#and i feel such a real genuine dread and exhaustion and fear. because i don’t WANT to work with ethan buy i have no CHOICE!!!!

[planet4546b]

citizen sleeper is like. really really really really good.

[frogtanii]

warm.

it’s too warm, was your first waking thought as you sluggishly waded through the mound of blankets that encompassed you to get a breath of fresh air (you assumed bokuto and kuroo were the culprits for your warm and fuzzy hellhole). your eyes first fell on the television playing the credits to the second or third pirates of the caribbean movie on mute, the remote haphazardly thrown somewhere to your left as though the person who did so left in a hurry.

speaking of people, there was no one left in the room as you slowly joined the land of the living. a part of you suspected everyone had gone to bed but atsumu or akaashi would’ve woken you up if that had been the case.

belatedly, you recognized voices coming from the front door and your still sleep-addled brain lit up. oh! you thought. food must be here! untangling yourself from the blankets proved to be an exhausting feat because by the time you were done, your body was covered in a sheen of sweat underneath oikawa’s sweats and sakusa’s hoodie.

ugh, gross.

you began to make your way towards the door, the blood rushing through your head preventing you from hearing the details of conversation but knowing atsumu, he was just haggling for a lower price even though you told him repeatedly, that isn’t how pizza places work tsum.

as you drew nearer to the commotion, you started to pick up on the heavy tension in the air, leaving you extremely uncomfortable. you had no idea what the cause of it was but you did know it was making most of the boys upset, who, by the way, hadn’t noticed you creeping around just yet.

a feminine voice rang out from outside the doorway and though you were still attempting to gain your hearing, the sound sent chills down your spine. it sounded saccharine, sweet, familiar, and oh so evil.

even with a head full of cotton, you figured now wouldn’t be the best time to reveal yourself, what with the clear discomfort permeating the atmosphere, but your big fat mouth apparently had other plans.

“‘tsum, just let the poor pizza lady go,” you muttered, the beginnings of a headache making itself known at the back of your skull. you were a little too caught up with the dwarf banging at your head with a sledgehammer to notice the shock that everyone in the room turned to look at you with.

a gentle hand grasped at your forearm, whispering something into your ear before attempting to pull you back to the living room, but that same familiar voice from the door kept you planted where you stood.

“oh, the princess finally makes herself known,” meiko sneered, her face finally coming into focus, striking you with pang of fear straight through your heart. “funny, i thought i left you speechless the last time we... ‘talked’.”

“ya shut yer fuckin mouth,” atsumu lunged at her but was stopped by sakusa’s arm around his waist, successfully holding him in place. meiko just giggled, taking a step into the house, her heels clicking as she glided across the hardwood floors.

in the back of your head, you noted that meiko looked unusually beautiful, her makeup flawlessly done and her outfit complementing it perfectly, almost reminiscent of how she used to be before... well, just “before”.

you watched the boys unconsciously angle themselves as a protective wall around you, the person holding your arm (who you now realized was koushi) pulling you in tighter until your back was resting against his chest.

a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little suffocated but the other, more self preserving, bit felt irrationally safe and protected around these boys. it was nice... or it would’ve been if meiko wasn’t taking herself on a tour around the house as though she hadn’t been living there for almost the past year.

“you all can tone down on the guard dog act. i’m not here to fight,” she said as she pretended to wipe dust off the island. “you’re not?” bokuto’s skeptical voice rose up from behind you, one of his hands finding yours underneath the massive sleeves of your (sakusa’s) hoodie.

meiko shook her head with an empty smile, her perfectly painted red lips stretching unnaturally wide. “no, of course not! i’ve just come here to collect.”

the boys collectively tensed around you, akaashi whispering for kenma to go find yachi and quickly. as he slipped away, you made eye contact with sakusa who gave you an imperceptible nod that you assumed meant one thing — keep her talking.

“collect what?” you asked, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted, but you hoped she didn’t notice. she cocked her head as her eyes snapped to you as if she’d forgotten you were there, but judging by her growing smirk, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“my boys of course!” meiko clapped gleefully, clicking her way over toward kuroo to run her hand over his bicep, laughing when he jolted away from her touch. “they’ve always been mine, you know that don’t you?”

it felt like a cold bucket of water had been dropped over your head. you felt frozen again, the same feeling of dread creeping up your spine as it did when meiko attacked you. in turn, you barely noticed kenma’s return who whispered something to sakusa — an action that didn’t go unnoticed by meiko.

“what’re my boys talking about? are you plotting against me?” she pouted, scooting closer to the pair. kenma visibly paled and moved to hide himself behind sakusa’s broad shoulders. “we aren’t doing anything, meiko.”

wrong answer.

“oh, we both know that isn’t the case kiyoomi. i’m not a fucking idiot.” meiko’s voice filled with venom before moving even closer still. you felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest, your hand gripping bokuto’s even tighter.

what if she brought some kind of weapon to the house? what if she hurt you? what if she hurt them?

before you could think, you were standing in front of the group, the boys calling out your name as meiko’s face lit up. “so the precious little princess wants to take a stand! let me have it then, huh? let me see what all the craze is about!”

despite the fear thudding in your chest, you stood tall, glaring at her with your head held high. “the boys are not yours, meiko,” you declared, her mouth instantly opening in protest but you refused to let her speak.

“they aren’t possessions or objects you can own and treat like shit. they are people, real living, breathing people and they aren’t mine either. they have full reign to do what they want, when they want, to make their own choices and decisions. and you know what? they didn’t choose you or me. they chose themselves and their happiness over any bullshit you or i could try and sell them. so please, for the love of god, get your shit together, put it in a box and take it to fucking therapy.”

by the end of your impromptu speech, your chest was heaving but you felt good. really good. adrenaline was rushing through your veins and you felt powerful. out the corner of your eye, you noticed osamu and daichi standing at the bottom of the stairs with something akin to awe on their faces.

yeah bitches. take it all in.

unfortunately, while you were basking in the feeling of badassery, you completely missed meiko’s eyes lighting up with pure, unadulterated,

rage.

you faintly heard someone call your name before you were taken to the ground by meiko leaping at you like an animal. the two of you scrambled about on the hardwood, her hands yanking at your clothes and leaving scratches on your skin but you were sure as hell giving her a run for her money.

you finally managed to get on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground but that wasn’t before you gained a hard elbow to the side and a bruise to your face. meiko thrashed and shook in your hold but you were not wavering, trying to keep her entirely still for...

well, for what exactly?

almost as though they were on cue, you heard the sound of police sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder as they drew closer to the house. underneath you, meiko’s eyes widened before she began fighting even harder than she’d done before, her erratic movements making it much more difficult to keep your hold on her.

luckily, you had extremely muscular men at your disposal, one of which (osamu — even though he was a dick, he was still incredibly muscular dick) held down meiko’s arms as the lapd stormed the building.

the police officers easily retracted meiko from your arms and cuffed her, taking her to the back of the cop car, despite her loud and insistent threats on you and everyone you love.

very disney villain-esque.

a kind looking officer helped you to your feet and walked you out to the porch where he began to ask you and the boys a few questions. you answered them honestly and you were genuinely proud of how well you were handling the whole situation when—

“bubs, you’re shaking.” sure enough, when you looked down at your hands, you were twitching uncontrollably, the reality of the events that just occurred finally sinking in.

you were just attacked. again.

you and your friends were threatened.

meiko was sitting in the back of a fucking cop car.

“what the fuck,” you whispered, eyes staring unblinking at your palms. the same officer mentioned something about shock, prompting all the boys to gather around you; atsumu pulled you in between him and sakusa, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, kenma and bokuto took hold of your quivering hands, sugawara and oikawa sat off to the side watching you with blatant concern, and kuroo and akaashi spoke to the officer in hushed tones.

the man nodded and shook their hands before shooting you a pitying smile and heading back to the car where meiko was waiting.

“it’s over angel, ‘s over,” atsumu muttered into your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead in between each phrase. you leaned into his touch but you refused to take your eyes off meiko who was watching the whole scene from the backseat, her eyes wide with anger, hurt, and confusion.

you didn’t bother dwelling on it, instead focusing on evening out your breathing and looking at the car drive over the horizon. you heard yachi’s soft voice calling everyone inside, atsumu lifting you up to your feet and walking with you, never once taking his hands off of you.

still, his words echoed in your head, even as yachi spoke of the end of the hyper house, even as the boys brought you to your room, and even as they all automatically cuddled around you in an attempt to get you to sleep.

it’s over. it’s all finally over.

you couldn’t keep the grin off your face if you tried.

℗ poker face

it’s over

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OK THE TITLE IS MISLEADING THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET SKENSM (there are 2 more official story chapters before all the endings :3) also m not the biggest fan of this chapter?? so i’d love to hear what y’all think <33 don’t forget to feed me!!

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

���Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

[suite43]

"Are you just going to stand there all night?" Starscream muttered, glaring from where he was laying in bed, wings tucked to one side.

"Where else am I supposed to go?" Bumblebee asked. He wasn't looking at Starscream, just standing on the other side of the room, staring out one of the absurdly massive windows at the city below.

Bumblebee sighed. It was late. Really late. Slug was probably getting dragged out of Maccadam's right about now, probably by a cranky Ironhide and the other dinobots. Wheeljack would still be up, somewhere, if not at the bar then tucked away in a workshop or other. Blurr was probably still working. Bee absently wondered what time it was on Earth, and if Optimus was okay, and tried to guess where the Lost Light might be right now.

He missed them.

Recently he'd taken to spending his nights wandering around the massive Iacon tower where Starscream lived. It was always mostly empty in the late hours. He'd mentally mapped almost all of it. Down to the basement to watch whatever the hell Starscream had his mnemosurgeon up to, thinking up ways to chastise him for it in the morning. Around the public spaces, tracing the patterns of the incredible stained glass windows and the tiling of the floors. Up and down dozens of flights of winding stairs that probably would've killed him had he still had a physical body. He still felt an ache in his bad knee, some nights. Through the offices of the delegates, often catching miss Windblade working late, muttering to herself, or occasionally talking to Chromia.

But he knew the tower too well. It was beginning to just remind him of how fucking alone he was. He'd long since overcome any nerves or feelings of impoliteness about eavesdropping, but it was still painful to walk in and out of rooms without so much of an acknowledgement that he'd been there at all. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes in the late late nights in big empty towers where he could scream and yell and stomp as much as he wanted and nobody would so much as blink, a part of Bumblebee began to think that maybe Starscream is right.

Does it even matter? The more sleepless nights spent wandering empty buildings as a pathetic excuse for a poltergeist made Bee start to think that if everyone else was convinced he was a hallucination, maybe he was.

"Where else am I supposed to go?"

Starscream didn't respond at first, leaving Bee to his thoughts. Or maybe he was having thoughts of his own. Equally broody ones, probably. Bumblebee wanted to not care what Starscream was thinking. But he cared.

"You could at least sit down."

///

Days bled into weeks into months, and their interactions became more comfortable, despite everything. There was less denial on Starscream's part, that certainly helped. Being told you're not real twenty-seven times a day by the only person who can see you isn't exactly good for ones mental state, and Bee was greatful for the change.

The nights were still hard.

As far as Bee could tell, he didn't need to sleep. But, even when the stubborn bastard said otherwise, Starscream did. Which meant there were usually at least a few hours Bee had to pass alone.

Most nights does not mean every night, though. Starscream was still an insomniac.

And at some point, Bee had moved from sitting by the window and brooding to dragging the chair closer to Star's bed, encouraged by one too many passionate late-night conversations about some plan or other that they'd gotten way too into.

Being closer to Starscream meant more noticing the tossing and turning, the restless flicker of optics and quiet uncomfortable muttering that filled his nights before Starscream would eventually give up on the whole "sleep" thing, shoving his face into a pillow and letting out a string of swears.

"Are you okay?" Bee asked, one such night.

"What do you care?"

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Tch. Hardly."

"If you're worried about keeping a secret, remember I physically can't talk to anyone else. If you're worried about embarrasing yourself, remember I'm literally dead. No matter what you are actively doing better than I am in terms of survival."

"And yet, that doesn't stop you from being one judgy son of a bitch."

"Eh, it's an autobot thing. Judgy is what we do, isn't it?"

"Agreed," Starscream smirked, despite how exhausted he seemed, and something in Bee's chest gave a slight lurch at the sight.

"Seriously, whats bothering you?"

///

There came a point where "comfortable" became "casual", which became borderline intimate at times, which was astounding. Despite being stubborn and cagey and completely avoidant about 90% of his real issues, Starscream had managed to be genuine for long enough to manage good conversations.

Bee felt much more certain with that. Starscream was connecting with him, in his way. Which meant that Bee couldn't be that fake, or that annoying. He was probably real. Which was confidence-boosting. He didn't dread alone time nearly as much, knowing that he was making an impact on at least one person during the day made the nights a bit easier. Still, Starscream didn't sleep much.

"I don't get it..." He was drunk, and muttering, more talking at Bumblebee than to him, tired and barely coherent and definetly obsessing. Starscream could barely keep his eyes open. He was laying in his bed, which was pressed into a corner of the room, facing the nearby wall.

The nearby wall, which happened to have a Bee blocking the view. He had sat himself in Starscream's bed, in one corner, leaning up against the walls, cane laying next to him, repeating bits of information back to Star and correcting him on this or that detail, rebuttling his more outrageous claims with bored No, you won't's and Really, Starscream?'s.

"You're driving headfirst into a cliffside and then wondering why you aren't getting anywhere," Bee said, interrupting Starscream's latest rambling.

"Well, if you're so smart, what would you suggest I do?"

"Go to bed, tackle it again in the morning when you have the common sense to climb." Bee smiled a little. He sounded almost like Prime. Or maybe more like Wheeljack? Didn't matter. It was solid advice.

"Or fly. I'm a jet."

"Sure, or fly, whatever. Go the fuck to sleep. You need it."

"I don't need you."

"Didn't say you did." Bee rolled his eyes.

"I don't need you to tell me what to do."

"Somebody has to at least try to make sure Cybertron's great and powerful leader isn't falling asleep at his desk tommorow."

"I've earned the right to nap wherever I damn well please."

"Not during a trial. Or a council meeting. Or-"

"We have a council meeting tommorow?"

"Yeah, you do, it's in your schedule. It's early."

"Fuck," he rubbed at his eyes. "I should've thought about that before I went and drank half a bottle of high-grade."

"I tried to warn you." Bee didn't see the point in mentioning that it was considerably more than half a bottle. He'd figure it out in the morning.

"...Thanks." It was quiet, and a little ashamed, and shockingly sincire.

"Um. You're welcome? I do my best."

Starscream stared at him for a moment, expression focused but unreadable. Then he rolled over, shifting his wings, snuggling in to make himself more comfortable, still muttering to himself even as he drifted off.

Bee sighed, letting himself slide down until he was laying on the bed. He could feel it under him, sort of. It was firm, but not much else. He didn't feel the smoothness of the silky fabric he knew Starscream spent way too much money on, nor the warmth that should be eminating from the sleeping seekers frame. He did, however, feel the steady thrum of Starscream's spark. It reverberated in the hollow of Bee's own chest, where his own sparkbeat was barely a faint flicker.

He wondered if Starscream felt that in the same way. A small, persistent tug at the edge of his spark, even when they weren't near each other. If he did, he'd probably call it guilt.

Bee sighed and closed his eyes, just focusing on the spark's pulse, the soft push and pull. He might not be able to actually sleep, but he could at least pretend for a bit.

///

Bee groaned and pulled himself out of bed, finally giving up as he left his apartment and marched down the night streets, following the tugging weight at the edge of his spark until he was face to face with a door into a familiar apartment in a familiar building and he was suddenly hit with a wave of what the fuck am I doing?

He spent a minute arguing with himself over whether or not he ought to actually knock on the door, but it turned out to be useless, because it slid open without him doing much of anything at all. In the doorway stood a weary Starscream looking surprised, but also not, to see the yellow minibot in front of him.

"Bee?"

"Uh, hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well," Bee suddenly felt very foolish. "I, uh, can't sleep."

"And... you came here?"

"Yeah. I guess."

Starscream just stared at him for a minute before turning away with a huff, retreating into the apartment, the door left open behind him. It seemed as good an invitation as he was going to get, so Bee followed him in.

He wandered through the apartment, following Starscream back to the bedroom, already feeling some of his nerves beginning to settle just by being here. It wasn't the same apartment Starscream had had when he was ruling the planet, but it was similar enough. Same decor, same layout. A bit smaller, but still, the whole place was overwhelmingly Starscream. He spilled out of the furniture, painted the walls and filled every nook and cranny with himself. His presence was, as always, undeniable and overwhelming. To Bumblebee, it just felt safe.

Neither of them really talked, and in fact barely even spared a glance towards the other as they climbed into bed, both for embarrasment's sake and a lingering fear that adressing what was happening would break it.

They continued not acknowledging it until Starscream, muttering something about his wings, rolled over to face Bee's back. Bee could feel Starscream's sparkbeat flittering anxiously, and was having to make a concious effort to keep his own close to steady as he moved backwards to press right against Starscream's chest.

There was a moment where Starscream froze, unsure of exactly what to do, but eventually he decided on tenatively wrapping an arm around Bumblebee's waist, growing more confident when Bee melted into it, relishing the simple touch.

Bumblebee slept better that night, pulled against Starscream's chest, knowing he was held and safe and real, then he had in weeks.

///

Bumblebee woke up first the next morning, Starscream's face nuzzled into the space between his shoulders, the jets breathing even and warm against Bee's plating.

