#and then i get mad at myself and start imagining tearing my own limbs off. as one does (i hate this fucking body so much i wish i was dead)

[daz4i]

help me. i can't sleep

[sweethartlullaby]

i think i love you

word count: 340 genre: angst as always, imagine who you would like sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist

and she'll choke back on a laugh in the middle of her tears and say,

"you're right, i did miss you. i missed you even more than i realized. i tried to convince myself you were just another person who i needed to cut off of my life; a limb that i shouldn't need anymore. i don't hate you, and i'm not mad for what you did. i could never resent you for doing what you thought was best for you. i just don't understand how when i manage to get better on my own and i'm genuinely happier, you decide to pop back into my life. why is it when we are all happier on our own, the dreams start coming and you start appearing in my head again? you know what's fucked up? i don't look at you and see someone who broke me and left me to pick my own pieces up. i don't see the anger or the haze of alcohol that falls over my eyes when they meet yours. i don't see the times i chose to think of you in the empty school lab by myself when i could've laughed with my friends at jokes that didn't make sense. i see the man i would've laid my life for; the one that saved me from my own loneliness. i see the one that pulled me out of my dark hole and took me into his arms. the only words that ring in my head are just 'i love you' and there's nothing more terrifying than the feeling of falling back into something that ruined you. there's nothing worse than sitting with the sinking feeling of the fear of what's coming next; nothing scarier than choosing to give everything again. i could never hate you, but i just wanted you to understand what is it that broke me; that you broke me in ways no one else ever had. i missed you and i loved you and you...you just used it until i ran low."

a/n: i’m back for just a little while. i have an exam tomorrow (wish me luck ;-;). anyways, this was one of my older works when i used to write in wattpad! i don’t have anything new because it’s that busy time of the year TT. i hope everyone is well! i hope you enjoyed this one!

[tacticaldiary]

bakugo or deku reacting to fem reader saying “i hate you” or the other way around angst to fluff maybe ??

I Could Never Hate You

Pairing: Reader x Izuku Midoriya

Genre: Hurt/Comfort.

“I hate you!” He doesn’t he could never hate her. In that moment he realises how badly he’s screwed up. 

I can’t even imagine him snapping like this-

“Y/N, please stop.” Izuku runs a tired hand down his face as he sits down on his bed and goes to fix the bandages wrapped around his leg, his other arm bound in a cast.

“No! Izuku, you can’t keep doing this!” She exclaims, throwing her arms in the air, willing him to see things from her point of view. “You ignore my texts and calls and just disappear all day! You stood me up at the park, and I waiting for 3 hours!” She rants. “Then I find out you were in the hospital with broken limbs again, the third time this month and-”

“I said stop!” he raises his voice a little in irritation. He’s tired and hungry and in pain and all he want to do is go to sleep, but he can’t do anything when Y/N’s nagging him for something he can’t control. He had to become stronger. 

She’s taken aback for a second, because her boyfriend never raised his voice at her. Never. The fact that he’s just not listening to her concerns pisses her off. 

“I won’t! Do you know how worried I was?” She continues, ignoring his groan of protest. “You’re destroying yourself, Izuku, for no reason!”

“It’s not no reason!” he scowls...he scowls. “I need to be stronger, quicker-”

“No you don’t! Progress takes time, you don’t have to push yourself to the brink of collapsing every time to improve like an idiot!”

“You don’t understand.” 

“I don’t, I really don’t. For God’s sake, Izuku, seeing you in pain hurts-”

“It hurt you?” He laughs bitterly, and Y/N immediately never wants to hear that sound from him again. “It hurts you? I’m the one bearing this pain Y/N, I’m the one who knows how far I can push myself-”

“You clearly don’t since you’re-”

“God, just stop nagging me!” He exclaims, glaring at her. “You’re being annoying and I hate it when you do this, I hate you!” 

The words slip out from his sluggish mind before he can stop them and he immediately know he’s fucked up. The room goes silent and Y/N eyes grow wide as she processes his words. The atmosphere is suffocating and Izuku feels a wave of regret and guilt as she shakes her head and takes a step back, eyes already going glassy.

“Y/N...I-I didn’t. I’m-” he starts, voice back in check and that seems to snap her out of it. She turns around on heel and opens the door, ignoring his calls for her to wait.

She runs all the way to her room and shuts her door. Her Back hits the edge of her desk and she slides down, slapping a hand over her mouth as tears start to fall. He hated her. He did. Izuku didn’t lie, he never lied. 

She jumps as someone frantically knocks on her door. She hears Izuku’s voice pleading with her to open the door. She doesn’t move. A small sob escapes her and the knocking stops abruptly. 

Izuku hears the noise and he feels his heart break a little. He did that. He hurt her. She was crying because of him and god dammit, she was right. In a last attempt, he tries turning the doorknob and to his surprise, it opens. Before Y/N can stop him, he steels himself and pushes open the door, closing it behind him. It takes a second, but he finally spots her curled up against her desk.

He quickly makes his way to her crouching in front of her and gathers her up in his arms. Wincing as she struggles, he doesn’t let go and buries his face in her hair, muttering apologies over and over. 

It takes over 10 minutes for Y/N’s sobs to die down into small occasional sniffles.

His apologies never stop for a second. 

“You hate me. Why are you hugging me if you hate me?” she asks bitterly, but makes no move to get out of his hold.

“I don’t, I could never hate you, love.” She can feel him shaking, tears of his own now dried up.

“You said it.”

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean it-”

“Why’d you say it then?”

“I...” he struggles for a second. “I think I wanted to make you mad.” he whispers, ashamed. “You were trying to help me and I hurt you. I’m sorry...I’m so sorry.”

Y/N says nothing, but her grip on the front of his shirt tightens. She can see the top of one of his scars plastered on his freckled skin, peek over the neckline of his shirt and she frowns.

“It’s okay.” She says finally.

“It’s not. It’s not okay.” His arms tighten around her waist and he pressed himself further into her hair. “I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry.”

He keeps repeating it over and over and Y/N simply lets him, staying silent. She knows he needs to get the guilt out of his system. At some point she grabs one of his hands and gently traces his scars. 

Eventually, he takes a shuddering breath. “I’ll...try and be better.” He whispers.

She furrows her eyebrows and shifts, so she’s facing him, grabbing her face gently. “I don’t want you to be better.” She frowns, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“I want you to take care of yourself.” 

He nods tiredly, now thoroughly drained out from the day, physically and emotionally. “I’ll try. I’ll try, I promise.”

He lets her move them into a more comfortable position on the floor. She lays her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Izuku runs a hand through her hair soothingly, both of them silent and thinking. They would be okay.

Requests and Event Requests are Open! Send ‘em through!

(23/04/2021)

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 28

a/n : aha,,, ahaha,,,,, listen, i know this is a jimin au okay I KNOW -- but this chapter belongs to jung hoseok and thats that im sorry

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_______________________________

When Y/n finds Jimin down by the lake, she feels that every fiber of her being wants her to turn back, wants her to run and hide under her blankets -- as if she’s the one that needs protecting from him. He doesn’t see her until she’s a few feet away, approaching him from the shoreline. The smile he gives her when he turns is kind but reserved, like he’s preoccupied. She lets out an awkward laugh.

“Why did you want to meet down here in the middle of the night? Way to be weird, Jimin.” He rolls his eyes playfully, nudging her with his elbow before gesturing back toward the ground not far away, covered in grass instead of the sand here by the water. Y/n follows him there, taking a seat next to him with question marks in her eyes when he doesn’t answer her. He snickers at her confusion.

“You’re really stuck on this, huh? Maybe I just wanted to look at the stars with you.” Her features scrunch up cutely as she reacts to his admittedly cheesy one-liner, and he feels the tips of his ears go red. “Okay, I swear that sounded better in my head.” She grins before turning away, looking up at the sky in contemplation. Jimin thinks that maybe, in other circumstances, they really would have been able to sit here together in peaceful silence and watched the stars all night long. He hates that he has to ruin it.

“I actually… I have to talk to you.” She doesn’t pull her gaze from the sky, but he does notice that her expression has clouded over with something he can’t place. It looks a lot like resignation. Swallowing once and trying to shake out his nervous limbs as subtly as possible, he takes a single deep breath before turning his upper body to face her. She still won’t look at him.

“I know you’re probably going to hate my guts after this, and I completely deserve that because I’m selfish and stupid, and I’m too nosy for my own good, and I never should have pushed so much, but I--”

“I know.”

“Yeah, I know you know that I’m an idiot, and that I’m annoying, and that I ask too many questi--”

“Jimin, I know.” He stops then, and the look of pure confusion he gives her breaks her heart. She has no idea that the pained expression she’s giving him is breaking his. She can’t even keep her eyes on him when she continues. “I know that you know.”

Jimin jaw drops, and he gets the idea that he looks a bit like a dying fish, closing and opening his mouth as he tries to figure out how to continue. He hadn’t planned for this turn of events when he’d practiced the conversation in his head.

“You -- but how? Was I too obvious?” He sits up straight, terrified that his suspicious behavior had already gotten her into more danger. “Did I do something that risked your secret? What was it? Tell me so I can make sure never to do it again--” Y/n’s eyes shut as she sighs, and she quiets him with a shake of her head.

“Dumbledore told me, the day after you’d gone to see him. He wanted to warn me.” Jimin stares at the side of her head, processing that she’d known almost two weeks that he’d figured everything out, but she hadn’t confronted him about it. “I haven’t told the boys yet, but I’ve been freaking out about it. I wanted to talk to you right away, but… I decided to wait until you were ready to talk about it…” Her eyes flick to him, but at the sight of his gaze fixed completely on her, his attention fully hers, she looks away. “I was scared that you hated me. Even when you kept reaching out and talking to me, I felt like… maybe you hadn’t realized exactly what I am or what that means. I was waiting for you to leave me. Or expose me. I don’t know. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“I would never do that to you.” It falls out his mouth, feeling oddly like a confession when he says it without thinking and is immediately embarrassed. He clears his throat when she looks up at him with wide eyes, scratching awkwardly at his collarbone. “I needed time to process… not that you’re a werewolf, but that I had been such a fucking idiot the entire time. I should have listened to your friends and just let you be. I was nosy and selfish and objectively really annoying, and I hadn’t even realized that they were just trying to keep you safe by pushing me away. I’m really sorry, Y/n… for endangering you like that.”

He won’t look at her -- he can’t. But when a cold hand closes around his own, squeezing gently, he at least is able to look in her direction. She squeezes again, and, with as much courage as he’s ever had to gather at once, he lifts his eyes to meet her. She looks to be on the edge of tears, but she’s smiling at him, and it confuses him to no end.

“You’re not… mad? Because I completely understand if you are--”

“I’m not mad, Jimin. I’m kind of relieved that you know now, even if I am probably going to always be scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m a monster and run for your life.” He breathes out a laugh, knowing that she’s not joking. He just can’t imagine a version of himself, now or ever, that would look at her and see anything but the girl he’d been desperate to befriend all this time.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. I want to help you, if that’s okay. I want to do anything I can to help keep you safe.” It’s then that she pulls away from him, her expression turning apprehensive. Jimin takes one look at her and assumes it must be about her friends. “I know that Hoseok and Jungkook don’t like me, but I can talk to them if you want me to! I can explain myself and make sure they know that I’m just trying to help--” She shakes her head suddenly, cutting him off with a wave of her hands. She can already tell how her conversation with them later tonight will go, dreading having to ask them to meet so she can break the news.

“No, it’s not them… I’ll handle the boys -- it’s probably better that you aren’t there when they lose their minds, so I’ll talk to them. It’s just… things are more complicated than you think. It’s not really as simple as helping me… there are things you still don’t know, and it’s not my place to tell you…” Jimin thinks back to the way Dumbledore had called the situation ‘infinitely more complicated’ than he knew, and the way Y/n’s talking right now has him going out on a limb.

“Is this… about Remus Lupin?” Y/n meets his eyes with alarm, her breath catching audibly in her throat, and Jimin knows he’s right. “He’s… like you, right? His friends are involved, too.” She gapes at him, unsure how to respond.

“How…” He looks away, rubbing at his neck uncomfortably.

“Well, the night I figured things out -- it was a few days before the full moon, so your symptoms were a little more apparent at the time. I saw him in the Great Hall the next day, and he was looking just like you… and his friends, they act a lot like Jungkook and Hoseok sometimes… it wasn’t hard to put it together.” Y/n sits there in silence, not certain if Jimin is just really observant and was hyper-aware of everything because he’d just realized such a monumental secret, or if she needs to talk to the Marauders and her own friends about being less conspicuous. Probably both. She barely hears Jimin when he starts talking again.

“Is… that what’s keeping you from letting me help? I swear I won’t say anything -- I’ll even pretend I don’t know about him. I’ll do anything.” She watches him as he starts to devolve into what’s probably the third rant in the last half hour alone, and she knows he’s desperate to prove himself to her. He doesn’t need to -- he’d made his innocence and kindness clear to her long before he’d had any idea of her affliction. It’s everything about him, really, that’s causing her so much pain. She’s scared for him.

“Jimin… are you sure this is what you want? We’re in the middle of a war… and you’re a muggleborn. If anyone were to find me out, and they link us… I don’t know what would happen to you. Everything’s so delicate and dangerous, I don’t know if I can put you in that kind of danger.” This time it’s Jimin that reaches out for her, slipping his fingers through her own and linking their hands once he has her in his hold. He looks entirely level-headed when he looks her in the eye and responds.

“I’m with you, Y/n. I’m with you.”

--

Y/n stares up at the entrance to Slytherin common room, a deep frown set into her features. She’d made what she’d believed to be the right choice by not having Jungkook and Hoseok in the same room when she told them about Jimin -- they have a habit of enabling each other’s worst characteristics, and the last thing she wants to deal with is two enraged boys in the middle of the night. But now that she’s here, having just left a furious Jungkook in the room of requirement, she’s not looking forward to having this conversation again.

