think that’s very fair. JJ throws her own towel at their heads. It’s well worth the shared smirk of mischief shared between Hotch and Emily.

Little deviants, she thinks with an eye roll. It’s Halloween so she lets it slide.

In the living room, Reid and Hotch are left while the others fight over one another in the kitchen. The clatter is heard through the whole house. Morgan making Garcia laugh, a barking sound that draws a smile from Reid. Joyous. Emily lightly teasing Rossi for what she teases is new greying in his hair. She asks if he’d like her to dye it for him the next time he gets his hair colored. Her triumphant laughter is just as freeing. 

“Hotch?”

Beaten by the effort it took to walk all the way to the living room, Hotch had mostly succumbed to his placement on in the lazyboy. A chair, in which, he had never sat once in all the years he’d visited Dave’s. But the recliner is large and he can easily lean to support his side. Keeping an arm wrapped around his aching side. Without opening his eyes, head tilted back he hums. “Yeah?”

Reid’s knee is carefully surrounded by pillows. Even if it’s jostled, it’s fully supported in every direction. He’d been sitting here, watching Hotch’s face steadily grow blank. Masking his pain. He’d wanted to know if Hotch too had been tricked into coming. But then, as Morgan, followed closely by Garcia and the others, step in and Reid finds he doesn’t actually need to know. Hotch came, didn’t he? Left the safety of his dark apartment in favor of their boisterous company. Of little Henry in his Spiderman costume and Garcia and her own elaborate Harry Potter costume. 

Derek hands Reid a plate, mostly finger foods a bit of pasta. His plate mirrors Henry’s. While the other’s all eat healthy amounts of pasta. Will sneaks him a napkin, which confuses him, until Will covers his hand over Reid’s and whispers “there are eight Oreos in this napkin”. Sweets, which JJ and Garcia had deprived him until he cleaned his plate. And when JJ caves, Reid’s stomach full of the carrots, crackers, and grapes his plate had primarily had (as well as those Oreos), and brings him a slice of pie and ice cream Will only shakes his head with a smirk.

Hotch manages a few spoonful's of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. 

“You could eat something else,” Dave ventures, scowling. But Hotch’s body is very displeased and what little solid food he’d managed to eat in the last few days was having a tendency to come right back up. Abdominal trauma, the doctor’s kept informing them, often caused this. They just needed to wait it out. 

“He’s got the palate of a toddler,” Emily mumbles but she means it fondly. She punctuates it by throwing a carrot at his head. He doesn’t have the dexterity to swat it out of the air so it hits his head and he just scowls at her. 

Reid sides with Hotch. “Chicken noodle soup is the best soup,” he offers in Hotch’s defense. Blushing when Hotch just looks sadly at him, as if broken by the idea that Reid is the only person left to defend him. 

“It is,” Garcia tries to add, helpfully. She smiles encouragingly to Hotch but once again he takes them siding with him poorly. If all the sympathy he can garner is from Reid and Garcia, he’s hopeless. He loves them dearly but they effortlessly take his side. “And you leave my boss man alone! If he wants to eat chicken noodle soup then you let him.”

Hotch hums to that, quirking an eyebrow at Garcia, and looking down at Emily. Of all the places for her to sit, she’d chosen the floor. With a whole floor to choose from, she still sat down right at his feet. Resting her back against his shins. Which he didn’t mind but he knew she’d done it just to annoy him. 

Henry grows tired of his adult company and with the sun falling, he knows what’s coming. Even at three, he’s aware of what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Go on,” Hotch encourages. He knows they’re only holding back for two reasons: Reid and him. But Henry shouldn’t suffer just because he managed to piss off the one Unsub brave enough to attack him and Reid unfortunate enough to get shot. “We won’t go anywhere. I’ll put on Doctor Who,” he bargains. “Reid won’t go anywhere.” But it’s not really Reid they’re worried about. “I’ll take a nap,” he offers. Which is what his body needs but he’s not so sure he’ll actually commit to that. 

“Don’t move.” Emily orders.

“I’ll make sure he stays put,” Reid says, with a nod. But given how stupid they both are, Emily loves the commitment but doesn’t take the offer too seriously. Hotch with a blanket tucked over his legs and Reid happily humming away to the Doctor Who theme song, they’re left to the silence of Dave’s house. The others out taking Henry around the block for some trick or treating. 

Hotch does take that nap and Reid contently gets sucked into Doctor Who. Content in ways they both thought were only possible locked away in their own misery.