He didn't make any move to get up, or even so much as twitch. He wanted to squeeze every second he could out of it, before Starscream woke up and shoved him away again and whatever this was inevitably ended.

But that didn't happen. Eventually, Starscream stirred, coming online with a jolt, like the act of waking had snuck up and startled him. He pulled away from Bee, looking around the room, letting his processor catch up with who and where he was. After a moment he soothed, letting out a shaky breath and pressing his face against Bee's cheek, wrapping his arms back around the minibot's waist.

"You're still here?" Star muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

"Where else would I go?" Bumblebee said. He didn't say it outright, but he used every fiber of his being to push I just want to be wherever you are out at Starscream and hope he got the message, because Bee didn't think he could say it out loud.

Apparently it was good enough, because Starscream's arms around him squeezed him tighter and he gently, so softly that it nearly seemed as if he was scared, pressed a kiss to Bee's neck.

"Thanks," he said. A part of Bee wanted to say for what? and another wanted to say you don't have to thank me and another wanted to say i love you, but he didn't say any of those things. Instead, he turned himself over, trying not to pull away from Starscream any more than he absolutely had to, and he kissed him properly. It was soft, and inexperienced, and lazy, and it was so good that Bee felt like sobbing.

He blinked away tears and let his head fall to lean against Starscream's chest, hands tracing their way up and down the plating of Starscream's arms softly. He kissed the golden glass of Star's chest, listening to the thrum of the spark behind it, the way it pulsed in time with his own, the tugging feeling sated for now but the presence of Star's spark alongisde his own as strong as ever.

[anonthenullifier]

In a follow up to Billy coming out to Tommy, how would Tommy come out to Billy? Would he even say anything or would he just appear with a boyfriend one day and cackle as Billy’s brain recalibrated?

Thank you so much for the ask! In case anyone wants to read Billy coming out to Tommy here it is. Below this is Tommy coming out to Billy...and Wanda and Vision because I figured the whole family should find out. I hope this meets your expectations of how Tommy would do it!

———

It was supposed to be an escape room. One of the ones where intellect wins and the biggest challenge would have been dealing with a bored and grumpy Tommy. “He is never planning,” Billy twirls around, arms engulfed by pulsating electric blue, and slices a chainsaw wielding robot in half, “again.”

Teddy’s glorious smile tempers his annoyance...marginally. “We are trying to escape,” he crushes a tentacled, monstrous vacuum-like robot between his hands, “and it’s a room.”

If Teddy wasn’t so stunning in situations like these, Billy would seethe for longer, but the sheer elation on his boyfriend’s face as another onslaught falls under their combined might is enough to make it seem a less horrible idea. Until his annoyance at his brother’s idiocy surges back. “This would be Tommy’s idea of a chill evening.”

Expertly Teddy deflects. “Where are they?”

It’s not something Billy had thought about in the ten minutes of endless fighting, but now that Teddy points it out, both Tommy and the newest recruit, David, are not visible. “He’s um,” Billy reaches out mentally, quickly finding the frenzied mind of his brother, the pattern of his thoughts like watching a pot of boiling water right before it bubbles up and over the rim. With practiced ease he latches on, keeping his own mind detached enough to not be dragged into the whirlpool of chaos, “they’re on the other side of that tower.”

“Race you?”

Billy grins, hanging back a second to appreciate the view, and then his hands alight and he rises into the air, body leaning with the current and wrists rotating forwards and backwards as he clears all obstacles from his path. If he allows his eyes to stray down to watch Teddy’s path of destruction, no one’s the wiser, neither Sam nor Carol here to scold him.

Five feet before Teddy reaches the base of the tower, Billy opens a portal, diving headfirst into it and then pops out of a second portal past the makeshift finish line, just in time to paint on his best faux innocent grin. “What took you so long?”

The dry “Congrats,” is made more genuine by the loving kiss that follows.

Tommy’s frantic “David!” ruins their moment.

“Shit.” Billy follows his boyfriend’s eyes up to a little walkway on the tower where David stands, hands gripping a rickety railing and glasses reflecting the menacing lights of the encroaching robot battalion.

Blue energy crawls out from between Billy’s fingers, his body gearing up to fly up and help their teammate, until Tommy sprints over. “I got this,” and then becomes a blur, zigzagging up the ramps and stairs, bowling through the last of the mechanical foes until they all crash down from the tower.

“He’s such a show—“ Billy freezes, head tilting to the side as Tommy scoops up David bridal style and executes a perfect Maximoff rescue, their lips meeting in fevered presses, David’s arms wrapping around Tommy’s neck, and their attention focused solely on passionately celebrating. “Um…”

“I told you David had a small crush on me, right?”

Billy’s brain slogs through recent memories, vaguely recalling this information. “Um...yeah?”

“Guess he moved on.”

“Guess so…” The mind isn’t a computer. Billy knows this, has sat through dad’s lectures on the tired and not empirically backed metaphor, and yet right now he feels like a computer that’s missing a vital update, his thoughts desperately trying to recalibrate and refresh itself to process the awkwardly long make out session in front of him. And then they stop, Tommy placing David back on his feet, though their arms remain around each other, and that’s when his twin starts cackling.

“Look at your face!” If this is some cruel joke, Billy doesn’t appreciate it nor does he appreciate the fact that Teddy is chuckling along with Tommy’s riotous glee. “Look at it.” Now David is snickering as well, the mood apparently contagious to everyone but Billy, who’s inoculated to Tommy’s shit by now.

Tommy hoists David back into arms and runs them down until they’re standing in an awkward sort of square-oval formation. “Oh don’t look like that.”

“I’m not looking like anything.” Real convincing.

“It’s not a joke,” his brother hesitates and then clarifies, “okay, depends on how you define a joke, but the message is real.”

What message was he sending? That he’s learned mom and dad’s celebration tactic? That he likes to catch Billy off guard and embarrass him or that...that he and David are still holding hands and that Tommy’s usual confidence is starting to crack and a spur of fear that never, ever exists in his brother’s mind has cropped up the longer Billy stays silent. All at once Billy’s chagrin disappears, replaced by emphatic happiness, one that manifests with a chuckle at the ridiculousness of his brother.

“Finally connect the dots?”

“Yeah,” Billy pulls his brother into a hug, ignoring the grunt of disapproval at such shows of affection, “thanks for telling me.”

“Of course,” Tommy pulls back wearing the sunniest smile Billy’s ever seen on his face, “had to make sure you knew first.”

A brush of his brother’s mind reveals an evening out of stress and concern, both things Tommy didn’t need to have, but Billy knows firsthand how terrifying coming out can be. “I appreciate it.” Billy steps back, eagerly accepting Teddy’s arm around his shoulders, “You going this elaborate for mom and dad?”

The glance between Tommy and David not only answers his question perfectly, but helps him see the genuine connection they already share and the future trouble of dealing with a mutually devious couple. “I have a few ideas, if you’re willing to help.”

———

Everything is set. There’s a conspicuous rope ladder hanging out his window, the banner is strung up over the table with his cake and party hats, he’s got a box of party poppers under the comforter, and, most vital to it all, David is laying next to him.

“You nervous?”

Insanely. “Nope,” he’s a pretty gifted liar but the little quirk of David’s eyebrow lets him know he isn’t fooling anyone. “Fine, a bit.”

He has, for a long time, made fun of Billy and Teddy’s little reassuring kisses, but now that David tenderly brushes his lips to Tommy’s forehead, he’ll have to admit it’s a little calming. “Me too. This is going to be my first time meeting your parents outside of uniform.”

Oh shit, he hadn’t even thought about that or how awkward this all might be for David. Other than the crushing fear that their acceptance and love can only extend to one child (something he knows is not true but still can’t shake), Tommy has no qualms with the method of coming out they’ve gone with. He thinks back to all the talks (the many many many talks) dad has had with him on respect and consent. Things he has considered and put into practice but it feels way more important now. “If you aren’t comfortable with this…”

“I’m fine, just nervous,” another kiss, but this one on the mouth and exciting instead of soothing, “and really looking forward to the cake.”

It’s a three tiered cake, each layer a different color of the flag, all wrapped in white buttercream, and in the fanciest writing Billy could muster it says: I’m bisexual . They argued over whether to add an exclamation mark, but Tommy himself would like to insert the enthusiasm instead of the frosting doing it. “Me too.”

There is the tell-tale chime of vibranium phasing through a wall and the less easy to spot sound of wind going through his dad’s intangible body. Good thing Tommy has snuck around enough to recognize it. “Come here,” he pulls David closer, deciding if they’re going to have to incur suspicion, might as well have some fun with it. It’s successful, the chiming moving from outside to inside the master bedroom and then footfalls let them know his parents are outside the door. Tommy steals one more kiss, “You ready?”

Except David can’t let him win and sneaks one more. “Are you?”

“Yep.” He is. He has never been more ready in his life which is why it’s aggravating that there hasn’t been a knock and the door hasn’t clicked open. “Be nice if they moved faster.”

From outside there is a muffled conversation, one that sounds like it involves a lot of gesticulating and disagreement. Then he can hear Billy, his guardian angel, chime in, “You can’t let him get away with it. That’s not fair.” What a sly and loving asshole.

Dad sighs, and it’s a deep one, one that means he’s exhausted from his mission and just wants to relax but now there are shenanigans he has to deal with. That’s when the knock comes, followed by, “Thomas?”

David giggles and Tommy does his best to shush him, only that just encourages it further and now Tommy’s sniggering as quietly as he can. “Thomas?” A more forceful knock and more barely subdued laughter. “Thomas, I am opening the door.”

His fingers grip the party poppers as he waits for the light to switch on and then Tommy leaps up with a “Surprise!” The first party popper bursts to life, confetti flying all over his comforter. “I’m bi!” The second popper erupts with even more force.

It’s through the settling confetti that he sees the confusion on mom and dad’s faces and suddenly it all feels too much, too elaborate, too close to a joke. Even Billy’s double thumbs up from the hallway doesn’t allay the dread circling in amongst the swirling shreds of paper. He tracks every movement of his parents’ eyes as they take in the cake and the banner and the streamers and oh...yeah this is awkward, “Um and this,” Tommy helps David out of the bed, “is my boyfriend, David.”

Mom and dad look at each other, some unspoken thing passing between them and then dad walks over to the table, grabs two of the pink, lavender, and blue striped party hats, hands one to mom and then delicately slides the elastic band of his under his chin. “It’s nice to meet you David,” they shake hands and then dad, without asking permission of any kind, wraps Tommy in a tight hug. “I love you.”

This is usually when he squirms away, utilizing his super speed to avoid such displays of affection, but this time he allows it, reciprocating the hug and smiling as mom joins in to make a Tommy sandwich. “We love you so much.”

“Thanks.”

After about a minute it’s a bit much though, something his brother senses, exuberantly declaring, “Anyone want cake?” David, bless his heart, takes on the role of cake slicer and disher, passing out the plates and making sure Tommy gets the corner with the most frosting.

It’s all a bit surreal, a bit too wholesome for his tastes and yet it’s also perfect, mom’s hat askew while dad grimaces at the overly sweet frosting she offers him, Billy chatting happily with David over some punch, all under the handcrafted banner of Guess Who’s Bi?

Tommy smiles, digs his fork into the cake, and joins them, feeling more like himself than ever before.

[phantaloon-books]

Alright I got a couple comments asking for a continuation so here's part 2 of neil finding out the feds were onto smth when they recommended witness protection program

part 1

(Also thank you so much, I genuinely didn't expect such a good reception, everything I write is purely self indulgent)

Andrew is gonna fucking lose it. It's been over three weeks and not a single word from Neil fucking Josten. He's never hated him more, and this time he means it when he says hate. Actually he's not sure he hates himself or Neil more, but he feels hatred and rage and that's what matters. But of course the rabbit just left. Once a rabbit, always a rabbit.

He wanted so desperately to believe that, that Neil chose to run, that he chose to leave him them and keep running because that's what he knows best. Even if believing Neil chose to leave hurts him more than he'll ever admit, it's the best thing to believe. It's best to believe that Neil left than to believe something happened. It's best to believe Neil grew tired and bored of him them than to listen to the worry and dread Andrew's been feeling for months. It's best to believe Neil didn't want him than to let himself think of worst case scenarios.

But he can't make himself think that Neil left willingly and because he wanted to (and not it's not because he wants to believe that Neil wouldn't leave him). Neil would never run without his things, not without his stupid binder and money and contacts, not without clothes or any resources. If he ran away he would do it properly. He wouldn't leave with running clothes and his stupid flip phone. And most importantly Andrew knows that Neil has been restless lately. He's seen the way Neil checks every corner or every place, observes the people, looks for threats. He'd left those habits behind, so something has to have happened. Neil didn't just leave him.

The best thing is the other foxes aren't convinced Neil would run either. He had no one to run from, and he had a family now. And even if he was feeling overwhelmed or anxious, he would have come back. He wouldn't have taken three weeks. So they know, they know, Neil didn't leave because he wanted or needed to. And they're all anxious as hell about that bc if he didn't leave where is he?

They narrow it down eventually, and conclude that he got in a fight and is dead in a ditch somewhere, he had an accident in a coma in a hospital somewhere, he somehow got lost and/or lost his memory, someone killed him accidentally or not and his body is buried somewhere far away, or he's been taken. And Andrew cannot take the stress that he doesn't know where the fuck Neil is any longer.

He almost killed Kevin and several federal agents when Neil went missing for a few hours. This time, he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but that hasn't stopped him from tearing every dorm apart and the stadium and the police station and the hospital and getting in fights with the FBI. He's desperate enough that he called Browning, hell, he's desperate enough that he contacted the Moriyamas, which wasn't a pleasant experience, but Ichirou had promised Neil protection and this definitely called for mafia intervention. So far neither the FBI or the Moriyamas had helped - yes they had, they informed him regularly that they were looking for Neil, but they had nothing, no clues no trails, and Andrew couldn't believe their incompetence, like for fucks sake the Moriyamas were yakuza, they ought to know what could have happened to one of their most valuable assets. And anyway if he ran, and wasn't taken, they for sure would be behind him, looking to kill him of course, but they still couldn't find him.

Andrew hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but he will soon if he doesn't find Neil, and he's sure he will start with himself. He can't remember the last time he slept or ate well, or went to exy practice, but he doesn't care. He can't care until he knows something. The lack of knowledge is driving him crazy. At this point knowing that Neil is dead and has been rotting in the countryside of Poland would be better than not knowing anything.

He hates this so much. He hates Neil for disappearing. He hates whoever went and got him. He hates the Moriyamas for not being able to find him and not keeping him safe in the first place. He hates himself for becoming so attached. He should have known better. He knew better. He knew it was a bad idea to feel all the things he feels for Neil, especially because it's Neil, the unpredictable rabbit. But he fell for the fake hope that they would make it, that he wouldn't be hurt again, that Neil would stay. He knew letting someone in again could kill him. He knows that if they don't find him, it will. He can't keep going like this. He was stupid enough to feel hopeful, but he won't be able to live once the hope dies.

He's laying in Neil's bed. He knows it's pathetic, but frankly he doesn't care. Everyday is worse than the last one. He's slipping and when he falls it's game over, he's going to make sure of that. If Neil genuinely cared, he'd be pissed at Andrew for even thinking about this. No he'd be upset, but not pissed, about the fact that he's considering taking his life over this. But he opened the door to feelings, and he won't be able to cope with them and he won't be able to close that door again. He's giving up.

Faint buzzing interrumps his thoughts. Someone's calling him. He couldn't stomach the runaway song that matched with Neil's but he couldn't stomach changing it either, so he leaves in on vibrate now. He looks at his screen. It's an unknown number. Most likely the FBI or the Moriyamas or a random police station ready to take him out of his misery and just tell him they found Neil's body. The code says it's from Minnesota. He considers not answering, but he might as well get over it.

He flips the phone open, "I only care about this if you are from the FBI or the literal mafia, so if you aren't from either, feel free to hang up." The other line stays silent for a few seconds, but when he looks at his phone, it's still going. The person didn't hang up. He doesn't have the patience for this. "I'm just gonna hang up then-"

"Andrew, wait." It's barely a hesitant whisper. The voice is absolutely shattered, rough and hoarse and very painful-sounding. There's wheezing too and labored breaths. But god. No matter how wrecked he sounds, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. In half a second he's up and falling from the bed in his haste, alert at last. He can't believe it. He wants to but he doesn't want to believe the call is real.

"Neil? Neil is that you?" He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but the thought dies quickly. There's no way, no way this is real. A sob breaks through the line, and oh it sounds so full of pain and fear.

"Andrew, I-I need you to stay safe. I don't know if they're coming for you, for the foxes. I need you to find a place where you're safe. Call Browning or Ich- the little Lord and make sure they can protect you guys for a while."

Okay that's definitely Neil even if he didn't answer the question. And Andrew's heart is going a thousand miles an hour, he doesn't feel his body anymore.

"Neil where are you? I'm coming to get you, I'll call Browning but where are you?"

"'Drew," another sob, and this one manages to break Andrew's walls more than than the whispered 'Drew', "promise me you'll stay safe, don't come looking for me, you can't take them down, please don't come looking for me."

The exhaustion and terror in his voice doesn't sit well with Andrew. The Neil he knows is not this. "For fucks sake Neil just tell me where in Minnesota you are, I'm coming to get you."

"No- no you're not, I'm not calling you because I want you to come. I just need you to promise you'll be safe."