Jungkook had been surprisingly calm when she’d broken to him that Jimin had discovered her secret, but if there’s only one thing in the world that Y/n can say with complete confidence, it’s that she knows Jeon Jungkook. The look of complete ease that he’d given her had terrified her far beyond any explosion of anger. She almost prefers that he had reacted. It had taken her the better half of an hour to calm him down, only feeling comfortable texting Hoseok that she was on her way to him when she’d seen an emotion cross Jungkook’s eyes other than blank detachment. Even then, it was only annoyance at the fact that she refused to let him “talk” to Jimin on his own.

Now, it’s almost 3am, and Y/n’s only brushing away her tragic attempt at reasoning with Jungkook when the door to the Slytherin common room slides open, revealing a sleepy-eyed, bedhead-ridden Hoseok. He’s only half-dressed, clearly unable to be bothered to care about his appearance this late at night. He scratches at his bare collarbone with one finger while he squints at her, his blatant concern hidden slightly by how disgruntled he looks.

“Do you have any idea what time it is? Why would you do this to me?” Y/n snorts, knowing from experience how objectively rude Hoseok can be in the first few minutes of being awake. She hopes he stays bogged down by his sleep-deprived mind long enough that he doesn’t completely lose it when she talks to him. She glances past him into the common room before responding.

“Is there somewhere we can talk in private? I have something to tell you.” Immediately, the sleep is gone from Hoseok’s eyes, and Y/n mourns the hope that he wouldn’t be clear-minded during their conversation. He nods once, pointing over his shoulder.

“My room’s fine.”

“Isn’t Yoongi there?” Hoseok shakes his head, a slight smile gracing his features while he explains.

“He got a call from Kim Seokjin not that long ago -- something about a late-night snack run and how eating alone is ‘a lonely habit’.” He shrugs, and Y/n guesses that Yoongi must get dragged out against his will by Kim Seokjin quite often if Hoseok is unbothered by it. Hoseok points again in the direction of his bedroom, and Y/n only follows with a nod.

By the time they return to his room, Hoseok’s awake enough to be self-conscious, so he’s searching for a shirt immediately, gesturing for Y/n to close the door behind her. Then he flops down onto his bed, crossing his legs and patting the spot at the end of his mattress for her. When she decides to remain standing, running her fingers along the edge of his bedpost awkwardly, Hoseok squints, suspicious.

“What happened?” Y/n closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, looking Hoseok head-on and ripping the metaphorical band-aid off.

“Jimin knows about me. He just told me. Before you say anything, we talked about it, and--”

“That little shit--” Hoseok’s standing from his bed, fists balled up in rage as he heaves out an enraged breath. “When I get my hands on that nosy, obnoxious fucking twerp--”

“Hoseok, wait! Wait.” Y/n holds her hands out in front of her, planting them on his chest while she stares up at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay! It’s fine, we talked! He’s not going to say anything to anyone, even about the stuff with Remus--” She’ll admit that saying that last part probably wasn’t her best idea, considering how Hoseok reacts, blind with fury.

“What do you mean? What does that mean?!” He’s growing louder now, and Y/n knows she has to calm him down before he wakes the entirety of Slytherin house. Taking his face in her hands, she tries to force him to focus solely on her, but it only results in Hoseok gripping at her wrists, desperation clear in the way his hold is shaking. He’s looking at her with wild eyes, demanding an explanation for something so wholly unacceptable, but Y/n can’t give that to him while he’s like this.

“Hoseok, I need you to breathe, okay? I’m okay. I will be okay. But I need you to lower your voice and breathe. Don’t think about anything else.” This display -- a total loss of control -- is what she’d expected from Jungkook, but the boy who’d been beside her their entire lives must have known better than to show his ruthless side and risk upsetting her. In this moment, Hoseok, who’s always so keen on hiding himself behind a mask, is seeing red the way he never has before, and that’s what scares Y/n most.

“Eyes on me, Hobi, hm? Look at me -- I’m right here, and I’m okay. Look at me. See? I’m perfectly fine. Nothing’s gonna happen to me, I promise.” She’d somehow managed to bring him down from his erratic high, keeping his face close until she could see in his eyes that he’s looking only at her. His breath is ragged, and if she thinks she’s caught the slightest tremble of his bottom lip when he opens his mouth, he’s hiding it well. But what he whispers to her breaks her heart clean in half.

“You can’t promise me that. The more people that know about you, the harder it is for me to trick myself into believing you.” Taking a breath to stop herself from tearing up, she releases him slowly, stepping back when he only moves to sit back down on the edge of his bed.

“Hobi… you can’t do anything to Jimin, okay? You can’t confront him or do anything rash. I mean it.” It takes a few moments, but finally Hoseok is lifting his eyes to meet hers. He nods, and Y/n knows that’s all she’ll be able to get out of him. She wishes it was enough, that weak agreement, but if there’s one other thing in the world she can say with complete confidence, it’s that she doesn’t know Hoseok quite as well as she knows Jungkook.

--

Jimin’s on his way to class the next morning, lost in his thoughts about Y/n -- he can’t seem to focus on anything else these days -- when he’s unceremoniously dragged by the back of his robes into an empty classroom and shoved against the nearest wall. Hissing at the pain, he barely has time to slump over and catch his breath before he’s being pinned back against the cold stone by a pair of very determined hands.

He stills completely when he finally lifts his gaze and meets the eyes of Jung Hoseok. The Slytherin is visibly furious, his glare almost manic as he pushes Jimin’s shoulders back into the wall. He only lets up when an involuntary cry of pain escapes Jimin, but he never lets the boy go.

“Now, you’re going to listen to what I have to say, and you’re going to listen closely. Yeah?” Jimin isn’t sure it’s a question that needs answering, considering that he’s literally trapped, but the increased pressure of Hoseok’s knuckles on his chest has him nodding frantically. Hoseok doesn’t release him when he leans down into his face.

“For some ungodly reason, Y/n has decided that you can be trusted, and I’m sure you loved that she said she’d talk to us so you wouldn’t have to do it yourself, huh? But I think that you deserve to have the whole picture, Park -- look at me when I’m talking to you.” Jimin had shut his eyes simply from the proximity of Hoseok’s hateful glare, unable to handle it, but when the older boy shakes him roughly, he opens his eyes so wide that he’s terrified to even blink.

“This game you’re playing? Using your obvious little crush on Y/n as an excuse to pry into her business and put her in danger just because you like sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong? It needs to stop. Because you don’t know all the rules, Jimin. And you don’t get any do-overs.” Jimin can feel the grip on his shirt starting to tremble, and at first he thinks maybe Hoseok’s so enraged that he’s actually shaking, but the glint in his eye tells Jimin differently. It tells him that Hoseok is scared -- he’s terrified. The uncertainty of Jimin’s existence in Y/n’s life -- not knowing if this is going to end badly for them -- it’s scaring him, and Jimin gets the feeling that Hoseok’s someone who deals with fear by being angry. Taking a very big risk, he whispers out to the 7th year.

“I swear, I just want to hel--agh!” Squeezing his eyes shut when Hoseok lifts him away from the wall and promptly slams him back into it, he doesn’t finish his plea. He can feel Hoseok’s breath fanning angrily over his face, and he swears a low growl rumbles from deep within the Slytherin’s chest when he responds.

“Shut up! You don’t know what that even means. You don’t know how to help. All you’ve done is screw things up for us, so let me welcome you into our little group with a warning.” A hand clamps the sides of Jimin’s jaw, lifting his face and squeezing hard until Jimin opens his eyes to look at Hoseok.

“You get one chance, so if you even come close to screwing that up, Y/n is the last thing you’ll have to worry about. Clear?” Jimin nods again, the hand on his face making that incredibly difficult. Finally, Hoseok releases him and steps back, watching with unmasked annoyance as Jimin fixes his clothes and rubs at all the spots he’s sure will be bruised by morning. They stare at each other, Hoseok eventually rolling his eyes with a sigh.

“Y/n told me you want to help. She asked me to mentor you in potion-making. I only agreed to it because she’s very stubborn when she wants to be, and someone needs to take over her doses. I won’t go easy on you, so you better be ready for a summer of hell. I need to know she’ll be safe with you once I’m gone, and frankly, I don’t even trust you to boil a pot of fucking water, much less a dangerous, highly sensitive potion.” Jimin swallows hard but doesn’t comment on the blatant insult, only processing that Jung Hoseok has agreed to train him.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker to the door, and Jimin takes that as his cue that the conversation -- if that’s what this was -- is finished, so he wanders out of the room in a slight daze, Hoseok following closely. As if the universe is telling him that this moment can, in fact, get much worse, Jimin meets the eyes of one Jeon Jungkook as the Gryffindor happens to be passing on the way to class. Where Hoseok’s glare was unbridled fire and rage, Jungkook’s gaze is turning to pure ice, and Jimin can’t decide which is worse. Jungkook doesn’t even acknowledge him as he passes, breaking eye contact and going on his way as if Jimin doesn’t even exist. Hoseok chuckles darkly behind him.

“I almost feel bad for you, Jimin. If you think you have it bad with me, you’re in for a real treat with Jungkook.”

[thisissirius]

because 4x01 happened and i had feelings about it. the therapy stuff is taken directly from my own counselling sessions. i might not have gone through a tsunami and a truck bombing, but i’ve seen some shit lol. ANYWAY. i hope y’all like this. 

for @capseycartwright who always deserves the best buck content and quality sassy eddie <3

need help (but can you help me? [ao3 link] buck, buck/eddie, hurt/comfort, therapy

Eddie leaned against the doorjamb to his bathroom, arms folded across his chest. “I hear you’re cheating on me with a Covid crush?”

Buck snorted. “You’ve been talking to Chim.”

“More like had to listen to him,” Eddie corrected. He met Buck’s eyes through the mirror.

“You know I would never—”

“I know, Buck,” Eddie said quickly. He straightened up, came to stand next to Buck at the basin. Buck looked to the left, lips quirking up. Before he could say anything, Eddie leaned in, resting his head on Buck’s shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror again. “I trust you.”

Fingers curling around the edge of the basin, Buck sighed. “I should just tell them.”

Eddie kissed Buck’s neck. “You don’t owe anybody anything.”

Silence lapsed between them.

“When you’re ready to tell people, you will,” Eddie said, sliding a hand up Buck’s back, scratching through his hair and then pulled back. “Breakfast in half an hour. Chris is already up.”

“Fuck you,” Buck said with a laugh.

Eddie blew him a kiss and tapped the doorframe on his way out.

_________

Buck wasn’t keeping it a secret deliberately.

Quarantine was difficult. It wasn’t as bad for him as it was for a lot of people given that he was still able to work, but he hadn’t been alone since the quarantine had started. It had started to get too much for him to handle around the second month.

“I used to think I was lonely,” he said, leaning on his desk.

Lisa nodded, sitting back in her chair. “And now?”

“I havent been for a while,” he said. “But not because of quarantine. That’s just made me realize I love my workmates but living with them has been difficult.”

“You’re ready for them to go home.”

Buck huffed a short laugh. “Yeah, I am. Well. I’m sad Eddie’s gone, but I know why he had to.”

Lisa’s face remained impassive. It was one of the reasons Buck liked her. “Do you miss him?”

Missed was an understatement. Though Hen and Eddie had gone home and Buck had been glad to have his apartment mostly to himself, that didn’t stop him missing Eddie like a phantom limb. It had been difficult without Chris around, moreso for Eddie, but Buck had missed him too. That would change now, as long as they were careful and took precautions, and Buck wanted to go back to having Eddie and Chris to himself—without Chm around. “I just wish Chim would leave.”

“Hmm,” Lisa said.

“Not because I’m sick of him,” Buck said. “It’s just hard when he’s here. I feel like I can’t be myself.”

Lisa stared at him. “You can with Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “I can.”

“Then start with that,” Lisa said. “Keeping it a secret is taxing on you, and I can imagine on Eddie, but if the two of you have decided it works for you, then only you get to decide when you tell your friends and family.”

“I know.” Buck blew out a slow breath. “Thanks, Lisa.”

“It’s what I’m here for, Buck,” she said with a smile. “However, that’s the end of the session and I have to go. If you need anything, text me, alright?”

Buck nodded, thumb hovering over the mousepad. “I will. Thanks again.”

The sign off was always awkward over Zoom, but Buck hadn’t dealt well with face to face sessions. When he closed his laptop, he sat back in his chair, hearing Maddie’s laugh through the speakers of Chim’s laptop. Great. Rolling his eyes, Buck cast a quick eye at the clock. Not long and they had to be at work.

_________

“Well,” Eddie said. “At least it’s not a tsunami.”

Buck gave him a look. “Are you kidding me?”

Eddie was smiling, the dick, and Buck elbowed him. “Ow,” he said through a laugh. Sobering quickly, he reached out, squeezed Buck’s arm as best he was able in their gear. “It’ll be alright.”

“I can’t do it again, Eddie.”

Eddie turned. “Buck, look at me.”

Buck winced but did as asked. They didn’t have long before they’d be on the roof.

“I’ve got you, hear me? No matter what, you’re not on your own this time.”

I wasn’t before, Buck didn’t say. “Okay.”

“You hearing me?”

“Yes, Eddie, I got you.”

Eddie smirked. “Don’t sass me, Buckley.”

“I’ll do whatever Ilike,” Buck said mulishly, but he couldn’t stop the smile from forming. “Thanks, Eddie.”

“Anytime,” Eddie said, dropping his voice. “Now let’s get this done, alright?”

_____________________

Buck massaged his temples. “It was a disaster. Literally.”

“It was,” Lisa agreed.

“With everything that went on, it reminded me of the tsunami.”

Lisa nodded sympathetically. “That must have been difficult.”