"Neil who took you? Where are you? I can send the FBI or the japanese shits over, I swear to god I can send them to come get you if you just tell me where you are and who took you. I'll - I'll try my best to keep the others safe, but who took you?"

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I- I didn't mean to, please believe I didn't mean to leave, they- some of the Butcher's pals found me, I'm so sorry- I put all of you in danger again."

"Okay, that's something we can work with, now where are you Neil?"

"Andrew-" his breath hitches, he gasps and whimpers, "I'm so sorry, I have to go, I need to leave Andrew. Please stay safe. Look I- I love you okay? I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier."

"Neil wait don't hang up-"

And the line goes dead.

The world is falling apart, collapsing all around Andrew. He's numb but he feels encompassing terror. He can't feel a thing, he can't think. He was so close. It feels like Neil just slipped past his fingers, like he just let go of Neil and let him fall to the darkness. He thinks he may be falling too. He needs to call Browning. He does it instinctively, he doesn't register he has his phone to his ear until the FBI agents voice is calling to him. He also goes with what he's gonna say with the same instinct he pulled in Baltimore, knowing he can't mention certain mafia.

"Neil just called me, I have no idea from where, I have no idea how he got a hold of me, he didn't say a thing, he refused to say a thing other than we're in danger, the foxes, and that whoever took him will come for us- oh and apparently it's someone involved with the Butcher."

How he managed to be as apathetic and unattached to everything he said is beyond him. But whatever he says and whatever Browning says, FBI agents are now guarding them in the locker room of the Foxhole Court, with mattresses and mats laid down on the floor. and he doesn't know how they got here and he's cuffed all over again, but this time to Renee even if he doesn't remember being violent. Even the stupid rookies are here, looking extremely panicked and terrified despite most of them not giving a fuck that Neil was gone just hours ago. The other foxes - Neil's family - are pressing Andrew for answers, but he can't deal with anything at the moment.

He needs to call Ichirou too. That's the call that matters, because that's the call that can bring Neil home because he can't do that himself while cuffed to Renee and being guarded by the fucking FBI. He somehow convinces the agent to let him make a call, to his therapist he says, to grant him privacy even if that's utter bullshit. He's dragging Renee into the eye of the storm but oh well, why did they cuff him to her in the first place, it's not his fault. He calls the Moriyama representative he's been dealing with and thank Renee's god the woman answers.

"I need to talk to- to Lord Ichirou, it's about Neil Josten's whereabouts, I got important information about him." He can feel both the condescension from the other end of the line and poorly veiled shock from Renee. "I know where he is, I know about who's got him, I need to talk to Lord Moriyama."

He isn't sure how he managed it. He doesn't know how he convinced them to let them talk to their mafia boss, or how he's able to keep his cool for long enough to actually talk to the man himself. He thinks having Renee there, who asks no questions and keeps her hand on top of Andrew's with no hesitation, is part of the solution but he's not admitting that. Either or, he talks to Ichirou (he can't deny he's not terrified of messing up with the man who keeps Neil alive, but he's not admitting that either), reminds him of how Neil is important to the Moriyamas, both as an exy player and as a Wesninski, and how Neil, Kevin and Jean are loyal to the Moriyamas, hints at how Ichirou promised protection. He has perfect memory, but he will never remember how he convinced Ichirou Moriyama to send people to Minnesota and look for him all over the state and surrounding states, all he knows is that Ichirou stuck to his promise, all is good, he didn't fuck up.

Weeks pass again, nothing happens. There's no news from the Moriyamas, the FBI keeps telling him they're doing what they can. Andrew is done. No one came looking for them at least, which is nice bc they didn't die but it doesn't feel worth it when Neil wasn't back. He feels stupid for hoping he would come back safe and alive. The Moriyamas might as well have killed him for being such an inconvenience. Things are going to hell. Andrew was an idiot for falling so hard for Neil Josten. It was a mistake. He should have known better.

His anger is gone, and numbness has settled. It was becoming a habit for him to remain lying down most of the day. It was also becoming a habit for the foxes to take care of him when he did this. He can't even bother to shower if someone doesn't remind him every day, or eat, or drink water for that matter. He's a mess and he would be incredibly embarrassed if he cared a little, but he's slipping and he doesn't mind falling. Nothing is fine. Until it is.

It comes in the form of a text one morning, while he's lying on the couch in the living room. An unknown number again, New York code, and it only reads, "Threat has been dealt with - I". And what the fuck does that mean. It tells him absolutely nothing. If Ichirou bothered to text him he could at least be clear as to what the fuck that meant. Was Neil even alive? There is a soft knock at the door. Of course, someone bothers him when no other fox is at the dorm. They couldn't ditch every class to make sure Andrew didn't combust spontaneously.

He truly doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to go answer the door. It's too much a bother. If it's someone important they'll either knock again aor shout for him to open up. He curls up in bed. He honestly wants to disappear. There's another knock, a little harder than the first. But there's no voice, no demand, no nothing. Maybe it's a Moriyama. Maybe he'll feel so disrespected or whatever he's gonna barge in and end his misery. Whatever. "Fuck off", he shouts from the couch, hoping for the best. There's another knock, for fuck's sake, can they just walk in already? Another, and he's up. Pissed and going for the door.

"Fucking hell, what do you want?" His anger is back with a passion, and he's practically stomping to the door, throwing it wide open, "Just barge through the fucking door, and get it over with-"

He has to stop exploding when people don't answer to him right away. Maybe he should work on his patience. Because frankly it has been working against him at the worst times. No it's not his fault. It's the idiot's fault for appearing at out nowhere and stealing his breath away. Everything is Neil Josten's fault.

"Hey Drew," said idiot's voice is impossibly more hoarse than when he called him before. Andrew can't tell if his heart is beating too fast or not at all. He thought he was a mess, but Neil looks like he's been through hell and back. Well, he's been through hell and back too many times before, but he's never looked this bad, and he was a mess after Evermore. His face is beaten so badly, so swollen, if he didn't know him and those stupidly blue eyes so well. Even his eyes are different, there's no spark, they're dull and hazy. He's wearing a large hoodie and sweatpants, so Andrew can't see the damage beyon his face, but at least his hands remain okay, there's no new damage. "Looks like I still have it in me to leave you speechless, huh."

Andrew takes a deep breath and he sighs. And his heart breaks. Neil. Neil. Neil is here. Andrew wants to craddle him and hold him and never let him go again. He doesn't care if it's soft, Neil is here. He raises his hands, frames Neil's face like he has before. He presses a hand to Neil's neck, looking for a pulse, and he finds it. He's alive.

"Neil," he breathes, and he feels. He feels. "You're alive, I thought, you-"

They're both silent. Andrew doesn't notice when Neil raises his hands, framing his own face. They've been here before.

"I'm not leaving you, I promised right? You're not getting rid of me that easily. "

He hates feeling this much, "You've got some explaining to do, but- it can wait."

"That's good yeah, because I'm not sure how much longer I can remain conscious and the Moriyamas weren't the best at patching everything up, so I'd really appreciate it if you call Abby."

He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he guides Neil inside, holding on to his hand like a tether. Neil deflates, he grimaces as Andrew helps him to the couch. He's obviously hiding something below the clothes. Andrew stands to call Abby, but Neil grips his hand tightly. When Andrew looks up, he sees the fear and exhaustion he heard on the call weeks ago. Neil isn't able to keep up the act of being okay for long.

"Stay, pl- just," he looks away, and Andrew doesn't know how to feel about the pause, he didn't say the word, "can you stay?"

And he does. Things aren't fine. Neil is a mess. So is Andrew. They have to work through stuff. Andrew clearly has to work on the apparent dependancy issues. But they'll have time now. Neil is safe. He's alive and safe. He lost consciousness not long after he sat down, but Abby, Wymack and the foxes are on their way. They're not fine. But Neil is lying next to him, and he isn't gonna let him go again. They'll be fine.

[easily-infatuated23]

The Tub: Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my first one of these so sorry if it sucks but here goes nothing!

Part Two Here

warnings: just some light fluff, small mention of bullying

summary: reader is having a really hard day and when she goes to relax in the prefects bathroom the unexpected occurs 

word count: 2k

The castle is enormous. So enormous that getting lost becomes part of my daily routine. But sometimes, its so crushingly small it's hard to find a place to be alone to get away from the constant noise of what feels like hundreds of middle and high school students. Everyone’s first choice of escape is the astronomy tower, so much so that a Ravenclaw tried to institute a sign up sheet as to insure the crowds wouldn’t mass as much. They were unsuccessful. The truly hidden places of the castle are few and far between and for those of us who aren’t lucky enough to find the Room of Requirement, we must get creative. The most recent spot I have found is the Prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor. Moaning Myrtle will sometimes float through but we are on good terms so she generally will leave me alone.

As a Seer, the noise of the world is extra loud in my head. It's bad enough to have the regular noise, but the passing through of others’ thoughts is exhausting. I have gotten better at shielding myself but it takes a lot of energy. The Prefect’s bathroom has been a wonderful solution because within the chamber is a large bathtub which I use as a jacuzzi, to relax and reset. I am just so tired. The added layer of being Seer as well as a non pure-blood in Slytherin, takes its own individual toll. My family had been pure-blood until my parents. My mother had married a muggle man.

I started late in the sequence of years at Hogwarts. My family moved from America to England which meant I transferred into school third year. For a while people were interested in me but that died down within the first month. However, when I let my family heritage slip, I became as talked about as Harry Potter. As a descendant of Merlin himself, people began to attempt to get close to me just for the idea of “fame” rubbing off onto them. Harry and I have had discussions about it together but I know he secretly enjoys it, even if he doesn’t know he does.

Today wasn’t just any typical Thursday. The excitement for Christmas break was buzzing around the castle, practically inescapable. The world was loud and I was tired. Luckily, today is a short day so I was able to escape to the Prefect’s bathroom after lunch. I usually waited until I knew most of the castle was either at a meal or doing homework but today the world had been especially loud. I tentatively filled the tub checking my surroundings for a stray ghost or student. Once it was full I climbed in and allowed myself to fully relax. The noise melted away and it was like I could finally breathe.

After only fifteen short minutes I heard footsteps and looked up to see the last person I would expect or want to see, Draco Malfoy. The Prince of pure-blood Slytherin, the cruelest person within the castle besides Professor Snape. He had never gone out of his way to be mean to me in particular, but if one of his buddies started something he would be sure to join in. When people found out about my abilities, I had been forced to read him in front of practically the whole school. I saw such pain and fear in his life that I nearly passed out. To prove to him that my abilities were real, he told me to tell him something from his past only he would know. I said “a talking diary and a ripped page from a bookstore”. Ever since then, he never challenged me again. And yet here he was now, invading my hidden corner, my escape from everyone.

We locked eyes as he walked in and we both froze. “What are you doing in here?” he asked sharply. I didn’t reply but simply began to get out and grab my things when his voice interrupted my actions. “I’m not gonna make you leave I was just asking. You looked dreadful during Potions today, are you ok?”. For the first time, his words and his tone matched and seemed genuine. “Everyone has been really loud today. Let's just say that if I never hear the sentence ‘is he gonna ask me to the Yule Ball’ again it will be too soon” I remarked. He chuckled and looked down at his shoes. I now became acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him in just a bikini in a steamy room. My cheeks flushed and I slipped back into the tub. “Why are you in here Draco?” I asked. He looked up at me and sighed. “This is usually where I come to hide but I got here a bit later than usual, I didn’t think there was competition for this spot”. I frowned and looked away from him. “Yeah that’s my bad, I usually am in here much later in the day. It’s just been such a loud day already. I needed to decompress earlier than usual”. He walked closer to me, then circled the tub to sit on the window sill. After a few minutes he spoke. “Does it actually help quiet the world? To sit in there I mean”. He gestured to the tub. “Yes it does actually”. I replied.

This was the weirdest but nicest conversation I had ever had with him. I had never been fully alone with Draco before, was this how he was when he was removed from his asshole friends? In a moment of impulsive thought I blurted “You are welcome to join me if you’d like”. Shit. Why did I say that? This guy is literally the worst. “Wouldn’t that just add noise in your head?” he asked. “No, when its a group of ten or less I can actually turn everybody off quite easily. Anymore then that and it gets harder and harder”. He nodded and then looked out the window. I could see his mind working through his grey eyes, deciding if he would stay or go. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell”. He kicked his shoes off and began to loosen his tie. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t help myself watch him undress. I finally looked away and closed my eyes, relaxing my head on the edge of the tub.

The tub was big enough around that he could sit on the other side and we wouldn’t touch. The water churned as he got it. He sat closer to me than I had anticipated but I tried not to think about it as I took a deep breath and let my mind wander. “This is surprisingly relaxing”. His voice for the first time didn’t sound as strained or coarse as normal. “How did you find out about this?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “Have you never been in a jacuzzi?”. He shook his head. “Wow well that’s one thing wizards should definitely adopt from the muggle world” I replied, with a smile. He looked away from me quickly. Was that a hint of blush coming from his cheeks? Probably just from the heat of the water I rationalized. “Do you do this everyday?” he asked. “At least once a week. It's good for the soul”.

There was then a long period of silence. At first the silence was uncomfortable, but the longer it persisted, the more comfortable it became. A couple times I could have sworn that the water churned in a way that would indicate him moving closer to me. I didn’t dare check. I kept my eyes closed as the odd smile would flow across my face without thought. When I finally did open my eyes, he was less than two feet away from me. We locked eyes and I smiled. He gave a timid smile back before looking away again. I wanted to use my abilities to slip into his mind and hear what he was thinking but I held myself to a strict rule. “This seems like a pretty necessary time to use it” the voice in my head remarked. I physically shook my head to expel that thought from my mind. I felt his eyes on me. “I wasn’t inside your head by the way. I thought about it but decided that didn’t hold up with my rule so I shook it out of my head”. “You can if you want” he replied. I looked at him and sat up a bit. “My rule is I only purposefully do it if absolutely necessary or if the person gives me permission or asks me to do it. Are you asking me Draco?”.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could filter them. Was that flirty? Did I just flirt with Draco? The thoughts swirled in my head only to be broken by his response. “Yes I am” he said sincerely. “Can I have your hand? It’s easier if I have physical contact”. I said. He nodded  and stared into my eyes as I moved closer to him. I clasped his hand and imagined his energy and thoughts flowing into my brain. His head was relatively quiet, besides one thought practically screaming. I opened my eyes and looked into his, stunned. “What was I thinking?” he asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard. “You were thinking ‘is it wrong that all I want to do is kiss her’”. I felt my cheeks turn red but I didn’t break eye contact. “Is it?” he asked. “No” I replied, unaware that a smile had crept across my face. He smiled back as his eyes darted from my eyes to my lips and back. I moved his hand which I was still holding to my cheek. His free hand moved underwater to my lower back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath. He moved his other hand to my waist as I cupped his cheeks with mine. In a tender moment, not overly embroiled with passion or lust, we kissed. It was innocent and sweet. It made everything else seem unimportant. It was as if time slowed to a stand still. After a few moments we both pulled away and shared a smile that became a laugh. “I can honestly say this is not how I thought my day was going to go” Draco chuckled. “Me neither” I added. Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “Wait what time is it?” I asked. He checked his watch. “Two o’clock, why?”. “Damn, I promised I would meet Ron for a game of wizard’s chess. I always beat him but he insists on constantly challenging me”. I started to pull away when I noticed his face drop slightly. I pulled close to him again. “I am not making up an excuse to run away from you. Believe me I don’t want to go but if I don’t Ron will come looking for me and this would be a hard situation to explain” I remarked with a chuckle. His face picked up a little. “Are you staying here over Christmas?”. “Yes I am” I replied. “I think I will too, I’ve recently started to fancy you and I kinda want to explore this without the pressure of the whole school being here, if that’s ok with you” he smiled. “I would like that”. “But for the moment we can’t tell anyone what happened here or that we are even friends” he remarked suddenly. “It’s not my favorite reputation to uphold but if my father finds out I am seeing or being seen with someone who is not a pure-blood..” he trailed off. I pulled his face close to mine again and looked deep into his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. Remember, when I read you two years ago? I saw all of your past. I understand why”. His eyes were sadder now but he still managed a small smile. “Ok now I really have to go” I said as I kissed him one more time before climbing out of the tub. He watched me as I changed back into my uniform, smiling a bit more smugly now. “When can I see you again?” he called after me as I walked towards the door. “Friday night, let’s meet in the common room. Everyone will be gone for Christmas by then”. “Its a date!”. I turned back and blew him a kiss which he caught and immediately pressed to his lips. My heart fluttered as I jogged to the Great Hall. “Oi, where’ve you been?” Ron questioned impatiently. “Sorry, got a bit caught up” I remarked, smiling at the secret Draco Malfoy and I now shared.

[mrspanky]

The Time We Lost: pt 2.

(Pt.1 here).

Jason Todd x Reader (female pov).

Content: Angst, language, and mentions of killing.

Readers note: I had fun with this hehe. It’s mostly just angst/romance and nothing explicit happens here but anyone is free to expand the end to nsfw content, I’m just not comfortable doing so personally. If you guys are interested I’ll do a part three! I’m loving this series so far and I have some ideas for continuations. Songs to listen to while reading: Honestly I just had Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde on repeat while writing! Other songs I’d recommend that fit the storyline though, and not just the vibe, are are Scary Love by The Neighborhood, and If Only You Could Ease My Mind by Art of Sleeping.

𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫𓅫

You felt your face go white as you gaped at Jason entering the bedroom window. The red helmeted figure turned to face you and froze, standing tall and terrible, silhouetted by the storm outside sending lightning flashes through the sky. It felt like you were in a 1920’s horror movie. But you weren’t in a 20’s film, and the figure at the window was no Dracula. He didn’t move. “What are you doing here.” His voice was muffled because of the helmet and had a quality to it that told you he must have had a microphone in the mask he was using to make his voice clearer. It didn’t sound like him, but the way he pronounced his words was eerily the same as it had been. You shook off your nerves. “Hello to you too. You’ve been gone so long I thought it would’ve given you time to come up with a better opening line”.

You kicked yourself internally. You had no idea what mental state he was in, and here you were already giving him attitude. As you were worrying, he began to reach up to take off the helmet. A sense of dread overtook you. Would he be scarred? Would he even look like Jason anymore? He pulled it off slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a grey streak in it that hadn’t been there before. “Wasn’t planning on seeing any of you again, sorry it slipped my mind.” Your heart sank. He looked so much older than he had, just as you’d noticed with yourself earlier in the mirror. Not in a wrong or crude way, necessarily, but it was a painful physical representation of the time you had both lost. “Were you just not going to let me know you were alive?” A strange sense of anger came over you. “Come on,” he smirked. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come back to haunt all you assholes?”

“So I’m an asshole now, is that it?” Casually, he took off his jacket and shirt and dropped them on the floor, then sat with his back to you on the bed, taking off his boots. “Maybe”. Infuriated, you exhaled sharply through your nose. “Jason, how the fuck am I the asshole here. You were gone for so long and then you just come back without a warning and start harassing Bruce, and you even have a new name and costume? I would’ve, and have killed during all this time just to hear your voice one more time. To hear you say you were ok. That you survived and that you were coming back...to...to us, ...but nothing! You were dead! We didn’t...we didn’t know. We couldn’t find you. We couldn’t find you, and then we all broke. I broke. And…” tears were streaming down your face. “...and...I’m sorry”. He was very still for a moment, and then he stood and walked to the window.

With his back still to you, he silently looked out at the storm still clashing outside. You stared at him, feeling hopeless. Suddenly, a sensation began to overcome you out of nowhere. Raising your hand to your forehead, you unexpectedly began to feel yourself sway, and you crashed to the floor out of exhaustion. Jason turned around quickly. Confusion and then fear overtook him. He approached you quickly and kneeling over you; he checked your pulse. Relief flooded him as he felt your heart beating steadily at your neck. “She was terrified,” he thought, cursing himself. “Way to go, fucking zombie.”

He hadn’t known you before to be someone easily scared, so he felt even more frustrated. “Why’d she have to come here. I didn’t need her to see me like this. Bruce deserves to see what he could’ve prevented happening if he didn’t have such a fucking stupid moral code, but she didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, she even said she’d killed. I don’t even want that for her, though. Damnit”. He looked down at your flushed face. Despite himself, he’d missed you. He carefully reached down and picked you up, walking over to the bed. He laid you down, trying to be as delicate as he could. “Well, this is a fucking mess,” he thought to himself.

You woke up in the middle of the night. Your head hurt, and you were somewhere you didn’t recognize. Dazedly, you sat up in the bed you were in and glanced around, trying to make out your surroundings in the light coming from the faint and soft city glow from the window. Your eyes landed on a figure on the other side of the bed from you, facing away from you. You jumped, startled by the unexpected sight. Quick as a flash, the figure turned over and pinned you to the bed. You looked into the eyes above. You recognized it to be Jason, as his eyes widened slightly, and he let you go and got off you, sitting up. You started to get up and back away. “Wait, I’m sorry,” he said. Without thinking, Jason reached out and embraced you.

This was so out of character, and both of you were intimately aware. The unspoken gravity of his action hung in the air. Well, it wasn't precisely out of character. Jason was born a naturally emotionally in-tune and affectionate person, but years of pain had given him walls that even he couldn't break down. You gasped and froze. It had been so long. He didn’t let go, partially because he was in shock from what he’d just done and partly because he was in shock from being this close to you for the first time in ages. You could smell his familiar scent of cigarette smoke and that musky cologne he’d been wearing for forever. You melted and began to cry silently. This was definitely the most you’d cried in a short period of time since you could remember. He tried to want to let go because of his fear of being truly intimate with people, but his feelings betrayed him, and he pulled you closer, holding you tightly as you clung to him just as tightly. His eyebrows furrowed in pain as he remembered against his own will how much he’d genuinely missed you. Before he had died, you had been the only person he could always count on, no matter what.

You softly lifted your hands and reached up, touching his face for the very first time. It was softer than you had expected, but you felt a few little scars. You stared into his intense blue eyes. They had a faint ring of hazel around the pupil, and it faded into tones of green that you’d never noticed before that meshed with the blue, creating a complex layering of colors that reminded you of the sky, sea, and earth, all coming to meet each other. He was so beautiful. Your stomach hurt from how badly you just wanted to absorb him to yourself forever and never let him be hurt again. You badly wanted to be closer to him, but you weren’t sure if kissing him was a good idea. He lightly inhaled, taken aback by your hand on his face, once again startled by the first positive physical contact he’d experienced since he couldn’t remember when. He gazed back at you, taking in every detail of your sad face. You were so ethereal in the lighting from the window, like a sorrowful angel from a stormy Renaissance painting.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He missed you. He really fucking missed you, and he wanted you. “Fuck it,” he thought. No more pushing this feeling down. Before he could change his mind, he reached forward and grabbed your face with both of his hands, sore from fighting but strong, and brought both of your lips into a harsh and desperate collision. You froze with shock, lighting spreading through your body. He was so strong and savage. And yet, he was tender. You felt that he’d been just as desperate for you as you’d been for him. “After all of the time we’ve lost,” you thought. You melted into him once more, kissing him back with the same level of desperation, as he brought his one hand to the back of your head and grabbed your hair, his other hand not leaving your cheek. You breathed heavily in between kisses. “This cannot be real,” you thought.

[cl-01-kestis]

Incorrect Morals

Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Rebel!Reader | Part 7

Summary: You receive a call from Thrawn once again and spend the night getting lost in conversation, and after a tense negotiation with a team of rebels, you get stuck in a sticky situation with Kallus.

Warnings: slight romance, angst (literally all these chapters have angst i-) (I’m also sorry to all of you Kalluzeb shippers. I do ship it very much but it isn’t a thing in this story 🥺)

-

Chiss translations:

Ch'ah tsucarah = I promise

Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn? = but only if you do the same?

Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah = I will, don’t worry about me

Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae = I’ll worry about you as much as I want, now go

It was 10:45 PM.

The sky dimmed into a pitch black and Omani had gone to bed due to how mentally and physically exhausted she was, mostly because of the journey and the fact she had seen her dad in person for the first time and her mind wouldn’t shut up about it. As for you, you had just gotten out of the shower. It had been a long day and your visit to Naboo had been cut short due to obvious circumstances and you felt the need to clean up.

You stood in front of the comunual refresher mirror, drying your hair with a spare towel you had lying about as your body was on full show. No one used the refreshers at this time of night so you didn’t necessarily need to cover up.

You brought your bag to the showers since you went in a refresher as soon as you undressed from your Senator outfit. You scrubbed your hair and body, unable to shake the feeling of anxiety off your skin as you washed yourself under the cold water.

The towel soaked up all the water on your body as you dried your hair and flung the towel around your shoulder. Your body was cold against the cool air coming into the showers, but you found it pleasant, it made you feel comfortable. You brushed your hair and put on clean briefs and a black sports bra after putting deodorant on. The towel was still draped around your shoulders and neck, catching whatever water droplets left your strands of hair and making sure none of them soaked your bra. You slid your legs through a pair of black leggings, shimmying your hips into them and bending your legs slightly so they could adjust and not fall down.

You shuffled around in your bag and grabbed ahold of your holo device, switching it on as you washed your face in the mirror. You scrolled through the news articles that came up on the holonet, nothing too exciting was going on at the moment apart from the galactic war. A twi’lek presenter was broadcasting the daily reports for the New Republic, her face plastered with a fake smile as she read off the papers sorted nearly in front of her. You watched with a bored expression, listening in loosely as you put on some deodorant and whistled a small song to yourself.

As you rubbed your hair with the towel some more, a small incoming call notification popped up on your holo device and you stopped to look and inspect the number with squinted eyes. It was Thrawn.

Sighing to yourself, you accept the call and turn around to make sure no one’s coming in as his holo image illuminated in front of you on the bathroom sink. You were met with a tired looking Thrawn, now wearing a white long sleeved T-shirt and his hair no longer layered by gel. You looked at one another for a brief second, Thrawn’s scarlet eyes looking down at your torso and realising you were wearing only a sports bra before returning his gaze to yours in a respectful manner, he made no comment.

“Hello again,” Thrawn managed a small, warm smile. You repeated his actions and let the corner of your lip curl up as you ruffled your hair some more with the towel and placed it on the counter of sinks after.

“Hey” You mumbled back, resting your palms on the edge of the sink just so you had something to lean on. Your posture was relaxed but your shoulders seemed tense, that’s what Thrawn noticed as you rolled your neck around your shoulders to relieve some tension. You looked stressed.

“I want to apologise for today, I didn’t realise you were going to be attending” He sighed, fumbling with the hem of his T-shirt sleeves as he kept his eyes on you, doing his best not to look away out of shame. You shook your head, turning around so your hips leaned against the sink.

“It’s alright, I’m not judging you for doing your job” You noted, crossing your arms and smiling in an assuring manner at Thrawn who took some relief towards that, his body relaxing slightly as his eyes grew soft.

“I do feel embarrassed though, I also want to apologise for Pryce” He continued, causing you to cringe and frown at the mentioning of that woman’s name.

“Don’t be sorry for someone who isn’t; you don’t need to cover up her tracks, she worked beside me a few times back when I was an Imperial after all, so I know what kind of person she is” You corrected Thrawn quickly, gaze turning fierce and angry but it wasn’t directed towards him. Your face scrunched up in displeasure for a moment, hands clutching at your bare upper arms and trying to ignore the rising frustration building up inside you.

“She is... dull to work with, so I don’t blame you” Thrawn’s words made you chuckle and nod in agreement, your eyes unconsciously staring at him for a bit too long until you quickly cleared your throat and ran a hand through your scalp.

“It was a pleasant surprise to see you today” Your words projected veracity, and Thrawn felt his heart beat flare up in anticipation at that single comment, even if it wasn’t a massive one. He bit back a smile and nodded his head.

“As with you, Rcati,” Thrawn beamed, some strands of loose navy hair falling in front of his eyes that made your heart skip a beat, or were you just imagining things?

“I must admit, you looked very beautiful, I can’t recall ever seeing you in a dress” Thrawn leaned back with the support of his arms, it made you realise he wasn’t sitting in his chair but maybe the floor? You weren’t sure, but it certainly wasn’t his chair.

“Dresses aren’t my thing, I only need to wear them for the Senate to make a ‘positive impression’” You used your two fingers on each hand to make a sarcastic emphasis on the last part, and it warmed your heart to see Thrawn chuckle in response.

“I know the feeling, it’s all about positive impressions now a days. But how has it been? Being a Senator?” Thrawn looked more and more excited the more he spoke and asked you things, his eyes sparkled with interest and his mouth never stopped curling up as he looked right at you. You reminded yourself that this was the real Thrawn you were talking to, not the Thrawn you saw back at the Senate. As scary as he could he, this was as real as he could get, and you were grateful he showed this side of himself to you, even after years of not speaking to him. The trust was still there.

“It’s been tiring, I’ve not been working recently but all the travelling and meeting new people really drains you” You answered frankly, scratching the back of your neck as Thrawn hummed softly. He seemed to study you in a subtle sense as you awaited his answer, he trapped his chin between his thumb and index finger and his eyes stayed unfocused for a few seconds.

“You hate both of those things, i genuinely can’t believe you took a career as a Senator- I mean, you dreamed of being a soldier your whole life, why not do that with the rebels?” Thrawn’s voice held interest as he tilted his head slightly and a few more strands of his hair fell on his forehead. Thrawn frowned and tried fixing the hairs but gave up soon after they kept falling on his face. You noticed it now, Thrawn’s hair was longer than it was when you worked with him at the Empire. He had it cut much shorter, but now it was at least a few inches longer. Of course it wasn’t as long as his hair used to be on Csilla, but you’d give a lot to see him with that hair again. He suited it more than you wanted to admit.

“The reason is our daughter, and I’m too busy to be a soldier now. The fear of dying in battle and leaving Omani alone terrifies me, I could never do that to her... I’m the only person she has at the moment” Your voice lowered the more you spoke, gaze drifting off to think about the scenario you feared most. Thrawn nodded his head, understanding what you were getting at and doing his best to try and emotionally sympathise with you.

He wasn’t good at emotions, he never was. He feared weakness, and made little to no efforts to connect with anyone in the Empire what so ever. It was a cold life for him, but now he felt he had to do something, anything, to connect with you. He never realised it until you left, but Thrawn liked you, a lot, and not just for the sex or company. If anything, he loved you. And the thought of you disappearing again made him nauseous, completely sick to his stomach with anxiety, and that was something he had never experienced before. Pure and utter dread.

“That’s a fair point, I wouldn’t want her being left alone” Thrawn returned his gaze to you and he took his time to study you until you looked back at him. Your body hadn’t changed that much since he last saw it, but he noticed the stretch marks peeking out of the hem of your leggings, it was obviously from your pregnancy. The sight made his heart swoon.

If there’s one thing Chiss are always proud of, it’s having a family and a mother or father to have their kin. Thrawn’s gotten so used to the fact he was a father throughout the last few days, he forgot about all the worries and concerns he had about the Empire just by looking at Omani’s face. He didn’t even know her, hell, he didn’t even know she existed until recently, but he already felt so much pride. That was his daughter, a daughter that you gave him. And the thought of you looking after Omani for so long, and risking so much to keep her safe, made Thrawn utterly fall in love with you. Not that he wasn’t in love with you before.

“She was at the Senate today as well, wasn’t she?” Thrawn raised a brow, bending his knee up to rest his elbow on it. Okay, he was definitely sitting on the floor, or his bed maybe.

“She was, she saw you and freaked out” You chuckled, making the situation more lighthearted and trying to avoid telling Thrawn about how scared she was, you didn’t want him becoming guilty.

Thrawn sighed. “She smiled at me though, I guess that’s a starting point”. Your smile widened at his comment.

“Omani will come around eventually, hopefully when the war ends, then maybe-“ maybe we could be a family. You cut yourself off before you said anything else, wincing internally after realising you said too much and would probably be questioned by Thrawn about it. Your face was hot with embarrassment and you cleared your throat to waft away the tension.

“Maybe...?” Thrawn persuaded with curiosity, leaning forward and raising his other leg up so he was sitting more comfortably. You looked away from Thrawn and pinched the bridge of your nose, waving away his comment and trying not to get butt hurt about thinking too much about what you desired more than anything in the world.

“Just getting ahead of myself, that’s all” Your voice was quiet but clear enough for the Chiss to hear. You sniffed but no tears were in your eyes, thankfully for your sake. But that didn’t stop Thrawn from wondering desperately what was on your mind. He practically knew you when you were a baby, your parents knew his very well and he bonded with you the moment he met you; him being 5 years old and you, a new born. But when you became an adult, he wanted to know what you were thinking, what you were perhaps feeling, maybe - and hopefully - feelings towards him? He could never crack you, and now he was faced with the same issue.

“I won’t push, but whatever it is, it’s obviously bothering you” You sucked in a breath at Thrawn’s statement. He was right, he knew he was. Were you ready to tell him though? You only spoke to him once before now, after 14 years, but somehow your feelings for him have never changed. If anything they’ve grown stronger now that you’ve got a direct link; Omani.

“It is bothering me, and it has for the longest time... but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet” You clutched the edge of the sink and ground your teeth, afraid you said too much all together. You felt like keeping your feelings from him was unfair, he done nothing but tell the truth to you and he proved his loyalty to you after saving you and Omani at the Senate. He might have been Empire, but you and Omani being rebels didn’t stop him from protecting either of you from harms way.

“Do you... remember the nights I’d come over to your office, and we’d just talk? Sex or not, but just... being in each other’s company?” It was a strange question, you knew it, but Thrawn wasn’t confused by what you were getting at, he nodded his head and urged you to continue. You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously and raised your hand up to your mouth to bite at your nails. Thrawn noticed this and reached out on the hologram, his blue, illuminated hand reaching out but unfortunately going right through you. He flinched back, his hand slowly returning to his side and his expression falling.

“Those were some of the best memories of my time at the Empire, with you, and only you” You looked at Thrawn with pure sincerity and he knew instantly you were telling the truth. His throat went dry at your confession and for a second he had no clue how to reply, your words caught him so off guard but he didn’t waste too much time coming up with words to respond with.

“The feeling is mutual, Rcati, you’re the only person I’ve really confided in” Thrawn looked conflicted as he let the words slip through his teeth, the hands you weren’t able to see below the hologram were clenched and his knuckles were light blue. He was struggling to get his emotions out, but he loved to hear you do it.

You said nothing in reply to his comment, you only smiled at him. Looking at you now, Thrawn thought you were stunning. You were glowing as you looked at him with such emotion, the tears visible in your eyes even though none of them spilled and the breathtaking smile covering up half of your face. It truly was a wonderful sight to see, it made him realise for the first time in years that he really needed something like this. The Empire was a tough place to work in, he never knew how much he needed you to keep him afloat until this very moment, even the moments before on the hologram.