It took Buck a minute to find his voice. “I had a job to do this time as well and I didn’t have Chris to look out for.” When he realised Lisa looked ready to speak, Buck powered on. “Not that I resented looking out for Chris. I know—you know how I feel about that and that I’ll probably always regret it, but I had Eddie this time. I had—a job and someone to help me.”

“Okay,” Lisa said. It wasn’t a dismissal, and Buck nodded. “I know how much trust you have in Eddie, Buck. I just wonder how much you have in yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve talked about the truck bombing, the tsunami. We’ve talked about the blood clots and the lawsuit,” and Buck winces at the reminder, “and throughout all of that you mention everything you’ve done wrong.”

Buck frowned. “Yeah?”

“What about the things you did right?”

There was a long silence.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I want you to do something for me, okay?”

Buck waited for her to finish, not knowing how to answer.

“Before you next call me, I want you to write down five things you’ve done right in the time you’ve been working. I would prefer it to be related to those incidents we discussed, but I will take other things as well.”

“I—” Buck started.

“If you can’t, it’s okay. I just want you to try.”

“Okay,” Buck said eventually. “I’ll try.”

_____________________

Maddie narrowed her eyes. “So when do I get hear about it?”

“Never,” Buck said, not having to ask what she meant. “It’s private, Mads.”

“Even from me?” Maddie sounded hurt. Buck hated himself just a little but he was taking to heart the things Lisa told him; he and Eddie were the only ones with the right to tell people that they were in a relationship, nobody else could decide for them.

Reaching out, he touched the screen, wishing he could hold her hand. “It’s not what you think, I promise you that. When I’m ready to tell you, I will.”

There was a long pause, but Maddie shut off the call and she didn’t look annoyed. “Okay. I am here if you need me.”

“I know,” Buck said. He missed his sister terribly, but was determined to make Chim leave before he met her himself. . “I wish I could convince Chim to come home.”

Maddie’s face shifted. She looked sad and Buck wished he could change that too. “I’m just as scared as he is. I shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“Want me to kick his ass?”

Shaking her head, Maddie at least let out a little laugh, so Buck counted it as a win. “No.”

“Maybe this,” Buck said, waving a hand behind him to encompass everything that had happened. “Will shake him up. He hasn’t come home yet.”

“He hasn’t?” Maddie frowned. “Didn’t he finish work with you?”

“I think Hen took him out,” Buck said. “Maybe she’s doing the yelling for you.”

There was the trace of a smile on her face. “I just want him want this as much as I do.”

“Hey,”Buck said, leaning forward. “If there’s one thing I do know about Chim right now, it’s that he’s desperate to be a dad with you, Mads. He’s been going through all my parenting books while we’ve been in lockdown.”

Maddie paused. “Why do you have parenting books?”

“For Chris,” Buck said, rolling his eyes. “Stop it. They were so i could help Eddie.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, and there was the sister he knew and loved so much. “If it’s for Eddie.”

“I’m going now,” Buck said, waving a hand. “Go do whatever it is you and Albert do.”

Maddie laughed and cut off the call.

___________________

“It’s my therapist,” Buck said.

Eddie looked up from cooking dinner. “What?”

“The person I’m calling.”

Eddie didn’t say anything for a long time. Buck worried it was because he was mad, but realised he was just turning off the burner. “Come here.”

Buck went, standing awkwardly next to Eddie, until Eddie reached up, wrapping his arms around Buck’s shoulders. Like a string had been cut, Buck fell against him, sorry when Eddie had to adjust his stance or send them toppling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eddie assured him, ghosting a kiss across his head. “I’m proud of you.”

“For seeing a therapist?” Buck scoffed.

Eddie pulled back, touching a hand to Buck’s face. “For telling me. I know it’s not an easy thing to do.”

Buck’s breathing was shaky, he could hear it, and he wanted to look anywhere but at Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “I wanted to make everything less messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” Eddie snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry. You might feel that way, but I don’t see messed up.”

“What do you see?”

“I see the man I love hurting and struggling.”

The words came out so easily that Buck was almost physically struck by them. “Eddie.”

“I love you,” Eddie said quietly. Buck knew what a gift it was to be loved by someone like Eddie. “I’m behind you no matter what.”

“I know,” Buck said, just as quiet. “I love you too. I just needed—quarantine got to me and I know it did to you—”

“You’re allowed to feel things too. It’s not a competition.”

Buck shrugged. “I know you had Chris.”

“And you had Maddie and me.”

“You were there.”

Eddie nodded, but made a face. “Not in the way we both wanted. It killed me not to be able to touch you or hold you in the way I’m used to.”

“Same.” Buck leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s mouth. “We’re together now.”

“Yeah, we are,” Eddie said, the smile on his face as brilliant as Buck felt. “Come on. Dinner’ll be ready soon and then you can challenge Chris to a lego battle.”

Buck snorted. “I’ll lose. I always do.”

“The joy of being a father,” Eddie said.

Again, Buck was struck by the words, and thought of Maddie. “I am, huh?”

Turning back to the stove, Eddie looked over his shoulder. “You will be.”

It sounded like a hell of a promise.

The next time Buck spoke to Lisa, he was sure he would have those five things she wanted. But if he didn’t, he could talk about Eddie. About Chris, his family, the future. He had something to look forward to and that made everything look brighter.

[aquaquadrant]

the little things

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

~*~

Ben’s been reunited with the other campers, and seems to have come out the other end of his experience stronger than ever before. But as he slowly finds his place back within the group, a bigger picture starts to emerge, piece by piece.

Rated T for: mental illness, mild language, panic attacks, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, eating disorder (not in a traditional sense, but definitely not a healthy relationship with food)

A/N: Hey Camp Cretaceous fandom, y’all mind if I uhhhh write six-thousand words about Ben’s trauma?? Basically, Netflix kept recommending the show to me so I watched the first ep out of curiosity and then ended up binging the whole thing in like two days, and now here I am.

(Dear sweet, patient, regular readers of mine: I’m so sorry my main fic’s been delayed but I promise it’s getting updated next week, I just had to get some feelings out about Sad Dino Boy)

Hope you enjoy, please reblog and leave a comment if you do! - Aqua

Click here to read on A03 (with more complete tags)

~*~

the little things

~*~ 

Ben Pincus has returned from the dead, and he’s never been better.

The other campers are amazed. What he’s been through must have been horrible. He thought he was the only one left, that there was no one to help him and no hope of rescue because he was presumed dead. It would’ve been enough to drive anyone into despair, or off of the deep end.

But Ben shows no signs of this.

They didn’t find him holed up somewhere, near starvation and waiting to die, like one might’ve expected. They didn’t find him at all, really. He found them, and by coming to their rescue, no less. And when he did, he wasn’t a trembling mess, he wasn’t a half-mad ball of paranoia, and he wasn’t a hollow-eyed skeleton fueled solely by desperation. 

He’s an all new and improved Ben, the best version of himself.

He hasn’t just survived, he’s flourished. He’s brave, he’s confident, he’s capable. He gives his opinions freely and without second-guessing himself, suggesting things the old Ben would’ve recoiled at. He fits seamlessly into the team like he never left. He faces problems head-on with determination and grit and not a trace of fear.

The turnaround is unbelievable. But even more important is that while he’s a new and improved Ben, he’s retained all the best parts of his old self.

Ben is easy smiles and meticulous organization of a leather waist bag and doting affection for a four-ton armored lizard. He’s sensitive and soft-spoken and accepts hugs from his friends gratefully. He still can’t quite pull off coolness, with a voice that sounds as gangly as his limbs look and an awkwardness he hasn’t grown out of.

And it’s perhaps because of this that no one thinks to look closer. This image is an easy thing to accept because it’s what they all want to believe, that Ben is okay- in fact, better than okay. But the truth is not always big and obvious upon first glance.

It’s the little things, as they soon find out.

~*~

That first evening after Ben’s return, after Mitch and Tiff and everything else, they don’t eat dinner.

They all ate their fill at the campsite and, after a month of scarcity, it was more than enough to sate their appetites. It’s Darius who thinks to ask Ben if he’s hungry, remembering that the boy hadn’t had the chance to eat with them. They have a good stockpile of food at the moment and he figures Ben must’ve been struggling.

But Ben shakes his head with an easy smile, and says, “Nah, I ate earlier.”

Darius leaves it at that, because there’s still so much catching up to do. They show Ben around their clubhouse, make plans for where to build a bunk for him (he insists he’d be just fine sleeping on the ground next to Bumpy, but they all veto that immediately). They talk well into the night about the day’s crazy events, filling each other in on their own sides of the story, and everything that’s happened since Ben got separated.

There are some more tears, some more hugs. But ultimately, the mood in the clubhouse is ecstatic. They never thought Ben had survived the fall so to have him back is better than a dream come true, it’s a miracle.

Darius thought he knew what it was to experience a miracle when they first saw that bonfire smoke on the horizon. But if he had to chose between the miracle of them finally leaving the island or the miracle of getting Ben back, it’s not even a competition.

Eventually the exhaustion catches up with everyone, and they turn in for the night. Bumpy parks herself underneath the clubhouse, her presence incredibly reassuring. Ben ends up sharing Kenji’s bunk because it’s bigger than Darius’s even when occupied by two, and the older teen had insisted in a very faux-casual way, to which Ben had rolled his eyes but nonetheless seemed touched by the gesture.

Darius takes the first night watch shift and gets to see all his friends sleeping peacefully. And even though Tiff sailed away with their only means for escaping, he feels a lot more hopeful than he has in a long time.

~*~

It’s canned peaches for breakfast.

A far cry from yesterday’s buffet. But no one’s complaining because the meticulous rationing of their food, courtesy of Darius, means they’re all starving by meal time and couldn’t care less what it tastes like. Darius is in the process of separating the food out into bowls, half a can for each of them, when he realizes Ben has yet to take a seat. He’s lingering at the edge of the room, watching.

“Hey,” Darius calls, “you coming or what?”

Ben shakes his head. “Thanks, but I already got my own breakfast.”

Before Darius can respond, Brooklynn shoots Ben a look. “What? Where?” she demands. “You holding out on us, jungle boy?”

Darius shoots her a look, but Ben just gives an easy smile and unzips the leather pouch that’s reclaimed its spot around his waist. He withdraws a small handful of bright red berries, no bigger than blueberries. It’s not even a fraction of the half-can of peaches the rest of them are settling for, and Darius sees his own unease reflected in the others’ eyes.

Brooklynn glances away. “Oh. Um, sorry. You don’t… you can have some of ours, you know?”

“I’m good.” Ben tosses a couple berries into his mouth. “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go check on Bumpy.”

“O- oh, okay…” Sammy murmurs, watching Ben go with uncertain eyes. “If you’re sure…”

They’re silent for a moment.

Kenji inhales quietly through his teeth. “So… that’s weird, right?”

Yaz leans forward in her seat. “What do you think, Darius?” she asks lowly.

Darius bites his lip. Even though dinosaurs are his specific topic of interest, he’s gained a lot of second-hand knowledge about general biology and psychology. After all, he has to understand the processes behind behavior in order to identify patterns and deviations.

And right now, he has to admit that Ben is displaying a very concerning behavior.

“I’ll talk to him,” Darius decides.

There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table, and the others start eating. It takes Darius longer than usual to finish his serving.

~*~

“So, uh, bottom line is… you don’t need to feel bad about eating our food. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else, and we’re happy to share.”

After a couple tense days, Darius is finally talking to Ben about the food situation. Or rather, talking at him. Because Ben’s not looking at Darius- his eyes are tracking the small spider that’s crawling along the railing next to them. Normally, Darius would take it as a sign of boredom and inattentiveness. But there’s an intensity in Ben’s eye that’s a little unsettling-

Quick as a flash, Ben shoots out an arm. He crushes the spider under his thumb and swipes it into his mouth. And then, untroubled as can be, he returns his focus to Darius as if nothing had happened.

Darius has overheard Kenji teasing Ben about eating bugs, and Ben has admitted as much in the stories of his time alone. Berries and grubs were what he lived on. Darius, for one, can’t imagine being hungry and desperate enough to snatch a bug off the ground and eat it.

But it’s even harder to imagine having access to real food, good food, and still choosing to eat bugs.

“Don’t worry so much,” Ben says lightly, patting Darius on the shoulder as he turns to go. “I can take care of myself.”

That does it. “You can’t keep living off berries and grubs!” Darius finally snaps.

Ben whirls around. “Says who?”

“Basic human biology!” Darius retorts.

Ben glares at him, but there’s something shaky behind it. “Darius, I told you it’s fine,” he says evenly, though he doesn’t fully meet Darius’s gaze. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Please? If I’m hungry, I’ll eat.”

Darius hesitates. “You promise?”

Ben breaks into an easy smile. “I promise.”

Darius sighs. It’ll have to be good enough, for now.

“Okay.”

~*~

Darius knows he isn’t the only one still concerned by Ben’s lack of appetite.

Right from the start, Ben was the scrawniest one among them, and it’s only gotten worse. But surely he’ll have to eat at some point, right? Basic survival instincts will win out over whatever stubborn mindset is holding him back. Plus, it’s clear that he’s got enough energy to run and climb and stuff with no problem.

Maybe it’s not as serious as Darius thinks. Maybe Ben just needs time.

~*~

Ben doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He just- he can’t take their food! Why don’t they get that?

And it’s not because he’s stubborn, it’s not- no matter what Darius thinks. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you (as long as you don’t let it make you soft, of course). After all, he relies on Bumpy. He just… when he looks at the food, and imagines eating it, he just knows it’ll sit in his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down.

Plus, plus, if he gets used to eating like that, it’ll just- it’ll be harder to cope once it runs out. He’s already gotten used to roughing it and it was hard enough the first time, he can’t let himself slip back into complacency. And- and really, how long do they think it’s going to last? They’ve searched all the previously inhabited areas of the island and there’s no more food for them to scavenge.