You were his life, and you always had been, but he was sad that he was only realising that now. He had known you since birth, known you for 42 whole years and now did he know you were his reason. His reason for what? Life. To carry on. To push through the war until it was over and hopefully see you after it was all over. Omani as well. Maker, he needed Omani just as much as he needed you.

“What’s on your mind?” The Chiss asked in a small, quiet voice, as if someone outside was passing by his chamber door. You ruffled your hair once again with the discarded towel on the sink and rolled your neck around your shoulders, sighing pleasantly at the released tension.

“Us” You answered in a hushed whisper, your mouth snapping shut after the word slipped through your teeth and made it’s way to Thrawn’s attention. He smiled at your reply, looking down shyly at his clasped hands before peeking back up, his scarlet gaze piercing right through you. You felt exposed but you didn’t want to hide, he had seen through you many times before.

“Same with me” He seemed to lean in closer through the hologram, you got a sense you were leaning in too and trying to kiss him, but the distant echo of Rebels chatting to each other caused you to whip your head around to the entrance of the comunual showers. Thrawn seemed to hear it as well and his once calm expression was replaced with a disappointed frown. He wasn’t worried of getting caught, he was pissed your time was cut short.

“I have to go” You whispered, looking back to Thrawn with eyes full of reluctance. He nodded once, running a hand through his face and closing his eyes momentarily, you genuinely thought for a second he done that on purpose just to rouse you up, but you brushed it off your shoulder and cleared your throat.

“Till next time, Rcati ton” Thrawn smirked, his fingers still tangled in the back of his scalp as he leaned forward to the holo device to hang up.

“W-wait” You called out just before he hung up, his gaze raised on you once again and he bit back a smile.

“Take care of yourself, for me?” You blushed, head hung low but your eyes were still connected to his. Thrawn’s face softened and he sent you a small curt nod. “Ch'ah tsucarah” He spoke softly, catching you off guard slightly with his sudden use of Cheunh but you chuckled softly in reply.

“Rab nor rah vah k'ir ch'at rihn?” Thrawn tilted his head to the side, his hand playing with the hairs on the back of his neck which stood on edge, he wasn’t anxious, he was just excited at the interaction between you.

“Ch'ah csarcican't, k'ir nah can'a about ch'ah” You chuckled.

“Ch'ah’ll can'a about vah veah ch'otco veah ch'ah ran'as, non ch'pae” Thrawn ushered in a quiet voice, laughing softly as he spoke which made you too laugh.

“Till next time, Mitth’rawn’nuruodo” You nodded, eventually tapping the red button to end the call and feeling a part of yourself leave with Thrawn the moment the bright blue glow of the hologram disappeared, leaving you alone in the refreshers once again and in the unpleasant white light on the ceiling.

-

“So we’ve got squadrons coming in left and right, we should relocate our star fleet to somewhere where the Empire doesn’t find our base” You said in a clear voice to those standing around the holo table, including Kallus and Zeb, who had recently returned from a mission with the Phoenix squadron. Hera was standing nearby, listening into the negotiation which you were the chairman of currently, listening in to people’s different ideas and hopefully coming to a mutual conclusion.

Kallus was recording down everything being said, typing frantically on his data pad and gathering all of the different ideas from everyone so you could look into it after the meeting and hopssully come up with an idea to settle things. He was a busy man, he worked his ass off and you noticed how much he cared for this rebellion.

He never changed throughout the years, even if he was a cold hearted Imperial once, so were you. You had your fair share of horrid deeds that you certainly weren’t proud of, and neither was Kallus. But you Teo seemed to be like two peas in a pod when it came to planning meetings and getting a mutual agreement. He was your right arm, always.

“I think we should take the fleet outside of the outer rim” Someone came forward, a young zabrak female with full suited soldier uniform and a sniper attached to her back.

“That might be a good idea, but the outer rim has more New Republic ally’s than outside of it. Still, I shall record that down- Kallus” You regarded the blonde man standing opposite you at the table, his dark eyes focused on you in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You held your stare on him for a moment longer than necessary, before turning your attention back to the zabrak who smiled at you, grateful you took her suggestion into consideration.

“Any other ideas?” You asked, eyes looking around the table in one quick glance before turning to Kallus who pursed his lips at the sudden silence that fell on the group.

“I-uh, pardon me for asking Senator, but weren’t you at the Senate negotiations on Naboo yesterday?” A young rebel man raised his hand with a polite expression on his face. You tensed at his question and nodded.

“Is it true? Was Grand Admiral Thrawn really there?” Another rebel asked with a peeked interest, desperation to know about the events that took place yesterday, the events you were trying so hard to stop thinking about. Kallus’ eyes widened and he felt himself tense for you, this wasn’t going to end as well as you and him had planned.

“It’s true” You sighed, resting your hands on the edge of the holo table and trying your best not to look too uncomfortable about the conversation.

“Woah, how did you get out?” The same rebel asked with a look of astonishment, but you didn’t budge. Your face stayed stone cold and you exchanged an uneasy glance with Kallus who cleared his throat and adjusted his T-shirt collar.

“Save those questions for later, I need you all to focus on the fleet, please” You insisted, hitting your hand slightly on the table with your teeth clenched.

From afar, Kanan and Hera looked at one another, knowing fine well what was going on in your head the moment Thrawn’s name was mentioned. The two of them heard about the events at the Senate, and how you were the one who managed to get Thrawn to prevent any arrests from happening. There had been chatter around the rebel base, and Hera was fearing for you. If your secrets got out, you would be untrustworthy amongst the rebels. And that was the last thing she wanted for you, especially with Omani by your side.

“Meeting dismissed, I shall look at the suggestions and come up with something, for the time being please go and get some rest, it’s late” You waved away all of the rebels who had joined the meeting, bidding them farewell with smiles and nods of the head. Kallus stayed with you and walked around the table once the rebels were away, resting a hand on your shoulder and waiting for you to say something. Instead of words, you unexpectedly grabbed Kallus and wrapped your arms around him, tears brimming at your eyes and lip quivering as you gripped onto his jacket and sniffed. Kallus froze for a second but placed his data pad on the holo table, wrapping his strong arms around you tight and raising a hand to stroke your head.

“It’s alright, shh...” He soothed, rubbing your back and holding onto you as you fought back an army’s tears that started to spill down your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really stressful recently” You cried softly, holding onto Kallus for dear life as he leaned his chin on the top of your head and closed his eyes, the smallest crease next to his eyebrow as he listened to your sobs.

“You don’t need to apologise for anything, just let it out” He encouraged, continuing to stroke your head and doing his best to comfort you.

Leaning back, you looked up at Kallus with glossy eyes, cheeks stained with fallen tears and face hot with humiliation. Kallus cupped your cheek, studying your face before frowning at your state and sighing.

“What’s got you so worked up? Is it Thrawn?” Kallus asked with calm articulation, his hands keeping you in place as you wiped away your tears and nodded your head weakly. You couldn’t verbally say anything in fears you would start crying, and Kallus seemed to understand that. Beneath the worried expression on his face, he was angry. He knew he was going for the wrong person, he knew you’d never be over Thrawn.

But he loved you, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Ever since Kallus met you on the grounds of the Imperial Palace 16 years ago, far before you fell pregnant, he was smitten with you. Even if he was a higher rank than you, and trained you, and was meant to see you as a mere soldier and nothing more, Kallus always had a soft spot for you.

“I’m going to regret this” Kallus murmured, right before pressing his lips against yours and causing you to freeze in his arms. Your eyes shot wide open, you weren’t expecting this at all. His actions were so sudden and the feeling of his lips against yours made your brain cloud over with endless thoughts. It was nice being kissed, it always had been, but this wasn’t right.

Even though it wasn’t as good as a kiss from Thrawn, you closed your eyes and kissed him back, maybe just to feel something aside from the stress. You hesitantly cupped Kallus’ cheek and tapped it a few times, signalling for him to pull away. You didn’t want the kiss to go any further, you didn’t want to lead him on, and by the looks of it he knew what he had done was a mistake.

“That was nice” You commented with an assuring smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb and making him chuckle awkwardly at your words.

“I’m sorry, I felt like if I didn’t do that any sooner I’d beat myself up” He hung his head low, frowning and probably mentally strangling himself, but you didn’t like the way he looked so sad. He knew you didn’t feel the same way towards him, maybe you did like Kallus, but you weren’t over Thrawn. Either way, you tilted his chin up and kissed him once more. The blonde man sighed against your lips and closed his eyes momentarily before grabbing your hand and taking it away from his face, eventually pulling back once again and frowning.

“What was that for?” Kallus raised a brow, looking confused but also amused at the same time.

“I wanted to even things out” You smiled, nudging him playfully to try and get rid of some of the tension surrounding you both. He seemed to be pleased by your comment and laughed. The sting of rejection was soothed by your kindness and Kallus realised that you didn’t feel any different about your friendship with him. But still, it hurt.

“Are we gonna have to start giving each other goodnight kisses now? Cuz if so-“ You joked.

“No, don’t be silly- unless that’s what you want of course” Kallus joked back with a relaxing demeanour. You rolled your eyes at his comment and shoved him playfully, eventually bringing him in for a hug once again and feeling shitty for not feeling the same towards Kallus.

“Well that was weird” Hera whispered to Kanan and Zeb who were watching from afar. The two men nodded in agreement, confused stares on their faces as they watched you depart from the ex-ISB agent and make your way to your chambers.

How weird, indeed.

[nothorses]

hey sorry if it comes off as weird, but i'm a bit desperate. i had a real bad time figuring out my identity growing up and for like, the past 4~5 years i've become really comfortable and happy whenever i referred and thought of myself as a gay nb trans man; i experience legit gender euphoria whenever ppl address or acknowledge me as such, and the most connection i feel is to gay/bi men/men-aligned ppl. that said, i've struggled with obsessive/intrusive thoughts since i'm like, 12~13 due to (1/?)

a phobia, and they often appeared when i was already feeling low/stressed/anxious over unrelated stuff. y'know when you're having a good time and suddenly your brain goes 'oh hey, remember that thing you have doubts about and makes you distressed? and you think it's not true? well, here it is again (: you're welcome!'. that's it.

so social isolation due to the pandemic has taken a toll on my mental health and recently i have been... struggling a lot not only with dysphoria (i was supposed to start hrt last year but it was postponed due to, well), but also with obtrusive/intrusive thoughts over 'how i'm faking it, i am actually a cis lesbian' (i never felt attracted truly to women, even tho i had kissed two before, and i am Positively attracted to men in a way i can only describe as 'gay').

it has gotten to a point where i cannot think about, y'know, woman characters from stuff i like that i feel like this is somehow a sign i'm actually a lesbian; i have been dreaming a lot of situations i'm either framed as a lesbian or a straight girl, i have been hyperaware of how cis ppl perceive me (pre-transition, as 'girl') and obsessing over little shit like, if women are looking at me in certain ways when i have to go out (sometimes even 'wishing' it, as if it wanting to 'prove' anything).

i feel...... exhausted, none of these make me feel good, all of this makes me feel distressed. i get dreadful when i take 'lol ur lesbian' results at stupid internet quizzes too. i feel like i cannot talk to anyone about it bc i feel like they're gonna try to feed me either 'internalized lesbophobia' or terf rhetoric, which is smth im v aware of, and part of the reason i've been obsessing over as well.

i had mild doubts about stuff before (like if i was rly a binary trans guy or nb, or if i was bisexual) but none was... like this, y'know.  i was also dumb and read a bbc article about detransitioning ppl which opened with 'studies say most trans ppl dont doubt' etc. featuring two cis lesbians that detransitioned after entering a relationship with one another. i feel rly rly rly dreadful i wish i could go back to feeling like myself (gay and guy) like i did before.

i'm sorry for the longest fucking ask btw, and also, tumblr hadnt let me send the rest for like, Hours, i'm deeply sorry

[Edited for formatting]

I think a lot of this is very normal, especially for transmascs.

We’re constantly fed this idea that we can’t really trust our own perception of reality, that we don’t know ourselves as well as others do, and that the things we believe about ourselves are temporary, silly, and “signs” of some deeper reality that someone else knows for us. It’s only natural that we’d internalize some of those feelings, and struggle to trust even the most irrefutable evidence of our own realities.

If it helps to have some tools in those moments, a couple of reminders:

Cis girls do not typically dread the idea of being girls. They might dread the social repercussions or expectations, they might hate girls who look/act in certain ways, but they do not typically hate that they are girls.

If you are feeling dread over the idea that you might be attracted to women, you probably aren’t! It’s good to work on feeling more at peace with the possibility, because orientation can be very fluid for some folks, and being ready to accept yourself if things change takes a lot of pressure off- but if you don’t want to be with women, you just literally do not have to be with women. For any reason. Even if you are “secretly” attracted to them, if you don’t want to be with them anyway, you simply do not have to be.

Trans people experience doubt. We experience it all the time. We experience it pretty much endlessly! Maybe there are trans folks who never, ever doubt their genders, and I’m very happy for them; but that’s the exception, not the rule, in my experience. This study talks about the steps toward trans self-acceptance, and finds each step is an ongoing process, and often a back-and-forth. It was very comforting for me to recognize the patterns & know I’m not alone.

The focus on AFAB detransitioners is driven by transandrophobia. Because saving the “poor little girls” is a compelling motivator in a misogynistic society. Most detransitioners are actually folks who were AMAB, and found the societal pressure and backlash was too overwhelming, or made things too unsafe, for them to carry on with their transitions. Most detransitioners, period, are people who had to stop because of safety issues, or lack of access to their transition needs.

It’s very normal to go through periods of high doubt, and periods of high self-assuredness. You may just have to ride this out; surround yourself with as much support and love as you can, remind yourself that those fears aren’t really based in reality, and be kind to yourself during this difficult time. Try to make choices that prioritize your mental and emotional health.

You will get through this period of doubt, and come back to finding love and joy in your identity again! It might just take a little time & patience.

(Also no worries over the sending confusion; Tumblr’s a lil broken sometimes, and it’s genuinely not even remotely an issue.)

[texanredrose]

Okay, to put some limitations on this, I’m only including the WIPs that I’ve done more than a synopsis for... that I can remember... that’s on Google Drive... that I actually think I might post one day... but haven’t posted yet because my posted WIPs are fairly easy to identify... okay... I got tagged by @unsteadyshade and I’m tagging @faunusrights and @alexlayer69

1) Across Time - Inuyasha AU where Weiss gets thrown back in time to the ancient past, where she meets two demons (Yang and Blake) warring against each other over a misunderstanding.

2) Alpha’s Devotion - Omega’s Strength, but from Winter’s POV.

3) Bears, Oh My - An exhausted Winter, lost on a hike, comes across a cabin where Yang lives with her three pet bears.

4) Brave New World - Continuation of the Dishonored AU where Ruby and Winter reflect on the new Mantle.

5) Bruised - Third installment to the ace!Yang AU. 

6) Coming Home - Based on Dash’s Tiny Knight AU, Princess Blake is betrayed and stranded far from home and must rely on a reticent knight named Weiss to return to her kingdom.

7) Complications Always Arise - Papa Schnee is demanding Weiss marry before he’ll allow her to take his place as head of the SDC, so Yang volunteers to pretend to be Weiss’ beloved. No one else knows the relationship is fake, least of all Blake and Winter, and it’s just a bunch of pain.

8) Divided - Continuation of the By Moonlight AU where Whitley returns to the castle and Winter’s not upset by that- and Winter’s upset by the fact she’s not upset and has to figure out why her inner wolf is cool with this when she should, by all rights, be furious.

9) Dragonsbane - Mage Knight Winter hears tale of a dragon in the countryside that the local villages wish to see vanquished. Winter, however, has other plans.

10) Eye of the Beholder - Blinded and near death after a battle, Winter is rescued by the mysterious Yang and is nursed back to health despite her protests otherwise. (It’s a Medusa!AU.)

11) Fabled - Fable 3 AU where Princess Ruby and Princess Yang are forced to confront the fact that Queen Raven has lost her fucking mind, only to discover that fear drove the woman insane- a fear they must confront themselves.

12) Fields of Love - Farmer Yang offers a job and housing to apparent single mother Winter and her young daughter Penny. What starts as a kind gesture grows into something so much more.

13) Full Circle - Van Helsing (2004) AU, Winter and Weiss, amnesiacs employed by the church to handle all manner of unholy problems, are sent to discover what happened to King Taiyang. Along the way, they become wrapped up in a centuries spanning prophecy and a bloodline hanging in the balance.

14) High Bar, Low Blow - Yang owns a bar where the gimmick is that everyone’s an out of work actor and the staff is staging an ongoing drama on par with a soap opera to keep their customers coming back. Winter joins the staff and then things get a bit real.

15) Hoodlums and Hijinks - Robin Hood AU where Princess Winter and Princess Weiss are just as in favor for overthrowing the king as the group of bandits run by Ruby, Yang, and Blake. 

16) Last One 2: Electric Boogaloo (title subject to change) - a sequel to Last One where the haunt continues.

17) Lexical Access - Sequel to Tip of the Tongue, where Yang gives her girlfriend a bit of roleplaying payback.

18) Little Red - Carmen Sandiego AU where Ruby was kidnapped adopted by a group of thieves and raised to become the world’s greatest thief, but a chance meeting with Penny via a stolen phone opens her eyes to the wider world, and she meets the rebellious heiress Weiss, street smart Blake, and brawler Yang, creating a team that works to foil Ruby’s former friends while eluding capture by mysterious operatives with a somewhat familiar white color scheme...