Do they think they’ll be rescued before it runs out? No one is coming to save them. They know it as much as Ben does- they wouldn’t be bothering with rafts if they didn’t. Do they think they’ll escape, then? Sure, because their current attempts have been going so well.

No, they just aren’t thinking long term. Ben is.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

~*~

It’s the sixth day in a row where Ben eats nothing but berries.

He wants to search around some more, see if there’s anything more substantial. That would require him to leave Bumpy, though. And he can’t leave Bumpy. But the hunger is excruciating. It gnaws at him every waking moment, keeps him up at night. He’s never felt such hunger in his life, not even close. He can’t keep going like this, can he?

But there’s nothing else.

Except… something’s crawling up his arm. Something small, and leggy. Ben turns his head, squinting to focus his eyes in the dark. It’s some kind of beetle, with a shiny shell that catches stray shafts of moonlight poking through the roof of his lean-to.

Ben stares at it for a moment. Then, before he can think, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. He barely registers any taste, mostly just the crunchy texture. And even though it wasn’t any bigger than a quarter, after he swallows, he feels… fuller. Even if it’s purely imagined, it’s a comfort.

Berries and grubs. It’ll have to be enough.

There’s nothing else.

~*~

Ben continues to decline their offers of food.

~*~

A few weeks after the reunion, Kenji is starting to get antsy.

As the self-designated ‘pro-fun police’ (a clever play on ‘no-fun police,’ if Kenji does say so himself), he’s made it his responsibility to make sure none of his friends just keel over and die from stress one day. That means it’s his job- no, his duty- to lighten the mood with copious amounts of joking, goofing off, and, of course, pranking.

Jumping out to scare his friends while they’re trapped on a dino-infested island might, on paper, sound like a bad idea. But it keeps everyone on their toes, and the relief of realizing they aren’t facing a dino attack, just Kenji pulling a prank, helps keep any real anger at bay. It’s typically an exasperated annoyance, which Kenji will gladly take. His main targets are Brooklynn and Darius, because he can’t fathom doing that to Sammy, and Yaz is- while perhaps in the most need of lightening up- super freaking scary.

But now that Ben’s back, Kenji knows what he has to do.

Before, back when they were just campers and not survivors, Ben was easily the most frightened of them. The kid was scared of dirt. And his over-the-top hysterics always managed to, somehow, put everyone else at ease. Because if Ben was scared of something, that didn’t really mean anything. Again; scared of dirt.

(Now, if Yaz is scared of something, that’s a different story).

Since Ben’s, uh… departure, they’ve been sorely lacking that energy in the group. Kenji would wager he’s not the only one who misses it. He used to have so much fun riling Ben up with just a couple words (none of the others are so easily baited). And whenever Ben would freak out and instantly cling to him, like some kind of scrawny spider monkey, it made Kenji feel… capable, in a way.

Like, if Ben was trusting Kenji to protect him, maybe he wasn’t so useless after all (which was becoming an all too frequent feeling as the others continued to adapt and grow, leaving Kenji struggling to keep up).

Problem is, Ben’s really hard to scare now.

It’s not always obvious, like when he’s bragging about taking down Toro or itching to blow things up. Sometimes it’s the little things. Whenever they’re out in a group, foraging or gathering supplies, and there’s a sound in the distance that makes them all freeze, Ben’s frozen in readiness, not fear. He looks more like Yaz, tense and waiting with his fists up and eyes narrowed.

Sometimes, when they aren’t occupied by any particular task or imminent threat, and have the chance to enjoy some downtime, Ben drifts off to the side and just… watches, all tense, silent, and anxious. He’ll watch the tree line, or Bumpy on the ground below, or even just the rest of them as they go about their business. Kenji is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed but none of them bring it up.

It’s… unsettling, seeing Ben like this. Kenji figured he just needed a couple weeks to fall back into the rhythm of the group, to see that he didn’t have to be this loner Rambo type of guy anymore. But even though he talks with them easy enough, seems to enjoy their company, and has a good handle on teamwork, it’s like there’s a part of him that can’t fully shake that mentality.

At least, not without help.

~*~

 Kenji’s plan is- in his humble opinion- pretty dang brilliant.

He waits for a time when it’s just him and Ben in the main level of the clubhouse (Yaz is running laps around their perimeter, Darius is in his bunk writing in his nerd book, Brooklynn and Sammy are upstairs going over inventory) and then announces he’s going for a shower. His daily showers are common knowledge at this point, so Ben just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to leaning against the railing, watching Bumpy graze down below in that tense-silent-anxious way of his.

Kenji sets up the shower and lets it run (he’ll go down to the river later and get more water to make up for the waste, because even though he tries to avoid manual labor whenever possible, it’s totally worth it in this case). And then, being more careful and silent than he’s ever been (except maybe in cases where he’s being hunted by dinos), he slowly creeps up behind Ben before leaping forward with a shriek, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Ben doesn’t just jump and scream. He jumps, screams, then spins around and swings a fist into Kenji’s jaw in one smooth motion.

Kenji’s laughing even as he staggers back, his jaw stinging (because at the end of the day, even though Ben’s kind of a badass now, he’s still Ben and his arms are pretty much chicken wings so there’s no real harm done, just a bruise at most). Plus that’s a valid reaction, considering everything, and he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Oh man, I totally got you!” Kenji says anyways, to rub it in. “You should see your… face...”

And Kenji trails off because now he’s seeing Ben’s face.

What Kenji expected is this:

Once Ben realized it was just him pulling a prank, he would get mad. In that totally non-threatening dorky Ben way, where he scrunches his nose and puffs out his cheeks, his little fists clenched at his side like an irate toddler. Maybe he’d stomp off but it’d be worth it because being mad is better than being tense-silent-anxious and it’d give him the chance to be annoyed with Kenji. And maybe Ben being annoyed with Kenji would help everything feel a little more normal, a little more like before.

What Kenji gets is this:

Once Ben realizes it was just him pulling a prank, he doesn’t get mad. He starts shaking. Violently, uncontrollably. Like he’s suddenly come down with hypothermia despite being in a tropical jungle, staring at Kenji all the while and not saying a word. His chest rises and falls rapidly in little panicky breaths and the kind of fear in his eyes isn’t the kind that’s funny. It’s glassy-eyed with shrunken pupils that dart around Kenji’s face, frightened and searching, as if he isn’t fully seeing it.

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

Kenji hasn’t heard Ben’s voice sound that small since before, and it doesn’t feel like a victory.

By now, of course, the others have noticed the commotion and it doesn’t take more than a second for them to piece together what happened. Yaz rounds on Kenji with a furious snarl and whisper-screams a lecture about how stupid and irresponsible he is. Darius is immediately trying to mediate the situation while Sammy frantically asks Ben if he’s okay, to which he doesn’t respond. Brooklynn steps in, citing an unboxing video about dealing with shock, and when she goes to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he lets her.

And now Kenji realizes where he miscalculated. Ben never showed discomfort with physical contact before because he’d never been surprised by it before (because Ben has gotten scary good at being alert, always keeping an eye and an ear out on his surroundings even in the middle of a conversation). And when it came to his friends, it wasn’t unexpected for Sammy to rush in with a hug or Darius to pat his shoulder or Brooklynn to playfully knock elbows.

But Kenji snuck up on him, so Ben’s first thought wasn’t that it was a friend. It was that he was going to have to run for his life, like he has countless times since being stranded on this island.

Kenji apologizes over and over again as Darius gently leads him away by the elbow and Brooklynn talks to Ben in low tones while Sammy squeezes his hand and Yaz takes up a lookout position because they can’t afford for all of them to be distracted even though she occasionally cuts a glare at Kenji out of the corner of her eye so it’s really debatable how vigilant she’s actually being.

Throughout it all, Ben doesn’t get mad, but he doesn’t stop shaking.

 ~*~

 Darius explains it, later.

“The sudden fear reaction signaled a bunch of adrenaline to be released into his bloodstream, to give him the energy needed for running. And then, when he didn’t, there was nowhere for that energy to go. It’s like, even though his mind knew there wasn’t any danger, his body wasn’t convinced.” Then, a sympathetic look. “You didn’t know, man.”

Kenji only nods. But knowing doesn’t make it better because even though Ben’s stopped shaking he doesn’t turn his back on Kenji anymore and somehow that’s a million times worse than if he’d gotten mad.

 ~*~

 There are claws wrapped around Ben’s shoulders and shrieks in his ears.

Wind whips his face and his stomach lurches as he’s carried through the air, weightless, at the mercy of the Pteranodon. He’s never felt so small and utterly helpless before, not once in his life. Even his screams aren’t big enough to carry, snatched away by the wind and deafened by the roars of the terror-birds fighting over the right to tear him limb from limb.

And then he’s falling and has other things to worry about.

 ~*~

 Ben stops sharing Kenji’s bunk.

 ~*~

 In a rare moment of downtime, Yasmina is curled up with Darius’s field guide, adding a few more illustrations, when she feels Ben staring at her.

It’s not the first time she’s felt him staring at her. It is the first time, however, that she decides to stare back.

She means it to be playful, at first. She meets his eyes, one brow quirked as if to say, ‘What, is there something on my face?’ But instead of glancing away in sheepish embarrassment or jolting out of a daze, Ben just stares back. There’s no emotion in his expression at all except intense focus.

The faint smile drops from Yasmina’s face as she stares back in surprise. Then, with ever-growing confusion and a fair amount of alarm, she realizes that Ben’s shoulders are rising, tense and hunched like he’s trying to make himself look bigger.

Like an animal.

Yasmina knows what it is to stare down a wild animal. She’s felt predatory eyes on her before and either bolted or turned to face the challenge. And that’s what it is, for some of the dinos- a challenge. Sometimes they’re testing your mettle, and standing your ground is enough to make them back off.

Ben must’ve learned that, too. And for whatever reason, he’s slipping into that behavior now.

It’s a ridiculous thought. This is Ben, her friend. Her very scrawny friend who can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and prefers a diet of berries and grubs. And yet, here he is, staring her down like she’s a particularly bold pack of Compies that’s decided to threaten him.

Yasmina gives a slow, deliberate blink. “Ben?” she calls. “What’s up?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. Ben gives a violent start, blinking and shaking his head. Yasmina sees confusion flash across his face, and then realization. And now the embarrassment comes, but it’s darkened by something like horror.

Without a word, Ben turns and darts away, scrambling down the ladder to the alcove underneath the house where Bumpy’s napping.

Yasmina lets him go, too baffled and unsettled to form words.

 ~*~

 Eventually, Yasmina tells Darius about it.

His expression is troubled as she runs through the incident. But in the end, there’s nothing more he can tell her than what she’s already worked out on her own. It’s just another side effect of the mindset Ben has adopted throughout his isolation. Those habits were what he relied on to survive, and it’ll take time for him to realize he doesn’t have to constantly be on edge now that he’s got a team to look out for him.

Though privately, Yasmina wonders if maybe the rest of them should take a page out of Ben’s book. Seems like he’s got a better handle on survival than they do.

(And then she thinks how Sammy would react, if Yasmina started acting like a wary animal around her, and she realizes Ben’s methods come with a price.)

 ~*~

 After Ben runs the Compies off for the first time, staring becomes a defense tactic.

It’s not always the Compies, who are slowly but surely learning not to mess with him. Sometimes it’s the Parasaurolophus in the river, or the lone Pteranodon perched in a tree, or the group of Edmontosauruses grazing on the hilltop. As soon as he feels their eyes on him, he knows his best chance is to stare back, to show that he’s willing to put up a fight, that chasing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Obviously, there are some dinosaurs that doesn’t work on. But if Ben can drastically cut down the amount of time spent running for his life by standing his ground, then he’ll take it.

All he has to do is not back down.

 ~*~

 Ben avoids Yasmina for the next few days.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn wakes up in the middle of the night with an unshakeable feeling that something is wrong.

Her bad feeling is confirmed when she gets a look at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she should’ve been woken up by Ben to take her night watch shift at least an hour ago. This practice, established by Darius months ago who insisted they should always have at least one person awake, has already become routine within the group. Brooklynn couldn’t sleep fully through the night if she tried.

Ben’s only just recently become a part of the routine. Immediately after his return, Darius thought it best just to let Ben settle in and get as much rest as he could, now that he had the security to do so, and everyone agreed. Ben had insisted he didn’t mind, but Darius stood firm, so it’s only been within the last few days that Ben took part.

But this is the first time he hasn’t woken Brooklynn up and her heart is in her throat as she rushes to the lookout point-

Only to find Ben sitting right where he’s supposed to be, looking out over their compound as a small candle burns next to him.

As soon as Brooklynn’s relief passes, it’s replaced with anger. “What are you doing?” she whispers furiously.

Ben, not at all surprised by her presence, gives her a sidelong look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You were supposed to wake me up, so I could do night watch.” Brooklynn struggles to keep her voice low, so as not to alert the others. “What gives?”

Ben shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight, so I figured I’d just take the whole watch myself.”

“That’s not how this works,” Brooklynn hisses, crossing her arms. “Even if you can’t fall asleep- and I’ve totally been there- you have to lay down and close your eyes and rest. You need to rest.”

Ben breaks into an easy smile, but Brooklynn can see the annoyed creases at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know,” Brooklynn interrupts, hating how frustrated she sounds but unable to help it. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team. We can take care of you too, alright?”

Ben stares at her for a moment. “I know that,” he says, sounding uncertain.

Brooklynn softens. When she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, he lets her. “Then… why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben admits. The muscles beneath Brooklynn’s hand are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. “I don’t know.”

They finish the night watch together.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn almost hates to bring it up to Darius.

Dude’s stressing almost nonstop about everything, all the time. And it really isn’t fair for him to be responsible for the rest of them, including Ben. But Darius is the only one who seems to have the… what’s it called, emotional intelligence, she supposes, to weigh in on the situation.