19) Long Term Investment - Yang, a fae who lives in the woods, makes a deal with Princess Winter to save the Queen. The price? Winter’s firstborn. Winter misunderstands how she’s expected to get pregnant and Yang’s never actually intended to collect. Next thing Yang knows, Winter’s moving into the clearing beside her tree home.

20) Miscalculation - Another Omegaverse AU where Weiss is an omega and Blake and Yang are alphas, except Weiss lied and said she was an alpha when enrolling in Beacon and now she’s locked in a room with Blake and Yang on the verge of starting her heat. Sharing is caring.

21) More Than Words Can Say - Winter, rendered mute by a military accident early in her career, is honestly the best girlfriend Yang’s ever had. However, tonight’s the night they’ve decided to get intimate, and that includes showing some scars that they don’t show often. It’s less about sex and more about trust and intimacy.

22) Music of the Night - Phantom of the Opera AU where the mysterious, disfigured shade of the opera house, Weiss, finds herself at odds with the rich, jovial Yang in a competition for Blake’s heart. Then there’s Adam being a dick, too, and the opera house has never seen so much drama.

23) My Heart Will Go On - It’s the Titanic, but double the rich, unwilling-to-marry ladies and triple the won-a-ticket-to-a-ship ruffians. Penny’s there too; she, like Ruby, just really likes ships.

24) One Fucking Favor - Winter’s due for a long assignment and wants to make a sex tape for stress relief purposes. Yang doesn’t ask questions; she’s just the one with the camera. But then, Winter’s partner for the vid doesn’t show up. What’s Yang going to do about it?

25) Prophecy - Star Wars AU where Ruby, Yang, and Blake are trained as Jedi, Winter and Weiss are part of the clone army, and Ruby’s the chosen one. That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, but Senator Salem is there to lend a helping hand...

26) Propositioned - Faunus experience bouts of heat; sometimes, they can safely ignore it and go about their lives, but every now and again, they really can’t. Concerned for Blake’s health as she’s skipped too many heats to be healthy, Yang sets up a partner for Blake’s heat. Blake’s not a fan but she does like the idea of banging Weiss Schnee.

27) Proven - ARK: Survival Evolved AU where Winter, after being ‘won’ by Yang, is taken into the bowels of the earth to learn how the underground tribes who inhabit the area survive in such an unforgiving environment. As she acclimates to the tribe’s ways, she finds herself carving out her own path, culminating in facing off against the Queen and proving herself worthy.

28) Reaping What You Sow - When Winter escaped to the countryside with Penny to start a farm, she knew she had her work cut out for her. In need of help and facing a harsh cold season, she hires Yang, a one armed drifter, to help her. The two end up needing the other more than they could’ve imagined.

29) Tear My Heart Open - Blake thought she understood how the world worked. As a member of the White Fang Gang, all she needed to do was keep everyone motivated to continue their ongoing street war against the police and authorities bent on keeping them down. But while running from the cops, she’s offered sanctuary in the home of one Weiss Schnee and her girlfriend, Yang. From there, her perception of the world is completely upended.

30) The Duel - After her father offered her hand in marriage to the winner of a tournament, Winter opted to assume a disguise and fight for the prize herself. In the final match, she faces Yang Xiao Long, a competitor she’s come to know quite well, and she finds her conviction to win wavering slightly. Is it enough to lose her the fight?

31) The Lies We Tell Ourselves - Weiss has made it; she’s opened her tattoo shop in Vale, well away from her father, and aside from a bad first impression with the florists across the parking lot, everything’s looking up for her- until her father finds her. Luckily, Blake’s been through some shit and doesn’t mind helping Weiss drive daddy dearest up the wall, even if it means letting her own parents think she’s dating Weiss. It’s not like either of them is going to catch feelings... unless...

32) The Princess’ Bride - After losing her fiancée to the dreaded White Fang Pirates, Yang vows to take to the sea herself and exact her revenge. Princess Weiss finds herself falling madly in love with Yang, who still loves Blake, and all this is thrown into even more chaos when Yang gets kidnapped and Blake comes back from the dead! 

33) Two for One - Yes, another Omegaverse AU. Five years after the fall of Beacon, Yang and Blake cross paths, each believing the other has spent the time keeping their mutual mate, Weiss, safe. When they realize Weiss is with neither of them, old wounds are torn open, but before they can resolve their dispute, Winter captures the both of them and hauls them to a remote part of Atlas where an SDC facility has been turned into a fortress. There, they find a mortally wounded Weiss clinging to life and raising twins daughters; she gives her mates until her death to endear themselves to their children, else the twins might opt to stay with Winter and be kept from Blake and Yang for good. Between learning about their kids, Blake and Yang navigate their complicated feelings and try to reconnect with Weiss, all while a sinister force gathers to destroy the fortress and steal the prize within.

34) Weaknesses - Loosely set in the Glamour AU, Yang is being forced to assume her mother’s position as leader of their vampire coven. Her fellow vamps disapprove of Yang’s werewolf girlfriend. Winter, of course, doesn’t care.

I got lazy and cut a bunch out. No, fuck you, I don’t have too many AUs, I will add more if I want. Also, some of these, the first chapter is posted on my Patreon. Don’t ask me which ones; I genuinely have no idea. I’m bad at this, y’all.

[hubbytaeil]

hello! i've been into taeil lately, so i was thinking about requesting him with prompts 46, 55, and 93, if possible. thank you in advance! 🌝💛

Taeil + #46 What’s this between us?, #55 Ruin me, #93 Don’t tell your parents

genre: angst, friends to lovers to strangers(?)

word count: 1k7 (this is taeil’s fault I swear)

warnings: smoking, slightly suggestive

a/n: now im s a d lol, this is what happens after bing watching sex and the city

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥  prompts ( send in your requests if you want <3)

This could be a dream, and yet it feels more like a nightmare. When you walked into your go-to bar, like you always do every other Friday, Taeil was the last person on Earth you thought you’d run into. The place is packed and certainly there isn’t enough space for you to run away and hide so you decide to just stand next to the counter with your friends, hoping he doesn’t come up to you.  

“Well, look who it is.” your blood freezes in your veins. You turn around in your heels slowly, preparing yourself for what you should say. “Hi, it’s been a long time.” You had broken up with him years ago and you hadn’t seen him after that. You knew that he was working for some corporate in the city but that was it. You had never run into him, not even once. To be fair, you had pictured how your eventual meeting would’ve turned out many times before, however all your fantasies can’t exceed this exact moment. Talking to him feels unreal, like being teleported back in time, a time before responsibilities, anxieties and fears. “You’ve grown taller, I see.” Taeil looks up at you pointing at your shoes. You hear your friends giggling behind you. “And you haven’t lost your sense of humour.” “That’s my only charm, you know that.” He swings his gin tonic in a circle before taking a sip. “C’mon, we both know that’s not true.” You reply gently tapping your fingers on your glass of Chardonnay. It’s definitely hard to keep eye contact, something is keeping your eyes glued to the counter. Taeil can feel it too, as he adjusts his tie.  

Fifteen years ago

“What do you mean you broke my mother’s favourite vase?!” “Exactly what it means, y/n. Oh God, please don’t tell your parents.” “Well, I’m not taking the blame again! Why the hell did you bring your football inside the house?!” “I’m sorry-” “That’s it, I’m never inviting you to my birthday party ever again.”

Those were the kind of fights you would have; you were only thirteen, life had only just begun.  

The days were filled with stupid notes passed during Math class, making fun of each other at lunchtime, eating ice scream at the park. If anyone could’ve ever been your first love, it would’ve been Taeil. You joined the music club just to spend more time with him, but you never said a word on the matter. You have such a clear memory of sitting through hours of rehearsals just to hear him play the piano. It was just a mere crush, you thought, it would fade away eventually. Yet, even now, every time you hear someone playing the piano you are taken back to that sweaty auditorium, you are taken back to the first time ever you had ever felt anything for someone. You are taken back to him.

“Do you still play?” you ask after letting your friends exchange pleasantries with Taeil, introducing him as an ‘old friend’. Inevitably, when one of the tables was cleared, they asked him to join in along with his friends.  

“Sometimes, not as much as I used to. Do you still sing?” Taeil mocks you and you cover your eyes in embarrassment. “Oh God, no.” Your conversation reaches the ears of everyone at the table. “Y/n, you didn’t tell you could sing!” “It was a school thing, I was awful.” An echo of disapproval invades your ears. “Don’t believe her!” Taeil shouts slapping a hand on the hard wood as if to prove his point. You go on saying how Taeil plays the piano magnificently to shift the centre of attention.  

The night goes on between a few drinking games and ridiculous anecdotes about college. Suddenly you ask Taeil if he’d like to accompany you outside to smoke a cigarette. “Since when do you smoke?” he questions, his tone is not judgmental in any way. “I don’t really smoke...” you begin to answer as you try to light up the cigarette. A gentle wind is blowing so Taeil helps by cupping the lighter, you thank him with a nod. “...only when I drink.” you finish after inhaling. Taeil raises an eyebrow in disbelief before pulling out a pack from his pocket. “I guess that makes two of us.” You start to grin and you find yourself unable to stop. “What it is?” “Nothing.” you respond as your grin transform into a full-on laughter. Taeil glances at you and finally gets on the same track as you and joins you. “Man, we’re old.” he exclaims taking a deep draw. “I guess.” “But you haven’t changed much since I last saw you.” You mean when I dumped you. You shut down the little voice of guilt. “Really? I don’t think so...” “You’re still gorgeous.” all of a sudden, the atmosphere is heavier.  

Ten years ago

“I think I’m love with you, y/n.” Taeil told you after making love for the first time. You stared at him in disbelief, unable to wrap your head around the concept of someone loving you back, more than anything your middle school friend who you had known for so long. Even after confessing to him your feelings, him saying he felt the same, all your friends congratulating you because they knew you two would’ve ended up together, you still couldn't believe you were holding the boy of your dreams right in your arms. But when you’re eighteen it’s hard to accept love, even if we long for it with such ache. For a while, you two had your share of fairy tale. For instance, when he kissed you on the first New Year’s Eve you spent as a couple in a square full of people. The fireworks reflected in his eyes but you ardently affirmed how those were in fact stars.  

So where did you go wrong? Why did what you had grow cold one day? During college you realised something was off. You thought the distance between you and your boyfriend Taeil couldn't jeopardise your relationship. However, as time went by, the physical distance slowly became emotional as well, you two being so invested in your lives.There lied the problem, you were starting to lead different lives. The few times you two could meet it didn’t feel genuine, you were trying to act like the people you once were. But those two were mere ghosts at that point.  

“Taeil, what’s this between us? "During the Christmas break of your senior year, you finally sat down with him to have the so dreaded discussion. It went on for hours, but Taeil wouldn't hear any of that. “No, I don’t believe this.” “Taeil, we’ve changed. Everything’s changed and I don’t know if we can go on like this. I don’t want to ruin your life by chaining you up to me.” “Ruin me, I don’t care.” It was like running in circles. The fight burned out eventually, leaving you two exhausted. You both looked up and you knew. “So, it’s over?” you nodded, unable to come up with an answer. He asked you if he could walk you up to your car one last time and you let him. “You know I’m going to win you back one day, right?” Taeil had tears in his eyes but he managed to smile at you. “We’ll see.”

It’s getting late and the bar is slowly emptying. Your friends begin to take off as well, leaving you and Taeil alone. “Do you want to share a cab, y/n?” “Oh, no thanks. I live just five minutes away.” “Oh.” Taeil hesitates before speaking out again. “If you want, I can walk with you. Only if you want.” “That would be nice.” your answer is sincere, not only because you’re kind of scared of walking alone at night, but because you want to keep talking to Taeil. You want to hear about everything you’ve missed, anything at all.  

You start walking side by side into the night, two pair of hands in your respective pockets. Taeil makes fun of the weird noise your heels make when hitting the sidewalk. “Oh, shut up! You’re just jealous!” “Yeah, you’re right. Do you have an extra pair? I could use the few inches.” It definitely doesn’t feel like chasing ghosts anymore. No, you’re just two childhood friends picking up where you’ve left off.

“Okay, I’m going to pop out the big question.” “Shoot.” “Are you seeing anyone?” you knew it was coming, sooner or later. You run through your possible answers and decide that there’s no point in lying. “Absolutely not.” Taeil assumes a shocked expression. “Why so categorical?” he chuckles. “It’s just... I haven’t had much luck.” You go on, counting down mentally how much time you have before you reach your door. “Good.” Taeil says point-blank. You glare at him not expecting him to call you out like that. “Excuse me?” “That means karma is real.” You both burst out laughing yet again. “What about you, mister Karma? Are you dating anyone?” Taeil stays silence for a bit before looking at you dead in the eye. “Absolutely fucking not.”  

“Well, this is it.” You point at your door with you finger. Now you’re both facing each other in front of the stairs. You’ve reached the endgame, and you’re dying to see how all of this will end. “This was nice, y/n.” “It really was.” another break of silence and you feel your heart giving in. You know you both want to say something, yet it feels impossible to make the first step. “Is it okay if-” Taeil stops mid-sentence which sticks a dagger in your chest. “Yes?” you barely whisper, anticipating whatever he’s going to say. “Is it okay if we see each other again? I mean, not as... but as friends. Is that alright?” Those words bring you a kind of happiness you never thought could be felt again. You take a good look at your old friend. His eyes still sparkle and you thank whoever it is that brought him back to you. “I think we can arrange that.” You don’t what’ll happen next, but it doesn’t scare you. In the air there’s a feeling of expectation which you breath in as you walk up the stairs to your door. “Y/n!” you turn around immediately, Taeil is about to get inside a cab. “Remember what I told you!” and just like that you watch him disappear into the night. This scene somehow looks familiar.

Can it be that It was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line? If we had the chance to do it all again Tell me, would we? Could we?

[obsidiancorner]

ObiYuki Bingo- Cyberpunk

Wherever You Go- Chapter 1

(Shout out to @ruleofexception for naming this thing that I have been struggling to name since my board came out and I saw what all was on it. )

Year: Ad Pacem-1103 (3119 AD)

"... They look human, making it nearly impossible to deduce who they are by physical traits alone. They have also studied our speech patterns.”

Shirayuki hangs her head in her hands, elbows propped on the very edge of her desk so she doesn’t skew or drop any pages of the research splayed out in front of her. Whoever leaked the info to the media signed their own death warrant. At a guess, they will simply vanish from existence under the silent vigilance of the approaching midnight hours.

“The specimen in custody converses fluently with the state officials interrogating it but it will not divulge any information regarding how long it has been here, what their objectives are, and, ultimately, what their interest is in Earth’s-”

Shirayuki slams her hand down on the button beside the small projector lens from her desk, hitting it too hard in frustration and her old desk groans in protest as the screen flickers out of existence, leaving her alone in the quiet solitude of her office. She resists the urge to pace by drumming her nails on the surface of her desk.

There’s always something going on. Nothing can be easy anymore. No break from one calamity to the next. The only guarantee is that some other shadow looms on the horizon. Why not an alien invasion? Sure. First it was a deadly plant they had to somehow make prosperous. Then it was a coup attempt that thankfully failed. Why not an alien invasion next. That’s way more interesting and potentially life threatening now that they’ve been found out.

With a heavy sigh, Shirayuki shuts off the newscast. She smacks the button on her console with more force than is strictly necessary and the screen before her shrinks into nothing as the shutter from the projector on the desk winks closed and the quiet whir of the computer dissipates. Obi will have something to say about that when they meet for lunch, Shirayuki thinks as she packs up to meet him at their favorite cafe.

-----------

Obi is late. He’s never late for food and he never skips a meal without a mandatory and likely classified reason. When the server approaches for the third time, Shirayuki orders him something just in case he shows up last-minute.

His food arrives but her lunch is ending. True fear creeps in with all the subtlety of a hurricane making landfall. The server, probably assuming she had been stood up for a lunch date, flashes her a pitied smile and packs the extra meal in a takeout box for her.

Shirayuki responds with what she hopes is a smile, though it feels like a grimace, before tucking Obi’s untouched meal under her arm.

She makes a quick stop at the lab to tell Garrack she doesn’t feel well and needs to take the afternoon off before heading home to stew in her worry in the comfort of her own home.

----------

“They can be found through infrared scanning,” Izana says as he taps his stack of intel reports on his desk to neaten the edges.

Obi drums his fingers on his leg. His nerves are fraying because nothing good can come of this. Aliens are among them and no government officials have been approached for permission to be here. It’s an aggressive and underhanded act from unnamed foes from heaven and stars only know where.

“What do you suggest we do? Makiri?”

Obi doesn’t flinch. Barely. It’s been a long time since he has heard such an aggressive level of annoyance from an employer. At least he isn’t the reason for it. Though his presence in this meeting leads him to believe he’s about to be a part of it whether he wants to or not, right along side Mitsuhide and Hisame who are likewise unfortunate enough to be sitting beside him.

“Your majesty, I believe it is for the best if we go ahead and authorize the military’s partnership with Cyberdyne Systems. We now have the technology to do it safely and we need a sharper edge if we are going to defend ourselves against such a threat.” Makiri is all business, matter-of-fact and unflinching in his appraisal of the situation and his assessment of an appropriate counter-measure.

Obi looks at Makiri. The fuck is Cyberdyne Systems? Makiri, despite it being his suggestion, whatever it is, looks uneasy at the thought. The conviction of his words no longer syncs with his facial expression so whatever it is must not be good news or an entirely safe plan. A sobering concept. Makiri is never anything but sure of himself.