(Sammy is a close second, but her brand of caring is a little more touchy-feely, and this doesn’t seem like the right time for that.)

Darius is immediately worried, pointing out that Ben might accidentally fall asleep on watch if he keeps this up (something Brooklynn hadn’t even thought about). He promises to talk to Ben about it, and that’s that.

Brooklynn is only slightly relieved because she knows if Darius had a real fix for the problem, he would’ve said so. And if Darius doesn’t have a fix for it, maybe there isn’t one.

 ~*~

 Those first several nights, Ben doesn’t sleep at all.

And it’s not for lack of trying. But how can he sleep, when it’s pitch black and the jungle is full of unfamiliar sounds and he’s got no one but a baby Ankylosaurus by his side? He soon finds it’s even worse without Bumpy, though, because at least he trusted that Bumpy would wake up if there was any danger, as her senses are more powerful than his.

On his own, there’s no one to wake him up. So he has to stay up, and settle for catching short scattered naps throughout the day (if he can find a tree to hide up in).

It’s hard, but he’d rather be tired than dead.

 ~*~

 Ben is taken off night watch, but still ends up awake more often than not.

 ~*~

 Pyromaniac is a word no one ever expected to become synonymous with Ben, and yet here they are.

It’s one of the first things he always suggests as an answer to a problem; blow something up. Darius has a million reasons for them not to do that; they could get hurt, they could start a wildfire and burn the jungle down, they could attract unwanted attention from predators.

But that doesn’t stop Ben from cataloguing everything on the island that can be used as an explosive, memorizing their locations or creating hidden stashes. It doesn’t stop him from using the candles that came with the scavenged emergency kits. He’ll light them for no reason, just to watch the small flame flicker back and forth.

(Someday, months later, they’ll encounter a horrific hybrid dinosaur that is drawn to flames, and they’ll all think about how unsettling it is that Ben shares this trait, but none of them will say it.)

 ~*~

 It’s been one week since Bumpy left, and Ben is starting a fire.

Just a small one. It rained all day and he’s soaked to the bone, which normally wouldn’t be a huge problem considering the jungle climate. But now that it’s nighttime, there’s a chill in the air and he can’t afford to get sick. It’s risky, because at night he knows the light could draw attention to him, but his teeth are starting to chatter so there’s no helping it.

When a Stegosaurus stumbles upon him, baying low and angry at finding another creature in its territory, it’s the fire that makes it balk. Rumbling displeasure, it retreats back into the dark jungle. Ben quickly adds torches to his arsenal, using the rest of his shirt as tinder.

Fire is safety.

 ~*~

 Ben lights his candles in silence.

 ~*~

 “You can’t just run off like that,” Kenji says, deadly serious.

Ben scoffs. “I think you’re forgetting who defeated Toro,” he says with an easy smile.

“You’re not invincible, Ben!” Kenji snaps. The anger churning inside him is deceptively hollow, like it’s masking something else. “And I can’t lose you again.”

Ben isn’t smiling anymore. “You won’t,” he mutters, pushing past Kenji. “I can take care of myself, now. I don’t need you to play the hero and protect me.”

Kenji wants to protest that’s not what this is about, and that’s never been what this is about, but Ben is already gone.

 ~*~

 Ben still lives off berries and grubs.

 ~*~

 “… and so I was thinking, berries have seeds in them, right? So if we plant some, we’ll have our own berry bushes at the clubhouse. It’ll cut down our foraging time in the mornings for sure, and-”

“Uh, who are you talking to, Ben?”

Ben blinks at Yasmina’s voice, the girl having only just entered the room.

“Um, Bumpy?” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Yasmina glances out at the compound, where Bumpy is fast asleep and well out of earshot.

“… right.”

 ~*~

 Ben can’t sleep, even when he’s actually trying.

 ~*~

 “Alright,” Darius says, “so we need to get the T-Rex out of Main Street so we can do another sweep for supplies. Any ideas?”

Ben’s hand goes up.

“For the hundredth time, Ben, we aren’t going to feed the T-Rex to the Mosasaurus.”

Ben’s hand goes down.

 ~*~

 Ben feels more at home with Bumpy than the other campers.

 ~*~

 “You know we didn’t mean to leave you, right? We would’ve come back for you if we’d known…”

 ~*~

 Ben never talks about getting off the island.

 ~*~

 “You have to tell us where you’re going, Ben, you can’t just disappear-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps slipping away.

 ~*~

“Blowing stuff up isn’t the answer to everything!”

~*~

 Ben keeps saying he’s okay.

 ~*~

 “We’re a team, we have to work together-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps smiling.

 ~*~

 “Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

 ~*~

 Ben doesn’t know.

 ~*~

 Sammy finds Ben sitting on the roof of the clubhouse one day.

Her footsteps are loud and obvious as she approaches him. No chance of sneaking up. She knows he’s noticed her, from the subtle shift in his body. He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, continuing to stare off over the jungle and into the horizon, his skinny legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the edge.

The sun’s about to set, a few stars already twinkling in the purple edges of the sky. Sammy can remember another night, months ago, where Ben wasn’t here but everyone else was and they spotted bonfire smoke in the distance. She remembers the way her heart raced, the overwhelming joy and relief flooding through her. And yet, there had been undeniable heartache, because the realization that they’d made it out only meant it was more unfair that Ben hadn’t.

Sammy breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, but she can see the easy smile that slants across his face, dying sunlight reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Sammy sees the lie for what it is. None of them are okay. No one who’s been through what they have would be. But there’s a certain danger that comes with not being willing to admit it, and an even greater danger that comes with not being able to see it.

“Y’know, it’d be fine if you weren’t.”

Ben doesn’t answer.

Sammy sits with him until the sky turns dark.

 ~*~

 It’s the way he struggles to eat anything he hasn’t obtained by himself.

It’s the way he sometimes goes off on his own without telling anyone.

It’s the way he talks to himself when he thinks no one else is around.

It’s the way he takes any concern for his safety as a personal attack.

It’s the way he leaps at the chance to blow something up.

It’s the way he can stare silently for hours.

It’s the way he smiles a little too easily.

 ~*~

 It’s not jumping at every unexpected movement, or screaming awake from night terrors, or flinching away from the slightest touch. It’s not loud meltdowns or hysterical sobbing or uncontrollable fits of rage.

(Even though those will come, someday, when the island is just a memory.)

It’s the little things, that- once you notice them- keep piling up.

And suddenly, they don’t seem so little anymore.

 ~*~

[philliamwrites]

compromissum

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Xiao/Aether

Tags: #blood, #angst, #hurt and comfort

Words: 2.5k

Summary: [lat. compromissum: “mutual promise”] In which Xiao has made his very own contract with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

Commissioner: CrystalNines

Notes: I swear, one day I'll learn how to write happy endings.

compromissum

     All is quiet. The shack hiding in the shadow of a cliff is abandoned and left to rot, its wood mouldy and old. No one has been here for a quite a long while and no one desires to visit this forsaken place tugged away in a corner of Qingxu Pool. Then, a figure breaks through the roof, destroying half of its construction.

    All air is knocked out of Xiao’s lungs as he slams onto the ground, but there is no time to catch his breath. He rolls to the side not a moment too late before a Geovishap drops through the opening in the roof and smashes into the ground right where he was laying seconds ago. It snarls, showing a row of razor sharp, enormous teeth the size of Xiao’s lower arm. The corner of Xiao’s mouth twitches as if to reply by bearing his own teeth.

    Blood, warm and wet, runs down his arm, making his grip around his polearm slippery and he shakes his head to clear the dizziness from the Geovishap’s blow earlier. There’s shouting from somewhere above his head, voices echoing over the valley with fear and worry palpable Xiao tries to ignore. He doesn’t need anyone to look after him. So many years have passed where he was out on the hunt by himself without anyone watching his back.

    But there’s one voice he’s learnt to pick out from a crowd, one that no matter when and where lures Xiao in even at a time like this when he’s facing a thirty-thousand-pound monster that can easily break his spine.

    The Geovishap charges. Xiao uses the end of his polearm to gain additional height and jump over it, its amber horn almost grazing the tip of his foot. Before the monster can turn, Xiao lunges forward, his polearm raised to strike and unbalance it, so he’d get access to the soft skin of its belly. But the Geovishap is surprisingly fast for something this big and sturdy, and it whirls around, smashing a giant fist, hard as rock, into Xiao’s side and he cries out, feeling his ribs break. Pain like someone split his side open bare-handed sears through him as he’s thrown against a wall and crumbles to the ground. Black dots dance across his blurred vision and the taste of iron fills his mouth. He spits out blood, his arms trembling from the effort to get back up.

    A shooting star crashes into the Geovishap—no, not a star. Aether. He plunges through the broken roof, fire blazing in his golden eyes as he brings his sword down on the reptilian creature in a single, deadly strike. The Geovishap roars a last time, then falls into himself and remains lifeless n the dirty shack’s ground.

    In his long life, Xiao has gotten used to seeing creatures lose their lives, often by his own hand, but it never ceased to make him wonder how something this big and wild a second ago becomes an empty shell, void of life—how easy and fast, seamless, the transition from alive to dead is. How nothing in this world cares about technicalities like good or evil for all is equal in death.

    In front of him is Aether, beautiful Aether with his sword still raised, its tip glinting in the setting sun like freshly tempered iron in heavenly fire. The sight reminds Xiao of this creature he’s read about a long time ago: Angels, they are called, that descend upon the mortal ground to bring justice in the name of something holier than them. Looking at Aether now, Xiao doesn’t struggle to imagine such a creature—the warm, red horizon illuminates his golden hair. A halo.

    Someone places a small hand tentatively on Xiao’s wounded shoulder and he recoils, finally tearing his gaze away from too beautiful Aether.

    “This looks bad,” Barbara says. For someone looking this frail, her grip is firm, and she doesn’t allow Xiao to wiggle out. “Let me take a closer look.”

    Xiao hisses, “No need.” It takes effort to get back on his feet, his muscles scream in protest but everything in him refuses to appear weak. “We still have one bounty left.”

    “Forget the bounty,” Aether cuts in, sharper than his sword’s edge. He closes the distance in a few strides and ignoring Xiao’s protests, Aether slides one arm around his waist and ducks under Xiao’s arm to steady him. “We’re going back to camp,” he declares and looks around, at Barbara and at Amber whose eyes are big and round with worry. No one objects.

    Except Xiao.

    “I’m fine.”

    “I don’t know what ‘fine’ meant for you back in your time but nowadays it doesn’t mean what you are right now.”

    “I am well aware of its meaning—” Xiao hisses when Aether leans a little too much into his hurt side.

    “Yeah,” Aether deadpans. “This sure looks fine.”

    Xiao can’t remember a time Aether has ever talked to him like that: Cold, dismissive, sneering almost. Not soft, kind Aether who starts to cry whenever one of Amber’s stray arrows accidentally hits a squirrel and they spend the afternoon burying it under a pine tree. This Aether doesn’t spare him another glance. He helps Xiao all the way to their campsite hidden inside a little cavern with a grim expression, his mouth pressed together into a thin line.

    When they finally reach their camp, Xiao disentangles from Aether and retreats to a corner further inside the cavern where a boar’s hide is laid out on the ground as a makeshift bed. It was easier to ignore his wounds with adrenaline pumping through his body but as it always does, the pain catches up to him in the end and leaves him paralysed with agony. When he lays down, slowly and carefully, gritting his teeth against any pained noise, he hears hushed whispers, his company’s mumbled conversation about him and what they’re going to do with him. Xiao doesn’t care. But this scene is familiar, and when he closes his eyes, his mind transports him to the past, to a time when the ground grew ill from soaking up too much blood and he’d lied on hard, unyielding stone that leaked grime and misery, falling into a dreamless slumber to four familiar voices.

    Xiao startles out of sleep, jolts right into awareness and almost smacks Aether across the face who dodges just in time as Xiao’s fist whirls past his jaw. They stare each other down for a long moment like two cats assessing each other to decide if they could trust each other. Eventually, Aether crouches down next to Xiao. He holds a little bamboo box in his hand and Xiao can smell the distinctive bitter note of the du huang mixture Granny Ruoxin gave them as thanks for driving off Hilichurls camping in the bamboo forest at the foot of the mountain that gently cradles Qingce Village.

    “Your wound. Show me,” Aether says quietly, even though there is no need to whisper. Looking over his shoulder, Xiao doesn’t see Barbara or Amber. They’ve left camp, probably to collect some berries or fetch water from the nearby river, which means he and Aether are alone and that’s something he’s tried to avoid lately. But that isn’t right either because it feels like the absence of a magnetic centre, and without it nothing makes sense at all.

    Xiao tries to sit up, but his limbs are still sore, and he feels like someone wrung him completely dry. The pain in his shoulder is a dull throb and he feels a rib poke somewhere it shouldn’t. His breathing is shallow, but he is breathing after everything and that is enough.

    “I can take care of it myself,” he says, his voice lowered as well as if they were talking about a small animal that might flee any second. He holds his hand out to Aether who stares at it as if Xiao has grown an additional sixth finger.

    “You’ve been with us for months now,” Aether says. “Why can’t you trust us? Why can’t you trust me?”

    Xiao’s hand drops back in his lap. In his whole life the amount of people he’s trusted can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Two had slaughtered each other, one had grown mad from the burden she couldn’t carry, one had abandoned him and the last had died by the hands of those who walked on the soil he prepared for them. Trust is a fragile thing, kept locked and hidden away and not even too beautiful Aether with his eyes and hair of golden sunshine and mind of gilded kindness could bring him to trust again.