“Do it. Get me the paperwork and you’ll have my signature the moment it lands on my desk,” Izana responds with a calm intensity that sends tendrils of dread shooting up his spine. He’s a master of revealing nothing. He would have made a good spy, had he not been born to rule a kingdom.

With a sharp nod, Makiri turns to leave and Obi seizes the opportunity to elbow Mitsuhide. “Cyberdyne Systems?”

Mitsuhide sighs, inaudible but obvious by the way his shoulders sag with the exhale. Sir always has been one for formality and decorum. Whispered concerns are not something that makes him happy during an already bad meeting on an already crap day.

“Obi. Mitsuhide. Hisame.”

“Your majesty,” they respond in practised unison acknowledgement of the highest commander of the Clarines military.

“You three will be the first to undergo the transformation under Cyberdyne’s medical staff. You are exemplary fighters and are the best suited for the transition. Report to the Cyberdyne Systems base in Oriold in two days. That will give you time to say any goodbyes you may feel necessary”

With that, Izana leaves the meeting room. No one in the room needs any other direction. The war council is adjourned and it is time to make their respective plans.

“What do you think he means by ‘transformation’ and ‘say goodbyes?’”

“I don’t know, Obi. But I’m going to go see Kiki and I suggest you go back to Lilias. Spend time with Shirayuki and Ryuu.”

----------

When Obi walks into their apartment late in the evening, he looks bones-deep exhausted. The weight of the world bowing his shoulders and hunching his back more than usual. He leaves his to-go box from lunch uneaten. Ryuu pulls himself out of his book, he notices the tension and excuses himself for bed. Shirayuki can’t quash the feeling that something is happening. Something she doesn’t know. Something big and likely awful.

When she stands in front of him, looking at him with pleading eyes- begging him to talk to her- he reaches out to hug her. He pulls her so close. Holds her so tight. And she knows. She knows. Their lives are about to change forever and nothing can stop it.

When he lets go, he pulls out his work-issued comm tablet and opens up his email. “I’m not supposed to show you this,” he says, as distant as the palm trees of Yuris when he hands her his tablet without looking at her.

“You will report to Cyberdyne Systems. Come fully hydrated. Drink no less than one gallon of water the day before your arrival. The medical staff will perform some preliminary bloodwork and a urine sample will be required. At which time you will be moved to surgery for implantations and modifications. After you recover, you will be paired with your handler, a person going through training to work with you in battle strategy as well as serve as your own specialized mechanic.

Makiri Arleon”

Obi sighs. “I have two days to say my goodbyes and report for duty.”

“What do they mean ‘handler’ and ‘implantations and modifications?’” She can’t believe what she is reading. This sounds suspiciously like mechanizing real people, a concept that had been rumored to be experimented with but has thus far been chalked up to nothing more than the newest wave of lingering conspiracy theories.

“This is how I lose my humanity, Miss,” he says with the saddest smile she’s ever seen and her heart shatters for him. “I’ve been one of the three men selected to be in the first round of cyber fighters to protect everyone from the aliens.”

She doesn’t know how to react at first. She feels as lost as he looks. But he needs her right now and he needs her as strong and ‘normal’ as ever though this is anything but. She settles with something safe. “Let’s get some sleep, if we can. We can wake up early tomorrow and take Ryuu on a hiking trip. He’d like that.”

“Yeah.” He gives her shoulder the slightest of squeezes as he walks into the bathroom.

When she hears the shower turn on, she seizes her opportunity and grabs her cell phone. She punches in a phone number that is way more familiar than she would ever like it to be. When the line connects and before he can say anything, she says, “I want to be his handler.”

The chuckle that fills the space is one of genuine amusement which is surprising but she won’t complain about it. She’ll take what she can get out of him, though nothing with him ever comes without it’s own price. Cost doesn’t matter this time. Whatever demands he makes, she’ll pull through on it.

“The handlers are in charge of keeping the mechas healthy and working with them on strategy, correct?” She will press him. She’s earned enough of his respect to throw some of her weight around. He knows damn good and well how useful she is and how reliably she can be that useful.

“You read the whole email,” he states. No question, just facts, and oh so very, very irritatingly Izana. But he confirms what she read anyway. “That is correct, yes,”

“Then let me be his.” She leaves no room for argument. She will fight him on this. It’s them or neither and she will make sure of it. Tanbarun would hide them without hesitation and all it would take is a call to Prince Raj.

“You know I could have him court martialed and jailed for feeding you classified information, right?” She doesn’t miss the gravity in his words.

She laughs, bitter and hollow. He could, in theory. But Obi is the best fighter Izana has in his arsenal and she is the best medic that doesn’t have other obligations preventing them from signing on. Whether he likes it or not, she is the best equipped to be Obi’s handler. “We both know you won’t do that.”

[datawyrms]

Weathering the Storm

Dannymay2020 day 23: Lightning (AO3)

It was odd to see Danny so clearly aggravated when not in class, shoulders hunched and arms crossed as if the world has personally offended him this morning. “I mean it, when I find Johnny I’m shoving his Shadow down his throat for this.”

“It’s just bad luck Danny, it can’t be that much trouble,” Tucker didn’t seem all that concerned about his mood, and it stuck the teacher as rather odd. The Fenton boy was a chronic work dodger and consistently late, but threatening people by name was new. He had dismissed the boy’s brush with destructive tendencies as a one off thing as the behaviour had not continued, but perhaps he had been too hasty. Even if the threat was ultimately nonsensical, the vehemence had sounded quite real.

The boy scowled at his friend, “I got struck by lig-” he broke off mid sentence as his eyes caught sight of Mr. Lancer. Was he afraid that his teacher was overhearing him? He had dropped his arms and somehow slouched more, doing his best to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. Had he done something to cause such fear in his student? He could think of a few incidents that would make the boy dislike him, certainly, but not fear him.

“Hi Mr. Lancer!” Tucker showed no such hesitation, moving as if to block his blue eyed friend from his sightline. “The report isn’t due until next Monday, right?”

“That’s correct Mr. Foley. If you have it completed by Friday I’d be happy to suggest improvements you could make over the weekend,” he answered, not that the boy would do that. He’d extended the offer several times, and the little trio didn’t seem all that interested in actually using it.

“Thanks, just had to check!”

Tucker had been acting as a distraction almost, seeing as Sam and Danny had slunk away as he’d taken up most of Mr. Lancer’s attention. It was odd. Did they really think they had to go to such lengths? Danny’s words had been a little concerning, but not something to think he’d be punished over. He would simply need to keep an eye on them today, if he was unintentionally causing fear he had a duty to correct that. The boy had enough trouble learning as it was.

Mr. Fenton was incredibly jumpy. Usually he’d slump at his desk to the point one could argue the lad did not even possess a spine. Today he seemed almost hyper alert, eyes darting and fingers constantly fiddling with a pencil or paper as the heavy rain battered against the windows. Yet whatever he was on such high alert for, it wasn’t what they were discussing, his answers just as lost and confused as they were when he was half asleep. He was starting to worry it was indeed his presence getting the child so distressed until a booming crack of thunder followed by a blinding flash of lightning from the storm outside painted a very different picture.

He’d practically slammed his head into his desk, hands over his head while looking as stiff as a board. Even when the moment passed the black haired boy was slow to uncurl, only doing so fully after getting some sort of affirmative nod from Tucker or Sam.

When had he gotten such a strong fear of thunderstorms? The last time such a storm had come to Amity Park he had been perfectly fine. Or at least, had not reacted this strongly. If he was struggling to focus because of the storm, he had to do something to help.

“Mr. Fenton, a word please?” he said as Danny attempted to slide out the door at the end of class.

“Yes?” his teeth were gritted, the rest of his body language still reading as terribly stiff, almost like an over-tightened string.

He waited a moment before responding, not wanting to embarrass him by having other students overhear the question. “Is it the sound or the light that bothers you?” Danny wasn’t one to answer questions at the best of times, so being direct was an unfortunate consequence.

“The-what?” His brow furrowed, fingers clenching around the backpack more tightly. He did seem genuinely confused, but it could just be his teenaged pride not wanting to admit he had a phobia.

“I do not wish to embarrass you Mr. Fenton, but your reactions to the thunderstorm outside have been rather noticeable,” the boy squirmed a little on the spot, eyes darting at the door as if wondering if he could make a run for it, “Would studying in a room without windows help with that?”

“I’m not afraid of thunderstorms.” he looked away, hand clutching at his shoulder. The rolling rumble of thunder warning that another bolt was coming made the boy visibly flinch, turning and darting out of the room without being dismissed.

He couldn’t force him to take offered help, but couldn’t understand who Danny thought he was fooling. People who were safely indoors did not usually run from thunderclaps. If he thought his friends would be more forthcoming he would consult with them, but they had proven to be just as stubborn. Still, there was plenty of school day left. The boy might change his mind.

-

“Why does he have to pay attention to me today of all days?” The half ghost moaned, face buried in his palms, lunch untouched.

“I told you not to break his motorcycle.”

“I’m going to shove it in a thermos and bury it next time,” his eyes flared a brilliant green, a helpful elbow from Tucker making him cover his face again.

“Is the bad luck making the flare ups worse?” Sam frowned at the muffled green light, eyes watching the rest of the noisy cafeteria. 

“Sorta?” Danny managed to look up, returning to rubbing at his shoulder. “I got hit by lightning on the way here.”

Tucker winced in sympathy. “Owch.”

“Three times.”

“I’d wonder how you survived that but this is you we’re talking about.” Sam still looked concerned, fiddling with a wristband.

“My ectoplasm just loves it apparently. I don’t think I’ve been this wide awake in months,” he returned to bouncing his leg up and down, as if unable to keep still.

“You gonna eat that?”

He shook his head. “I’m not even close to hungry, go nuts.”

Tucker helped himself to the untouched meal “You feeling okay though? That still had to hurt.”

“Other than feeling like I’ve been chugging coffee all day, yeah.”

“Which is why you keep rubbing at your shoulder. Because you feel fine.” Sam scowled as the half ghost looked at the ceiling.

“I do, really. I can just. Feel the lightning coming and it throbs a bit. It’s more annoying than anything.”

“Creepy. The scars start showing up again?” Tucker leaned closer, eyes narrowing at his friend’s neck.

Danny snorted, batting his friend away. “They’re not green at least. Yet.”

“Maybe you should just put the sweater on now then? Unless you want someone to notice you have scars on your arms that weren’t there this morning.”

“It’s so hot in that thing! It’s in my backpack, don’t worry about it.” he stopped mid shrug, wincing seconds before a flash of lighting.

“Hair.”

The now white haired boy ducked down, muttering crossly as he fumbled with his bag.

“Good thing no one pays attention to the loser squad.” Tucker managed to keep back a laugh by confirming absolutely no one had noticed his friend's sudden dye job.

“No kidding.” Danny groused, reappearing with sweater in hand, hair back to it’s natural black. “If this keeps up I’m going to start falling through things again.”

Sam bit her lip. “Maybe you should just skip?”

“And go where? Outside and get struck some more? No thanks. With my luck I’d get mode locked or something.”

“You could just stay invisible.”

The hybrid considered it, but shook his head. “If I’m stuck here I might as well get credit for it.”

“Well if you start glowing, I don’t have any idea why,” Sam warned, earning a small chuckle from the both of them.

-

Danny’s anxious behaviour only seemed to intensify throughout the day. He stuck close to his two friends as usual, but was never completely still, always moving or jiggling, eyes always darting around as if he had to stay alert from an unknown threat. Just watching him was exhausting. For someone who insisted he was not frightened, he was grabbing on to Sam or Tucker with surprising regularity. The two of them didn’t seem to mind, almost as if they were used to this sort of thing. Strange. By the end of the day the boy was bundled up in some oversized sweater, which only made him look even more pale and stressed out. Perhaps he could suggest private study time for days like this to Jazz, he might listen to his elder sister.

Well, he probably wouldn’t, but not doing anything was giving him that terrible twisting guilt gut that did not care if he couldn’t force help upon people who refused it. He would suggest it tomorrow if this behaviour continued. The final bell was practically a blessing, the school quieting as teacher and student alike filed out into the dreadful weather, colourful umbrellas giving a small reprieve from all the grey. Usually he had to stay longer because of a detention, but the lousy weather seemed to curb any desire to skip out on class. Small blessings. With a folder snugly underarm and umbrella in hand he headed towards the exit closest to his car and froze.

Danny was still here? He could barely make the boy stay in class when it was in session, and here he was lurking near the exit like some sort of frightened cat.

“Mr. Fenton?”

The boy lept in surprise, back slamming against the wall as if he had to escape quickly. Yet he didn’t seem to be holding anything to cause trouble with. Just himself, the beat up backpack, and the sweater he was doing his best to melt into. “Mr. Lancer?” his voice was almost a squeak.

“Are you sure you’re alright? I notice you don’t have an umbrella.” Perhaps sticking to facts and not suggesting the boy was scared could convince him to take some help this time. He practically looked to be on the verge of a panic attack.

“Oh! Yeah! Forgot it, I’m fine.” he sputtered, but the speed of his breathing slowed. He’d been that startled?

“I have a spare if you need it. Do you plan to walk home?”

The pale boy squirmed under his gaze, eyes darting behind him occasionally. “I’m fine. Jazz can give me a ride.”

The teacher looked out the window and frowned. “I don’t see her car Mr. Fenton. Did you forget to ask her to wait?”

He swallowed, apparently not expecting to be caught in his lie. “Must have. It’s okay, she’ll come back.”

Lancer crossed his arms, trying not to sigh. Why did teenagers insist on being so bullheaded? “There’s no reason to force her to come back. I’ll give you a lift.”

Danny looked as if he’d offered to chop his head off rather than provide a dry way home. “No it’s okay! Thanks though. I’m good.”

“Are you too afraid to go outside right now?” The question was blunt, but it was only the two of them, and he wasn’t going to leave a terrified boy alone in a darkened school because he said he was ‘okay’.

“I’m not afraid!” he insisted, grabbing at his shoulder yet again. A tell to his lies? “Really, I’m fine and she’s already coming.”

“Then I suppose I’ll wait with you until she arrives.”

His wince was expected. “Y-you don’t need to do that.”

“Oh but I do Mr. Fenton. I will not leave a student unattended after hours, making sure you leave safely is in my job description.” That, and keeping him from causing trouble in the school unobserved was also part of the job.

“Could you like. Not do your job then? Please?” he slumped at Lancer’s significant stare. “Didn’t think so.”

“Do you plan to wait until the storm passes? It could go on all night Mr. Fenton.” To be so afraid as to not even walk to where a car would be waiting was incredibly severe, and it wasn’t sitting quite right with him. He almost seemed more afraid of being observed than anything. Did his parents discourage showing any kind of fear? No, everyone knew the boy was afraid of ghosts, so it didn’t add up.

“No. I’m just waiting for you to mind your own business.” he muttered into his sweater, arms crossed in his own little act of defiance. 

“Unfortunately for you, your well being is my business while you’re here.”

“Unless Dash is involved, then I’m invisible.”

He could have sworn the boy’s eyes changed for a moment there, amplifying the bitterness in the child’s tone. “I was under the impression he had stopped, as you haven’t brought it up since.”

That got a laugh, though his eyes remained icy. “Nope.”

Too many students and not enough eyes. He couldn’t know everything, though it would explain why he wouldn’t be more open, if he was under the impression he would be ignored. “You can tell me about it now, and I can look into it.”

“No thanks.” he rubbed at the same shoulder, brow creased in what looked to be pain.

Always rejecting help. Well, he’d at least make sure he wasn’t alone until he chose to leave.

It was a good thing he had, too. The latest flash of lighting prompted a grunt from the teenager, who appeared to have tripped over his own feet. So badly that he couldn’t even see the foot that must have twisted, he might have broken something. He managed to catch him before he hit the floor, wondering how the boy felt so cold even when bundled up in the sweater. “‘The Metamorphosis’ Mr Fenton, are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” he squirmed out of his teacher’s outstretched arms, standing easily on a foot he could have sworn must have twisted too far to be uninjured. “I just tripped, sheesh!”

Yet in his speed to be on his own to feet the sweater had shifted, granting Lancer a glimpse of his arms. Angry green scars that seemed to glow with their own light made the boy’s fear of lightning suddenly very understandable.

After all, they knew there had been an accident, but not what it had entailed.

“You were electrocuted, Mr Fenton?”

The boy gulped, hastily hiding the scars as if it was some sort of dirty secret. “I’m fine, really.”

“You don’t have to be fine. ‘Great Expectations’ Danny, it is perfectly understandable to be frightened if you had a serious accident involving electricity.”

The boy blinked at him. “What. You-you’re not weirded out?”

Was he embarrassed because the scars were green? Honestly, teenagers. “I assume whatever accident you were in involved your family’s inventions. Considering I see ghosts every other day, ghostly electricity scars seem almost quaint, Mr Fenton.” Sure, he did question how it had happened, and had some serious concerns about his family’s safety practices, but it was more important to let him know he would not judge him over this little affliction. “I suppose they only show up in weather like this?”

“Mmhm. It’s no big deal, really.”

No big deal he says, while acting like a jackrabbit all day. “It does make your hesitation to go out with lightning striking understandable. However, it would be better if we could get you home. Would bringing the car closer help?”

The boy groaned again, rubbing at his forehead. “Sure. I guess.”

“I’ll be right back then.”

Which he was, pulling the car right to the curb was easy enough. Yet Danny had up and vanished. He probably should have expected that, the boy was incredibly slippery when he wanted to be. He hadn’t spotted him leaving, yet he could spot muddy footprints being washed away by the unyielding rain. Where had he snuck off to? Further pondering was lost to the sound of someone yelling in pain, and it felt uncomfortably familiar. The voice’s owner couldn’t be far, so he gripped his umbrella tight and went to check it out.

“Four times? Whoever said lighting doesn’t strike twice is a dirty liar, and I hate them.” Phantom was muttering furiously at the ground, sparks cracking around his white aura. “Stupid Shadow.”

Well, the ghost was a teenager. At least he seemed to be more annoyed than seriously hurt, the scream had been rather unpleasant. Probably best to leave the ghost alone. He seemed nice enough, but the constant warning from the Fentons did make one a bit wary. If his help was just an act, being alone with him was probably not the safest thing in the world. Yet as the ghost took flight something about him struck him as oddly familiar. Had there been glowing green scars on the ghost’s neck? No, the ghost was always glowing, and the idea was absurd. He must have been mistaken.

[just-one-random-rat]

Something I wrote for our favourite cat lover. Happy Birthday Satan!

Miracle

„I’m a curse.“

Satan’s voice was hushed, his face pressed against the soft skin which stretched over your collar bone. You blinked, trying to push his body away from yours to take a better look at his face, but his grip on you was strong and he didn’t budge. Instead, he just buried his face deeper in your chest, trying desperately to escape from whatever thoughts were plaguing him. Today, on all days. On his own birthday.

„Why would you think that?“

Your voice was just as soft as you brushed your fingers through strands of golden hair, the soft texture tickling your fingertips and the scent of his shampoo filling our nose. You tried to take a look at your lover’s face once again, but he still refused to move even an inch away from your comforting presence. His breathing echoed loudly in the otherwise silent room, the light already dimmed and curtains pulled shut, everything prepared for a good night’s rest. But you boyfriend couldn’t even think of sleeping. Not when his thoughts crashed and coursed through his mind like a wave, ripping every ounce of the tranquility he usually felt when he was with you into deep, dark depths. How did he even deserve somebody as loving and caring as you? Suddenly, he wasn’t sure.

As the storm flooded his mind further the first drops of tears escaped emerald eyes, twinkling like tiny specs of the starry sky hiding behind the closed curtains as they ran down his face to soak into the fabric of your nightshirt. A choked up sob escaped his mouth and he cursed himself for showing you this weak, unsightly side of him. Only your voice ripped him out of the masses of water in which he threatened to drown.

„Satan, talk to me. Why would you think that?“ Your voice was soft and warm, like the beams of sunlight which graced his face when he had time to visit the human realm. It was a stark contrast to the icy cold of the water, grounding him and giving him the opportunity to take a deep breath.

With a shuddering intake of air, he hoisted himself up onto his arms, tearful gaze shying away from your eyes. How could he? How could he look into your eyes when he was a being made out of wrath, all consuming and burning every inch of logical thought as soon as his rage came to light? How could he, burning alive and raging in fire, how could he be drowning at the same time, shivering and shaking when the flames in his heart should be keeping him warm? He didn’t know. Thousands of years of knowledge, of experience, and yet he couldn’t fathom how he was able to be with you, when he was only tainting the shining and shimmering light you were. And how could he be sure that you really loved him?

His answer came in the form of your hands cradling his face, fingers brushing over cheeks to wipe away the teardrops caught in golden lashes and small streams on his skin. The loving look in your eyes was too genuine to ever be fake, the small cease in your eyebrows and the pursing of your lips told a story of their own. Even if his fears weighed him down like stones bound to his feet, he knew deep down that he could trust you. That you, with your angelic voice and laughter that made his heart skip a beat, you with eyes which seemed to hold his entire universe would not leave him because of what he was.

And with a heart-wrenching wail, he broke. He shattered into shambles right into your lap, trusting you to pick him up and put him back together. Trusting you to look at him and see him, the real him, not just the facade of the avatar of wrath which everybody knew. He was laying himself bare in front of you, stripped of all layers of protection. Horns breaking out of skin and tail trashing around behind him, because he couldn’t comprehend the raw truth of the thoughts he was about to share with you.

„Just look at me!“, he demanded, voice breaking and hands pulling on his own hair in desperation. „I am nothing but my sin! I feel like I am not even a person, nothing but a manifestation of Lucifer’s hate towards his father. What am I if not a punishment from god? A reminder to Lucifer that his own wrath which was his downfall was so powerful that he couldn’t contain it in his own body? What am I if not a curse? I should be thankful that they even kept me around, let alone took care of me, if they could have very well just thrown me out as an infant like the wicked creature as which I was born? How can a curse like me love somebody like you?!“

His voice cracked and got quieter as he rambled, ebbing down to a whisper as he ushered the last words. And although the waves crashing in his head seemed to have stopped, the silence which followed his speech was just as deafening as the bottom of the ocean, taking his breath away and crushing his body under tons of pressure. His head was spinning and he could hear his own blood rushing through his body, his heart beating way too fast and way too slow at the same time. He felt like there was water in his lungs and he coughed, sitting up to cover his moth with one hand. Eyes pressed shut, he didn’t want to look at you, afraid that he would see rejection. That you would laugh at him.

But then, just when he felt like drowning all over again, your voice reached his ears. Like a ray of light. Like home.

„I don’t think that you are a curse.“

Careful fingers reached out and pried his hands off his face with almost no resistance from his side. Fleeting touches grazed over the clammy skin of his face and a gust of your breath seemed to cool down his skin even more until you pressed one kiss onto each of his closed eyelids, his forehead, his nose. Your arms reached around him and pulled him towards you and he fell into you like his brothers once plummeted down from heaven. Your warmth embraced him as you cradled his head against your chest like a babe, giving im the security he was searching for so desperately.

„Think about it.“ Your murmur reached his ears while your brushed through his hair again, detangling the knots he had managed to fabricate by ruffling through it earlier. Your fingers bumped against the base of his horns and a shiver wrecked his body, prompting him to press himself even closer to you. His tail curled around your forms, pressed together so tightly as if you wanted to become one.

„I think that you are more of a miracle, you know. A sign that even such horrible things like the fall of your brothers can be an opportunity for something new. You were a newborn child, the symbol of new beginning. Innocence. You gave your brothers something which they could protect. Something they could focus on instead of being consumed by their fear, their grief, their sins.“

Your hands had stopped brushing through his hair and now presumed to glide over his horns, over the bumps and rides as you stared off into space. You didn’t notice that Satan had opened his eyes and was looking at you in awe, that he had stopped tearing into his lips with sharp teeth, that his tail was laying still next to you, entirely hypnotized by your words. You didn’t notice that the constant stream of tears had stopped as you continued musing.

„I think that you saved them, in some way. Especially Lucifer. He had just lost his sister, and while he wasn’t very fond of the way you came to be, this doesn’t translate to you as a person. He dislikes the reason you were born, not you. You didn’t have a choice. He knows that.“

Your eyes met his again and with a bashful smile, a quiet chuckle escaped you as you looked at your lover in adoration. „Does that even make sense?“

„It does.“ Satan’s voice was nothing above a whisper, you had to strain your ears to even understand it, but you did. Forest green orbs looked up at you in pure awe, filled to the brim with emotions which he didn’t know how to express. But he knew that he didn’t have to. You would understand him anyways.

And with a jolt, he pushed himself up and let his lips crash against yours with burning passion. He almost moaned at the feeling of your soft skin against his, opening his mouth and seemingly wanting to devour you whole. To show you how thankful he was, to express what he couldn’t explain in words. How much he loved you.

The both of you only separated when the lack of air became too much, gasping for breath but still refusing to let go of each other. With a sigh, he brushed his nose against yours, eyes halfway closed and breathing still labored.

„We loved with a love that was more than love“, he whispered against your lips as he dove in to kiss you again and you chuckled. Of course he had to recite some sort of poem about love. This was Satan, after all. But he couldn’t focus on the sound of your laughter, clear and bell-like as always. All he could focus on was the warmth that spread through his body as his lips met yours, a dazed look in his eyes and a small flame spreading in his body.

Oh, how he loved you. How much he owed you. He felt like he could never express these feelings, even if the stars fell down and the sun stopped shining because time was coming to an end. With you, every second felt like eternity, and he never wanted it to stop. He never wanted to drown again and he knew that even in a few years, even on his birthday,- a day he had dreaded beyond all imagination because of what it reminded him of - that even then, you would be there to pull him out if the ocean.

„You are my miracle.“ Your hushed tone prompted one last tear to drip down his cheeks, and you reached up to kiss it away. He smiled at you, teary-eyed and thankful beyond words, and you looked at him like he was your whole world.

„Thank you, my love.“ His voiced was strained from crying and yelling, but he knew that you wouldn’t mind. That you would accept him no matter what. Exhaustion had settled into his limbs and without saying a thing you pulled him down against your warm body, grabbing the soft blanket and spreading it over the both of you. Satan settled down with his nose pressed against your neck, arms wrapped around your body and your scent comforting him. He shivered as your hand drew small circles onto his back and his eyes fluttered shut with a soft sigh, gliding into peaceful slumber for the first time ever on his own birthday. Because he knew you were there. Because he knew that you loved him dearly.

Because to him, you were a miracle on your own.

[sanghyukstattoos]

Along the way

Characters: Kim Seokwoo I Rowoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst 

Words:1789

Summary: At a house party or a so-called dreaded 'family gathering', you detest the situation, how you feel and everything. That is until Seokwoo picks you up and is there for you all the way home.

A/N: Pictures from DailyRowoon 

Thank you to the anon who requested this! When I was writing this, I slipped into a little daze and I was at my best writing this so I do hope that you love it! Personally, when things get hard for me, I am that person who plans it all out in her head. I’ll speak myself through it including why I have been feeling or why I feel in a particular way and how to solve the problem so a little bit of that is incorporated into this fic!

You were at your family’s house, sitting on the sofa and holding your breath, waiting for the right time to jump into the conversation. They were feuding about something and while no one was screaming, you could feel how tense the room was. 

They make a big deal about everything, you thought but stayed quiet. Nothing good would come from you pointing out their obvious mistakes. It was right there and you felt a sudden surge of anger. You didn’t know where it came from either- there were so any sources.

You didn’t know how riled up you were getting but you did know not to get angry because apparently, that came to you pretty easily. Just because someone told you to control yourself didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. 

Your felt the dull ache in your temple become something more as your family snapped their heads in your direction when you spoke while nodding your head in the direction , ‘’It’s right there’’.

There was a small hum floating from your family members as they considered what you were saying but then it all went to shit. To them, it was something else but it mattered to you- wasn’t what you wanted also important?

The room grew more hot as they dismissed your statement, some feeling annoyed while others gave you small, pitiful smiles as they all went back to what they were doing. 

You stayed quiet and laid low for the next few minutes, contemplating how you spoke just a few moments ago. You wavered when you spoke, especially towards the end. 

Maybe it was obvious, that’s why they gave you those smiles. You looked around to see everyone smiling, automatically nodding and giving a bright smile to a family member who raised their eyebrows at you, presumably in concern.

They just picked whatever they wanted, dismissing the rest as, ‘’it’s okay, how important could it be?’’. Knowing that somewhere in the future you wouldn’t be here made you cautious but for now you were stuck in this place.

Forced to endure this because it was social of you to do so, you couldn’t possibly have a problem with your family- after all, they were your family. Your family member next to you, turned to you saying, ‘’Why do they sound like that when they fight?’’ making you look over and laugh as well.

You felt guilty for laughing for none of it showed on your face, laughing along with the person beside you. Not even a couple of seconds had passed till they spoke up, pointing in the direction mentioned while saying, ‘’See? It’s right there’’

From there on, recognition pandered onto their faces and you slumped, recognising that you should have just pointed it look like your family member. Some faces looked at you too and you nodded saying, ‘’I said that!’’

‘‘We know..’‘, ‘‘Something about the way you explained...’‘ was all that you heard before you heard the sound of your phone buzzing. Your head was spinning and there wasn’t much room to breathe but you couldn’t have been more happy that it was Ro on the other end. 

Standing up, you ignored the looks you got from your family members and headed to the exit to take the call. ‘’Hey, you doing okay?’’ was the very first thing you heard and you genuinely smiled, replying, ‘’Hey, I’m doing good’’.

‘‘What time do you want me to pick you up?’‘ Seokwoo asked, having just finished work. 

‘‘Uh’‘ you started out, searching the area for any of your family members to hide what you were going to say next. Your eyes didn’t leave the direction that you were looking towards as you hurriedly whispered, ‘‘A little earlier than planned’‘

Fearing that he would ask for the time, you calmed down when he asked, ‘’8:30?’’. Leaning away to check the time on your phone, you shook your head in disagreement as you responded with, ‘’no’’.

‘‘7:45?’‘ he asked, this time hitting the mark. You agreed, exclaiming, ‘‘yes!’‘ and he agreed as well. In the background, you could hear the car starting as he came to pick you up. 

There wasn’t exactly an end to family gatherings, they all just left when everyone agreed to leave. It also wasn’t easy to shove so many people out of the door and knowing that they had the opportunity, they would all stay till midnight. 

You felt victorious yet juvenile as you walked back to the living room to tell your parents the good news. Looking at your family member, you envied how she was able to thrive in such a harsh environment. 

Now, all that was remaining was for you to break it to them and that mattered. How you broke the news to them was important. Pulling your other family member close to you, the concern on her face almost broke you in two.

‘‘I have to go since we are both busy tomorrow’’ you said pouting, carefully watching how she reacted. She hummed before asking, ‘‘Is Seokwoo coming to pick you up?’‘ to which you slightly nodded to replying, ‘‘In 15 minutes’‘. 

You kept yourself from smiling out and after spilling it to your other family members, you would have wished to see the spoils of joy on their faces but instead got into Seokwoo’s car. 

This time your entrance was different and a whole lot better. It felt good to be back as you gave him a quick peck on his cheek. You reflected his wide smile, leaning your head on the headrest.

"How was it?" he asked, inquisitive but careful at the same time knowing that your family had a given history of making you feel like an outsider whenever they all came around. You hummed, dismissing the answer and instead looking at him and shrugging your shoulders, clearly exhausted.

"Don't stress about it a lot" he cautioned, hand on the steering wheel while one slipped into yours, wanting to be close to you in your time of pure distress. Gripping his hand tighter, you replied, "It's tiring, but I can make it" nodding as you said the latter, hoping to convince yourself that you could hold on.

It all sounded like fireworks to you but a part of you hoped that Seokwoo bought it because he was worried. You were an adult and if anything, they were people out there going through worse. It was a reminder that you didn't have to worry about something so small.

Whatever you thought to try and show that it wasn’t that big of a deal, there were always your own original thoughts at the back of your mind, trying to breach the surface. You had spoken to your family about how you felt, delivering in soft blows rather than directly and their response dismissed how you felt.

They had managed to convince you that the problem was now over, now that you had spoken to them but you felt as if no real change occurred. Truth to be told, you didn't have a proper explanation for this or anything like it but you did try your best.

Then again, what counted as a proper explanation?

"Hey" Seokwoo softly spoke, looking over at you in concern to see that you were looking out of the window with a look of despair on your face. It was at times like these that your real emotions would pour through, at times when you were stressed but tried to control how you truly felt.

You gave him a small smile and looked away, blinking the tears back. You felt hypervigilant now, also noticing how tightly you were gripping his hand. And then you felt grateful realising that he knew but gave you your space anyways.

You could show someone an example of what feeling like an outsider felt like in your family but individually, the single events did not count. On the other hand, a culmination or tyrannical combination of all these events made much more sense to your point.

They could point out how you were exaggerating the reality of the situation much like your family or at least how you thought they would react but Seokwoo and you knew the truth. Even before Seokwoo, you would live in your own mind, gradually moving away from the negativity.

Although the problem persisted, you once called into question your thoughts about yourself, the world and your future- the negative triad. It was simply a triad but you did know that you had negative thoughts regarding all three, making it your negative triad.

At present, you were content with yourself and the life you built that didn't involve a complete involvement of your family. Somehow, your problem with your family became your world and on a whole you were not angry at the world but you weren't angry at your family either. You couldn't change their actions and words towards you but you could change how you reacted towards them. As per the future, you didn't want to focus on that right now for your present work, relationship with Seokwoo and friends held so much more worth.

Taking a breath in, you released a shaky one, swallowing your tears and smiling. Hearing you, Seokwoo scrunched his nose in delight, happy that you were okay. You were also strong in every right for it made him plenty strong too. It was unfair to say that you shouldn't have felt terrible as others had bigger problems because you could acknowledge that fact but this was still your problem.

He didn't meet you like this and neither did you let this affect you in any way outside of your family home. Once it was over, you would be close to tears but it would hardly take you that same amount of time each time to pack your bags and move on.

Neither did he step in to defend you from your family because they were not your enemies. To them, they had the best intentions but drastically different ways of expressing it and Seokwoo supported you through it. You healed and went on to be your best self, knowing that you were surrounded by those that loved you because love came in different forms.

"I'm okay" you spoke, a lot more happier this time whilst looking at him. A smile slowly made its way to his face as he heard your words, rubbing circles onto your loosened grip on his hand. Resting on the headrest, you sighed in relief, all the stress and disbelief floating out of your system. Giving once last caring look at you, Seokwoo drove home where the two of you laid in each other’s arms, drifting off to blissful sleep.