    His silence appears to be answer enough. Aether’s eyes drop to the ground, disappearing behind a thick curtain of bright lashes like the sun setting behind the distant horizon to unimaginable places. Something inside Xiao uncoils at that sight. But then Aether does what he always does, something he’s unnervingly good at: He doubles back to strike when one least expects it. His eyes rise to meet Xiao’s and with a conviction that leaves no place for doubt or objection he says, “I don’t mind waiting however long it takes. You said to speak your name and you will appear to vanquish my demons and foes. But know that when you speak my name, I will come and carry your burden.”

    “Why?” Xiao demands.

    “Why not?” Aether asks with an intensity that Xiao isn’t equipped to handle.

    He huffs a little breath of annoyance. “I am not your problem.”

    “You’re not a problem,” Aether almost snaps at him, mirroring his annoyance like a shot deflected and cast back. Something in Xiao stutters like a flame struggling against the wind that tries to extinguish it. He remembers words Rex Lapis had told him many, many years ago after he’d saved him from the hands of an evil god that had marked him with ink that would never let him forget who he once belonged to: Even after all that darkness he should never stop looking for the light in everything and everyone.

    “Because people will come, and they will teach you about love and forgiveness. But you have to let them in, Xiao. First you have to accept this slight moment of vulnerability, and then you will be rewarded with goodness. Never lock away your heart, Xiao. It pains me to think you might be all alone forever.”

    Xiao closes his eyes, conjuring Rex Lapis’ face in his mind. What he would give if only he could see him one last time.

    Aether stirs, ready to return to his side of the camp but Xiao catches his wrist. At some point during the evening, Aether has taken off his gloves and now Xiao can see a line where they would end. The skin below is slightly paler, and his fingers are long and slender, beautiful. Hands made to be captured in coal paintings, so history won’t forget them. One part of him wants to put them to his lips and worship every single digit to engrave Aether’s taste onto his tongue, the other imagines cutting them off one by one and wearing a bloody necklace of Aether’s fingers, his own good luck charm for eternity.

    Without a word, he turns around and offers Aether his wounded shoulder. Behind him, Aether is very still first. Xiao can only imagine what horrid wound Aether’s eyes lay upon: The skin parted by jagged claws, left unattended while the blood has dried on his skin. Yaksha heal faster than mortals, but they are not invulnerable or immortal. Any other person, this blow would have killed for sure.

    Then Xiao feels a cool mixture carefully applied to his wound by warm, warm hands which doesn’t surprise him. Everything about Aether is warm.

    They sit in comfortable silence, the soft crackling of the fire in the background the only sound that fills the dimly lit cavern. Shadows dance on the wall and Xiao observes them for a moment, recognising this daemon and that impure ghost from his past until they all merge into an undistinguishable shape and he closes his eyes to block them out and simply feel Aether’s careful motions, the balm slowly warming upon his skin, the pain fading until, like everything else, it becomes a memory.

    When Aether is done, his hand lingers on Xiao’s back, his fingertips slightly grazing another scar that dips just below his ribcage. Xiao’s body tells his history in scars and he can still recount which daemon left which. Mortals tell you time heals it all and soon you forget, but Xiao doesn’t, he remembers everything. Xiao remembers everything.

    He turns slowly, and finds Aether still kneeling in front of him. Trying to meet his eyes, they are so close Xiao could count every eyelash framing Aether’s round, kind eyes. He takes Aether’s hand, a small hand, studies it and intertwines their fingers as if he already misses Aether’s small hand in his palm.“

    You know I would give my life for you,” Xiao says, for his contract to protect Liyue has been terminated with Rex Lapis’ death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set his own rules, live by his own contract.

    Something in Aether’s expression changes; an almost forlorn look but whatever he tries to find in Xiao’s face, Xiao can’t give it.

    “Xiao, we can still—” he starts, but Xiao silences him by lifting his other hand and grazing Aether’s cheek with his fingertips.

    “We already talked about this,” he says in a voice as if he’s trying to explain something to a child. “I serve, but I do not love. I cannot love for my first master has taken that ability and it was lost with his death.”

    His feelings for Aether could be love in a different world, a different time. But right here, right now, they are what is left of it; a shadow, only a memory. Desire maybe, worship, yes. But love wouldn’t leave this bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks of Aether. It wouldn’t.

    Aether looks gutted. His mouth twists, as if he’s trying to hold in tears; Xiao knows the feeling and he hates seeing it on Aether’s face, hates being the reason why Aether looks heartbroken, why he is heartbroken. In a different world, Xiao could be kinder to Aether and give him what he deserves. But in this, with marks upon him that will never disappear and the taste of dreams still fresh on his tongue as if he has never stopped devouring them, he is not what Aether needs.

    But he will make up for that. He will serve Aether until his dying breath and either fall in battle for him or remain by his side even as old age claims Aether, should he age like mortals do. It would be an honour to die for Aether and until that day comes, Xiao will stay by his side and only after that, he will allow himself to rest and let the kind, soft tunes of a flute carry his soul to the next world, hoping even one as tainted as his is allowed peace and respite. That is the compromise he has constructed, the contract he has agreed upon with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

[darkmulti]

12:39

BTS

Vampire! Taehyung & Jungkook x human!female reader

Genre: explicit smut

Word Count: 1.7K

———

A/N: Here’s a little time stamp before I log out😔 This was suppose to be a five hundred word time stamp, but I kinda got carried away👉👈

———

⚠️Warnings: rough sex, cum eating, breeding kink, choking, manipulation, biting, squirting, bits of degradation, bits of praising, blowjob, cum play, dacryphilia kink, double penetration, anal, spitting/licking, overstimulation, orgasm, probably missed something

———

“Jungkook! Please go faster!” Y/N moans and throws her head back, clenching around the vampire's cock. The other vampire, Taehyung, sat on the chair with his wine glass in hand, stroking himself. “That’s not my name princess.” Jungkook slaps her ass, thrusting a bit harder. “Ah- daddy! I’m so sorry daddy! Please go faster! Please!” The man behind her pushed her face against the wall, then wrapped his veiny arm around her neck. “My little princess is enjoying this, isn’t she? Doesn’t it feel amazing?”

“Daddy, y-your cock is the best cock! P-please cum in me! Please, I-I need your thick, sweet cum in me!” She chokes out, enjoying every inch of Jungkook’s monster cock. “Taehyung!” Jungkook calls out. “Would you like to join us?” Taehyung clears his throat and gets up. He takes one more sip of the wine, before putting it down and spitting on all cock. “Get on the bed on all fours.” Jungkook lets her go and she quickly crawls onto the bed, waiting for her masters. She wasn’t allowed to make eye contact with them, so she kept her head low, but still eyed their beautiful cocks.

“Play with yourself, little one” she looks up at Taehyung, confused. “B-but you said to never touch myself. I-I don’t want to get in trouble.” She says innocently. “I’m telling you now. You listen to me and me only, understand little girl?” Taehyung gets in front of her face and pulls her hair back, so she could look at him. “You know daddy hates to repeat himself.” Taehyung flashes his fangs and sends a sadistic smile to her. “I-I’m sorry daddy, I understand!” While making eye contact with Taehyung, she shoved two fingers inside of herself. The vampire standing in front of her slapped her face with his cock a few times. “Thrust your fingers a little faster princess.” She moves her fingers faster and Taehyung slaps her cheek with his cock again.

“Open your mouth, little princess.” Y/N opens her mouth, taking in Tae’s fat tip. Taehyung fondles with her hair, gently pushing it back, out of her face, while thrusting his cock in and out. Oh boy- Jungkook could’ve came just by sight. She brushes her teeth against his tip and her tongue swirls all around. Her saliva soaked Taehyung’s cock, which made him chuckle. “You want daddy to cum down your throat, princess? Keep fucking doing that!” He throws his head back, showing off his Adam's apple. The older vampire starts thrusting a little faster, making the girl gag and tear up.

She chokes around his cock and curls her fingers inside her, clenching around them. Jungkook comes in from behind, with one hand stroking his cock, his other hand removes her fingers out of her warm, wet pussy and he shoves in his own. The younger vampire imagined his fingers as his cock. Therefore, he recklessly started thrusting them, whilst the human chokes around the older’s cock. She was the first to cum, causing her to moan around Taehyung’s cock, sending vibrations around it. Taehyung lets out a low moan, which the girl was a sucker (literally) for. She sucked harder, wanting Taehyung to cum down her throat. Y/N craved his cum. It was an addiction.

Soon, she got what she wanted when Taehyung finally cummed in her mouth and she gulped it all down just like water, except it was thick and sweet. She smiles and looks at Taehyung while drinking all of it like a good princess. Jungkook behind her was burning with jealousy. The amount of affection Taehyung had received from her, made his blood boil. “Remember little girl..” he slaps her ass then spits into her little asshole. “You have TWO daddies.” He lays another spank on her sore ass. “I-I remember daddy.” She quickly turns around and sits on his dick, kissing him deeply. Jungkook sets both of his hands on her hot ass cheek while she bounced on his cock. The younger vampire pulls away and bites into her neck, sucking a bit of blood out. “Ahh- daddy! N-not too hard. It kinda hurts.” She rests her jaw on his shoulder and Taehyung sits on the bed, pulling her away. “My turn.”

He lays her down and kisses her, while sliding his cock right in. “You want me to fuck my babies into you?” She excitedly nods her head, ‘yes’ and wraps her legs around Taehyung’s waist, wanting to take his whole, hard, fat cock. “Please please please! Shove it in me and call me your little whore, daddy”

“Oh, my little whore likes it rough?” Taehyung's hand lands on her neck and applies pressure, as he pounds his rock hard cock into her, making her scream. He didn’t think twice before pounding her at an inhumane speed, while choking her harder. He spits down on her pussy and keeps going harder into her. “You little bitch. You love this. Dirty cunt, all you want to do is be pounded by us.” Jungkook quickly gets on top of her face and shoves his cock far down her throat, demanding her to play with his balls. “Suck! Suck you little whore! This is what you waited for! You love it when your daddies fuck you rough and raw right?”

She hums around his cock, rolling her eyes back. Her pussy throbbed around Taehyung’s cock, which was somehow managing to go even faster. Both of the males start grunting and growling, until Jungkook gives in, cumming deep down her throat. He takes himself out and spits into her mouth, then slaps her. “You like that? You like me slapping your dirty, whore face?”

“Yes! I love it daddy!” Jungkook smiles and gets off of her. Y/N walls squeezed his cock, and before she knew it, her body gave in and squirted around the man. “Owwiee- slow down daddy! I-it’s stinging!” She cries out, moaning a lot louder. “You did this to yourself whore! You wanted me to be rough!”

She arches her back, tempting Jungkook to slap her tits, which he ended up giving into. He viciously sucks on her nipples and bites down on them a couple of times, just to hear her scream. “Please! I’m gonna cum again!” “Then do it! Cum for me slut, cum for your daddies?” Hot tears ran down her cheeks as her lower abdomen tightly shuts and she forcefully pushed her cum out of her. Taehyung’s seeds shoot deep inside of her, making her pussy more wet, and warm.

“Get on your side.” Taehyung fangs appear, scaring the girl and she immediately gets on her side and waits. They start speaking in another language and at the same time, look down at the girl, indicating that they were talking about her. “D-did I do something wrong?” She asks. “You’ve been ignoring Jungkook.”

“No I haven’t!” She slaps her hand over her mouth and apologizes. “I mean, I’m sorry daddy! I-I really didn’t mean to ignore you. Will you forgive me?” Jungkook gets behind her and lays down. “Depends, what will you do for me?” The younger male hints and brushes his cock on her butthole. She gasped, knowing what he wanted. “U-um, I’m not sure.” Before she could finish her sentence, Jungkook cut her off.

“Are you saying no to me? To your daddy?” She remains quiet and still under him. “Cat got your tongue? Did it just hit you that I own you?” He holds both of her arms back and slowly pushes his cock in her asshole, making her cry. She leans forward, hoping Taehyung would help, but he didn’t. Instead he also laid down in front of her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and slammed into her pussy. “I-It hurts!” Taehyung hushes her and holds her tighter, “this is gonna hurt.” Jungkook pulls her back into his embrace and goes off on her ass while holding her down.

Shocked, Y/N didn't scream immediately, but when she felt that stretch in her hole, she started to wail. Jungkook puts his arm around her neck, stopping her from crying. “If you really love your daddies, you’ll shut up and take it! You wanted us to be rough, you got it. Now take it because there's no going back!” Jungkook whispers in her ear behind her, grunting at times. “So fucking tight! I can feel Taehyung’s cock in you!”

They let the girl bawl her eyes out underneath them until she finally got used to it. She pokes her head out and opens her eyes. They see Taehyung’s eyes right away and he smiles. “Does it feel better now?”

“Y-yes” her tears were constant and uncontrollable. The overstimulation and sting in her core, ass and lips was making her cry. The two men didn’t slow down, ‘helping’ her situation more. The skin slapping was incredibly loud and it turned both of the vampires on too. Jungkook takes his cock out of her ass and pushes it with Taehyung’s cock. His cock forced it’s way inside her pussy, slowing down Taehyung because of the tightless. Y/N screams and cries into her pillow but doesn’t tell them to stop, because they’ll get mad at her. She claws Taehyung’s back, losing feeling in every limb.

The two men don’t mutter a word and continue doing it. Jungkook saw her distressed state and took it out. He slammed back into her ass and she mentally thanked him. “I’m gonna cum again!” She whispers out, weakly. “WAIT!” They both growl and pant, going even harder into her, chasing after their high. “I can’t daddy! I truly can’t!” She whimpers. “Okay, okay cum now! Cum now princess.” Jungkook hissed behind her.

Jungkook and Taehyung flooded her insides with cum, while she trembled under the two. She cums around Taehyung but she didn't stop there because suddenly, she felt a wave push throughout her body, releasing every muscle. Her legs shook for a couple minutes as she tried to catch her breath. Her tears stopped and the two vampires watched her have her first orgasm.

She finally blinks and Jungkook hugs her tiny body. He starts kissing and praising her for taking them so well. Taehyung then snatched her onto his chest and kissed her lips. “You did such a good job, little one. Daddy’s so proud of you.” Jungkook wraps his arms around her and pulls her back into his embrace and Taehyung lays on his side, facing her. The two vampires wait for her to fall asleep, then close their eyes after.

That’s what happens after 12:39

———

Not edited like always😙

Xoxo, N❣️

[mtherhino]

One side, Two lives

Chapter 11

That’s all I needed to hear

First Previous Next

Warnings: panic attack, blood, mild self harm, suicidal and self deprecating thoughts and swearing

“I’m so freaking stupid!” Roman shouted as soon as he rose up in his room. He dropped to the floor, his eyes shut tightly as they started over flowing with tears that he had held back earlier. He had been so mad and hurt after the wedding but that doesn’t excuse what he said!

“What was I thinking! Why did I say that to De-Janus! Making fun of a side’s name?! God dammit that’s one of the worst things I could say!” Roman yelled at himself as he pulled at his hair. The creative side grabbed both of his arms in a death grip as if he were trying to physically hold himself together. His breathing was becoming erratic but the prince didn’t pay it any mind as thoughts continued to swirl in his head.

           I was so angry I caused Patton to have a meltdown! Janus was only tying to help and I just kept treating him like a villain and a threat! Hell he felt the need to protect Thomas from me and Patton! At this point Roman was gripping at his arms so badly that his nails had broken the skin. He didn’t even notice that his sleeves where starting to turn a bit red.

           Janus was right. He’s always been right! I am the evil twin. The creative side thought sadly. I mean even Patton agreed with him and he’s the one that created the concept in the first place so it has to be true!

Well of course its true. It’s not that big of a surprise, you’ve always been a disappointment. Roman’s head snapped up when he heard the voice. It didn’t sound like just a voice in his head this time, it sounded like someone standing in the room right next to him, it sounded so much more real.

Of course I’m real! As real as what you said back there. You’re such an idiot by the way, saying that, not only to Janus, but in front of Patton? I didn’t think you could get anymore stupid but I guess I was wrong. The voice seemed to chant in his ear. Roman covered his ears with his slightly bloody hands, his breathing becoming even more frantic. He felt as if the walls of his room where caving in on him and there was no way out.

           I have to get out of here, he thought, I have to get away form him! The prince looked around and spotted his closet door. Without thinking the prince got up and ran, opening the door and sprinting into the imagination. He wasn’t sure if he remembered to close the door but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran deeper and deeper into the woods of the mystical terrain.

           Unfortunately even as he ran the voice didn’t let up.

I mean would it have been that hard to just listen to the others? Even I’m surprised at how egotistical you were back there! Hahaha! The voice didn’t stop for a moment and Roman didn’t either. He felt bushes and branches tear and rip at his prince costume but he didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was getting away form that dam voice!

           Roman didn’t stop running until his legs eventually gave in on him and he hit the ground, he’s knees getting scrapped in the process. The prince finally took a moment to look at his surroundings. He was somewhere very rocky and its didn’t look like there was any foliage in the area. A heavy fog had set in wherever he was so he couldn’t see more than a foot away from him. He carefully stood up, his legs still shaking.

           Where even am I? This doesn’t look like mine or Remus’s part of the imagination? As Roman thought that the fog  began to clear. The creative side looked up, horrified as he saw the mouth of a giant cave. He knew exactly where in the imagination he was in now. Roman began backing away form the cave, memories he’d rather forget coming to mind.

How could I come back?! I have to get out of here now! The prince turned to run away but tripped on a rock that he didn’t see.

“Ha! You’re so pathetic, its no wonder all the others hate you!” The voice shouted.

“Shut up” Roman whispered back as he covered his ears.

“You cant even do you’re one job right! Your useless and everyone knows it, especially Thomas!”

“Shut up.” The fog started to swirl around the side angrily.

“There’s no way Virgil could ever care about a weakling like you! He’ll just abandon you in the end, especially when he finds out what you did today!”

“I said shut up.” Romans voice now held a hard edge to it.

“Even your brother will leave you once he realizes he’s been wasting his time caring about you!”

“Shut up!” The fog had become a storm at this point, Roman kneeling in the eye of it.

“YOU WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH! YOU COULD CHANGE EVERY LITTLE THING ABOUT YOU AND YOU’LL STILL BE A WORTHLESS NOTHING! A BURDEN TO EVERYONE AROUND YOU!”

“SHUT UP” Roman yelled as he stood up and faced the storm around him, the voice having become the thunder. “DON’T YOU THINK IV BEEN TRYING TO BE GOOD ENOUGH?! IV BEEN TRYING MY WHOLE DAM LIFE TO BE THE PERSON THEY WANT ME TO BE!”

“AND YOU’VE FAILED! ALL YOU DO IS CAUSE PAIN TO THE ONES AROUND YOU! YOU CANT BE WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO BE! HELL! YOU CANT EVEN BE WHAT YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE! YOU’RE NOT THOMAS’S HERO!”

Roman felt as if he’d just been stabbed in the gut. All the other things the voice said, he’d known all that, he’d just been trying to deny them, but today had confirmed it. He was no longer Thomas’s hero, the one thing that mattered most to him. The thing that made him keep trying to be better. Now all Thomas will sees when he looks at him is a villain.

The stormed died down as Roman fell to his knees, completely broken. The voice spoke again, this time much softer. The tone would have almost been comforting if not for the words it spoke.

“It would be better for everyone if you just disappeared.” Romans face held a sad smile as he heard those words.

“Your right. They would all be better off if I was gone. I wish I could just disappear.” You could practically hear the smile in the voice’s next words.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

           Roman realized his mistake too late.

“No! Wai-” but before he could finish his sentence a golden chain wrapped round his arm. Roman struggled and tried to pull it off but to no avail. Before he knew it more and more chains continued to wrap around his limbs and drag him into the cave. Roman tried to resist but he was in no state to fight. The cave was much deeper than it appeared to be and by the time the creative side’s back hit the wall he was in near complete darkness. A figure started to emerge in front of him and Roman could do nothing but stair wide eyed in fear.

           By the time the thing in front of him completely took form the figure looked more like Roman than his own twin did. The only physical difference was a streak of black in his bangs and his outfit change. The thing wore a similar costume to that of the prince’s except the white was replaced with black and a long golden cape followed behind him. The insignia on his shoulder also had a golden crack in it going right down the middle.

           The figure took a deep breath and sighed.

“It’s nice to finally have a body again, its been ages since I’ve actually been able to walk around.” The figure opened his eyes and instead of the apple green Roman’s were they were a dark red that seemed to glow ever so softly golden. Roman gasped and simply continued to stare at the side in front of him.

“Do you honestly have nothing to say to me Roman? Are you not happy to see one of your oldest friend? The side sneered at the captured prince.

“I thought you were gone.” Roman said as he now glared at the other side. “I thought me and Remus got rid of you a long time ago.” The side smiled a cruel grin and laughed.

“You actually thought you got rid of me? Ha! I may have just been reduced to a voice in the back of your head but I was never gone.” The side pulled out golden sword and twirled it around.

“And now that you’re finally out of the way, I can finally take full creative control for myself.” The  figure started to walk out  of the cave as Roman struggled even harder to get out of his chains, he couldn’t risk letting him go and him hurting Remus, he had to do something! Not being able to get out of the chains Roman tried his last option, talking.

“PRIDE!”

           The side finally looked back at the sound of his name.

“Please,” Roman said, practically begging at this point, “please don’t hurt the others. Your conflict is with me so jut leave them out of this!” Roman yelled desperately while Pride smiled cruelly.

“You care a lot about them don’t you Roman.” He said in a smooth tone. His eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter and his smile grew ever so slightly.

“That’s exactly why I’m going to make their lives a living hell.”

           Pride continued waking even a Roman yelled at him to leave the others out of it. He smiled as he reached the open fields of the imagination and saw the closet door.

“You’ve had you chance at being in charge long enough Roman, now, its my turn.”

***

Remus knew something was wrong. He had just been drawing gore in his room when he felt as if the world had shifted. What in this horrible world was that? The duke thought to himself. Although he would usually ignore something like this part of his mind told him that something important just happened, and he needed to find out what it was.

Maybe Roman will have a clue whats wrong, he was summoned earlier to talk to Thomas right? Maybe thats why I feel like someone stabbed my brain with a rusted spoon? The creative side decided he would investigate and started heading over to Roman’s room. There was a heavy feeling of unease went he got to the light sides area which confused him.

Was the argument that bad? Usually this place is filled up with disgusting rainbow and sunshine feelings but now its just, dull. Nevertheless Remus continued forward and tried to open his twins room but was slightly surprised when he found it locked. Roman almost never locks his door. The duke was starting to worry about his brother so he sunk into his twin’s room, not bothering to knock of course.

The creative side was surprised when he didn’t find his twin but a much less energetic room than on average. Usually Roman’s room radiates creative and hopeful thoughts but today a feeling of hurt and anger covered the room. Ok so somethings definitely wrong here, and where the hell is Roman? The dark side thought as he looked around the room. Remus spotted something that might help him in his endeavors.

There on the window sill sat Alexander the venus fly trap, shaking like he was in  freezing cold weather. Remus crossed the room and petted the little plant.

“Hey little guy, do you know whats going on because I have absolutely no clue.” Alexander leaned into Remus’s hand as if he was trying to hide. Remus only became more concerned. He created Alexander to be a strong and brave creature, so if something scares him, it can’t be anything good. For the first time the duke noticed that Roman’s door to the imagination was open.

           Ok that’s definitely not a good sign. Before the creative side could go though the door he saw a humanoid figure approaching. Remus breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey Ro, you really got me worried there for a while.” The duke failed to notice that Alexander tried to hide even more as the side stepped though the door.

“Ha,” the figure said as it finally stepped tough the door, “sorry Remus, but I’m not Roman.” Pride smiled as he saw Remus’s face turn white as the duke recognized him. The dark side jumped back as he summoned his morning star.

           “Wheres Roman?!” Remus shouted. Pride laughed at him.

“Your dear brother is gone, and soon you will be too.” The new side said as he drew his sword. Remus growled in pure anger and charged forward at the side. Pride dodged Remus swings easily and landed many blows. The creative side wasn’t in the right head space to fight as he worried about what Pride could have done to his brother. In a matter of minutes Pride had managed to disarm the duke and cornered him, the room nearly being destroyed in their fight.

           “You’re nearly as pathetic as Roman and I didn’t even think that was possible.” Pride laughed as Remus growled at the fact that someone would dare talk about his twin in such a way.

“You’re just a stupid little beast. Actually,” Pride said as a smile made its way onto his face, “that gives me an idea.” The red clad side snapped his fingers and Remus let out a scream of.              pain and shut his eyes tightly.

When he opened them he looked up at his now much taller foe. The duke raised his hands to look at himself and saw that they had been transform into, green tentacles?! Remus tried to curse but he could only make small clicking sounds with his beak. Pride chuckle and using his powers crafted a tank on the still standing desk. He then proceeded to pick up the green octopus and chucked it into the tank, Remus slowly sinking to the bottom and as a lid was placed over the inclosure.

Pride, now having full creative control, fixed the room with a wave of his hand. The room took up a much darker aesthetic with black and gold being the main colors. The new side smiled at his work. Things were finally going his way after so long of waiting. A dark smile came onto his face as he whispered to himself,

“Long live the new king.”

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

[siren1song]

could I get some,,, um,,, platonic dark sides angst with a happy ending as virgil makes up with his old family? maybe? please? ~imagine anon

You know the way to my heart, Imagine.

Edit because I’m midway through this now: god damn it it got long. I’m committed to doing this right so i’m not shortening it but god damn it.

Also man I hope this is halfway decent, I’m not usually an angst writer.

( @romansleftshoulderpad asked me to tag him ksdfjg)

Home Again

Virgil hesitated in front of the building, looking up at the apartment complex with a nervous frown. He hasn’t been here in years, having run away from his dad and his brother (adopted brother, he wonders if Remus still tries to make the distinction) to go to college, travel the world, figure himself out.

It wasn’t like they’d been bad to him or anything, Virgil had just… needed to get away from the cramped apartment and the same people he’d seen his whole life who’d known him as someone entirely different before he’d left.

Briefly, Virgil wondered if his dad or brother would recognize him with the the undercut and purple hair and the weight he’d gained with the food he’d explored as he bounced from place to place with people who liked his company while he tried to figure himself out.

With a deep breath, he stepped forward and pressed his finger against the buzzer for his dad’s apartment.

“Who is it?”

Virgil swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat upon hearing his dad’s voice.

“Uh… hey, dad.”

The speaker was quiet, but Virgil heard the signature click of the door unlocking and he hurried to pull it open.

The elevator ride to the basement was almost suffocating, with how quiet it was. He would’ve taken the stairs, if Virgil didn’t have suitcase with him. The speakers that used to play old pop music on loop must’ve given out.

Walking to his dad’s apartment door felt like a walk to the gallows to Virgil. He felt this smothering sense of doom hanging over his head, cause fuck his dad and brother must be so pissed at him. Virgil had left six years ago with nothing more than a letter saying he’d be fine but wanting to see what’s out there. And then he just didn’t keep in contact with them.

Not that they didn’t try. For months after he’d initially left, they’d blown up his phone almost daily. Begging him to come or to at least call them to let them know he was okay. He never did, and sometimes he still got drunk texts from his brother wondering where he was and if he still cared about them.

Those texts are honestly why Virgil was here right now, that and his current boyfriend convincing him to at least try to reconnect, regardless of his fears.

He was hovering in front of the door now, chewing on one of his nails before a chip of black nail polish made its way into his mouth and he screwed his face up in disgust, pulling his hand away.

Here goes nothing, Virgil guessed.

Three firm taps against the door, and then Virgil was waiting. He found it oddly symbolic, the way the wait seemed to drag on. Whether or not his dad would be willing to let him into his family again.

Fuck, being a writer was making him overthink this, this is stupid.

Virgil was about to turn away, to go back to the hotel where his boyfriend was staying for the time being, when the door opened and suddenly his limbs were locking up.

God damn it, he was still shorter than his already really fucking short dad.

“A-” his dad stopped when Virgil instinctively flinched at the start of his dead-name.

“…Name?”

Virgil gave a sheepish but grateful smile, pulling a sleeve further over his hand so he could rub his fingers over the textured fabric of the jacket cuff.

“Virgil,” he answered, getting a nod in response as his dead stepped aside.

He hesitated, because he always hesitated, but he really wanted to talk to his family again, so Virgil stepped inside the tiny apartment.

“So uh… where’s Remus?”

“He moved out two years ago. Should still come by for dinner tonight, though.”

Virgil flinched at the dig, not missing the bitterness in his fathers voice. He was getting a feeling this conversation wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. Not that he came in here expecting his dad to be all smiles to see him again, he always was in the habit of holding long grudges.

It was quiet for a few moments, Virgil struggling to come up with something to say.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Virgil snapped his eyes to his dad’s, taking note of the prosthetic eye being a new style. Was that a snake pupil? He didn’t answer the question, brows furrowing in confusion.

“I mean, I would sure hope so, seeing as you’re finally home after six years, but I thought I’d ask. Whatever you were looking for, did you find it?”

Feeling his heart sinking in his chest, Virgil looked to the floor. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, shoulders hunching forward as he picked out his words.

“I… think so.”

There was a beat of silence, and then footsteps, a chair scraping against the floor, a soft thump of weight settling.

“You think? It’s been six years, Virgil, and you can’t even come home positive you’ve become who you wanted to be?”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, wincing at the question because honestly, his dad was right. Virgil really should be more sure of himself by now.

“I’ve found out… a lot, about myself,” Virgil starts, continuing to avoid looking at his dad, “obvious things aside, I learned I really like writing, and that I’m pretty good at it. Learned I don’t really like ocean travel, that I hate air travel even more, but I think Europe is pretty cool and South America is even better.”

While Virgil talked, he looked around the room. He noted the pictures, tried not to be hurt at how few of them had him in them even if he knew seeing himself before he started transitioning would be difficult to look at.

“I figured out I was gay, after the whole gender crisis. And I learned what it felt like to love and be loved,” he said.

Virgil would’ve continued, but he made the mistake of looking at his dad then and seeing the hurt and anger in his good eye, practically melting any affection or caring that might’ve been there before away from his expression.

“So you don’t think we loved you?”

“What? No that’s not-”

“Really? Because that certainly sounds like what you were saying.”

Virgil felt his throat close up, and he shut his eyes as he struggled to breathe through it. It wasn’t the type of breathing difficulty he experienced when he was having a panic attack, but God did the difference really matter? It hurt just the same.

“No, dad. That’s not what I was saying. I was... I’ve had so many flings, in the last several years. Some of them were disasters, others were like walking on clouds until the clouds ran out. I just-” Virgil sighed, running his fingers through his hair, pushing his bangs back and letting them fall in front of his eyes as his hand moved to the back of his head.

“Listen, I thought about you guys all the time. I’d honestly only planned to stay gone for a year, but when that time stamp had come closer I got... I got so fucking scared. I’d basically cut you guys out at that point, and I was worried you would turn me away before I got the chance to explain myself.”

Virgil’s exhaustion was suddenly overwhelming, and he had to pull out a chair from the table to collapse in before his legs gave out from under him.

He wondered if the silence would ever stop drowning him.

“I wouldn’t have. Still won’t, if the fact you’re currently sitting at my kitchen table means anything,” his dad started, making Virgil look up at him with tired eyes, “I was- am pissed. It’s hard not to be bitter when my baby g- ah... when my son up and leaves two nights after he graduates high school with no warning and no goodbye outside of a letter I found on his pillow.”

Virgil felt his lower lip wobble as tears built in his eyes, and he clamped it between teeth in an attempt to keep himself from crying.

“Virgil I missed you so much for so long. At one point I had almost convinced myself you had died somehow.”

His dad slumped over the table, putting his head in his hands to keep his face from view.

Virgil rubbed the tears away from his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as he quietly moved seats to sit right next to his dad, leaning against him the way he used to when he was overwhelmed and just needed the physical reminded someone was there.

He felt his dad let out a watery laugh, shifting until he was able to wrap his arms tight around Virgil’s shoulders, nuzzling his face into the fluff that was Virgil’s hair.

“I’m still mad at you, and you know I’m going to be for a while, but... if you want to stay for dinner, I’m sure Remus would be ecstatic to see you after he gives up trying to murder you for leaving.”

Virgil snorted, his own arms already wrapped around his dad’s torso.

“Still destructive, then?” he asked, relishing the contact with the older man, contact he’d been longing for for years.

“I think he’s gotten worse as he’s gotten older, honestly.”

There was still a lot of issues Virgil had to talk over with his family, and his boyfriend would definitely want to meet them no matter how much Virgil would inevitably try to steer him off it because his family was unsettling at the best of times and Patton was a puffball.

But at least he’d started mending the gap he’d torn between them.

[hedonisthierophant]

Unveiled eyes and bloodless lips -A skarsgard multiverse thing.

A universe of many Bills, a couple AHAs, and a few others.

@grandpa-sweaters You asked for fic with The Kid and instead I somehow came up with this monstrosity. I’m not sure if you’ve ever read my writing before but I’m sorry.

Dedicated to my literary soulmate @ill-skillsgard I hope you don’t hate it.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, gore, spit kink, cuckoldry, degradation, injury, death.

   Unveiled eyes and bloodless lips

The witch had lost this game long before she even started playing, the final result such a foregone conclusion that it might be more accurate in fact to say she had lost before she had even been born. Forces much larger than her, to call them even titanic in scope would be an understatement, had been attending to the moves of the board since time immemorial. To say her fate such as it was had been decided back then is to grievously misstate the situation. Her exact destiny was fiercely contested on the board of play, it could’ve turned out completely differently, unfolding along anyone of the infinite myriad of paths of kismet. But her doom? That became inevitable she drew the attention of the game’s players. Naturally she remained unaware of the inescapable quality of her demise, she fought against it until the very last moment, her ferocious zeal, her skill and talent, all of it amounted to naught, For what hope does in an insect have against flood? Through no fault of her own, her perspective on this eons-long contest she had the misfortune of being prescribed to enter was…limited. In actuality the word “limited” doesn’t begin to convey the magnitude of her ignorance, imagine if you will placing your eye at a keyhole and attempting to catch a glimpse of a room darkened to pitch black. Some less astute souls might say that her involvement in the affair was rather like bringing a deaf person to the symphony but you dear reader know better, I should hope. Someone who cannot hear will have a different experience with music to be sure, but an experience they will have, the concepts on display remain within the realm of understanding. In our case a young woman became the toy of forces so far beyond her ken that she was to them as an amoeba might be to one of us beneath the prying lens of a microscope. As you may have surmised the tragedy that brings my voyeuristic audience to me unfolded slowly, spanning two lifetimes. Of course, this is only slow from the mortal point of view, to the beings that brought this about such a timeframe was less than the blink of an eye might be to us, for their machinations make glaciers seem to move with haste. Oh yes, they lack celerity but in exchange their actions carry the gravity of unquestionable certainty. However, I have indulged myself long enough. It is time that I recount, to the best of my ability the story which is brought you here today…whilst I remain able to do so.

           Her mother was possessed of a nearly singular lack of the talent that had been at the disposal to members of her family as far back as records would go. She did retain the gift of foresight. In the hands of anyone else this boon guaranteed an interesting life, if not necessarily a good one. The ability to see the future meant that so much of the world could be bent to your whim, fortunes raised, mistakes avoided, enemies destroyed before they even had the opportunity to transgress. For her mother though the only thing her visions brought was infinite sadness. She was many months pregnant you see. The result of an impetuous liaison with an excitable and impassioned thief several years who junior who quite literally stumbled into her lap, betrayed by his gangly limbs at a luxurious hotel bar he happened to be casing. He must have absconded with a waiter’s uniform for nothing about his outfit fit his exquisitely lanky form properly. Remembering the bowtie that hung limply and sideways from his collar still brings a smile to her face. The knave proclaimed she was the love of his life, his goddess and that he would devote his life to securing her happiness. It was quite a scene the tableau made certainly more…unconventional due to the fact that she was celebrating her first wedding anniversary at and sitting directly across from her husband at the time. Their marriage had been mostly a business arrangement, not entirely loveless but more cordial than intimate, but she thinks she could have grown to love him for the smirk that wound its way across his face after the blubbering young would be waiter realized his presence. She recalls watching the scene like a member of the audience at the theater, her face impassive, one brow raised. Her husband had a reputation for an incredibly violent temper, if you ever witnessed it though but she could never convince herself to entirely discredit the rumors. Both she and the scoundrel were frozen, he in fear, she in surprise. Her husband stood up, declare that their food had been awful and they were taking the waiter as recompense. Her husband, she couldn’t stand the pain that thinking his name brought even all these years later. He had made his fortune as proprietor of the “last heir to the great circuses of old, the man was a showman to his core and could have sold sin to the most pious of people. Sitting in the stands watching that man bewitch everyone around her, she certain she could’ve learned to love him had she been given more time with him. Her brother-in-law put a stop to any happy fantasies she might’ve entertained though, fratricide had a way of casting a pall over such things. Death took him from her, but that night he had been so very alive. He threw the reprobate onto their sumptuous marriage bed and ordered her in a voice that was equal parts chilling and gleeful to fuck him within an inch of his life. She did, hips canting madly as she struggled to match the thief’s exuberance for all he was worth, she was the only thing that grounded him as he shuddered through orgasm after improbable orgasm. His soulful eyes stared up at her as though she had hung the stars. After one particularly fierce climax she turned to look at her husband across the darkened room for all the while he had been orchestrating the performance as though being its sole audience member also burdened him with the role of conductor, she may have been having extraordinary sex but for all that the two of them were just  toys for her husband. He controlled them with such precision a note here,  a whisper there, advice for the two of them ghosting across the room. He was a master puppeteer, they may have lacked physical strings but that did not stop him. He ruled over them with the same exactness he employed with his beloved elephants, compelling them through routines to astound and amaze basking in the dazzled worship of the onlookers. That night though, he was taking full advantage of being the only onlooker. She still remembers the manic smile on his face and how his hair looked like flame in the moonlight spilling through the window as hysterical (euphoric) laughter echoed off the walls of their manor, as though her husband were the only one in on some wonderfully hilarious joke of cosmic proportions. Looking back on it, he may well have been. Following their final crescendo as her husband’s euphoria slowly waned into giggling, the criminal professed his love for her for the umpteenth time and begged her to come away with him to Florida, promising to dedicate the rest of his days to making her happy. His stirring gaze brimmed with imploring tears he unabashedly let fall from his eyes, his voice quavering beneath the immense wait of his need to keep her in his life. The scales she used to weigh her options were suddenly dashed as her husband took a great gasping breath, sprang up from his seated position in the sumptuous armchair he’d been occupying and began to flit around the room gathering things to him, mania rolling off him in waves. He’d hoisted the nude crook off her with little apparent effort despite being smaller than the rangy younger man. He spun him around and  slapped the sex drunk visitor’s bare ass as the man squawked in surprise and indignation, pale globes of flesh flushing an angry shade of red and leaving a print in the form of her husband’s hand at the sting. Her husband crouched for on his haunches for a moment to admire his impromptu work of art. She couldn’t see him but she could clearly picture his eyes growing wide with fascination as the mark took shape, his hands twitched with restrained desire, she could practically feel him warring with the impulse to throw him onto their marriage bed yet again, but this time for the purpose of sowing sharper and deeper blossoms of suffering across the entirety of the canvas that was the other man’s body. Disturbed smile still in place as he ground his teeth he muttered to himself in hushed tones. “No Jer, be a good boy. Almost done now, you can do it. Just gotta ape him. He straightened the conflict within him tucked away beneath the impeccable veneer of the consummate showman’s mask. “Would that I could have joined you crazy kids. I’d have loved to use all my fun little tricks on a tall glass of water like you. I’d have driven you crazy, stark raving mad really, shown you just how wild gingers can get, I’m talking showing you where the animals go.” He said with a grin that was only matched in lascivious by it’s lunacy and air of danger. She was certain the young man with the innocence and coordination of a newborn fawn would not have survived such an encounter He clapped the sex drunk young man on the back, sensually garbed him in a ludicrously expensive silken kimono, handed him a duffel bag of cash as though he had one standing by for just this occasion. That torn expression came over his face yet again, this time he surrendered to his urges. Quite suddenly he brought their lips together with the force of a devouring hunger, grinding his crotch against the other man’s leg. Judging by the surprised sound that issued from their visitor, her husband’s tongue had embarked on an enthusiastic exploration of the other man’s mouth. Then as suddenly as the whirlwind of passion had come, it stilled. He stepped back, a deranged smile lighting up his face. A single thin and determined cord of saliva still bound them together in remembrance of their embrace, her husband broke it with his middle finger, and then brought the digit to the other man’s lips. He sucked on it with a dazed expression for a moment before her husband withdrew with out warning. He clapped him on his back, said in perhaps the most jovial tone a cuckold has ever used with his competitor “I’ve always loved a good fireworks show.” and sent the befuddled young paramour on his way with a wink. The next day her husband left on “family business” to some crime on the east coast submerged seven layers deep in corruption and crime, this business ended in his demise. She remembers looking at him in the casket, smirk fixed in place as though even in death he had gotten the last laugh after all.

That had all been eight months ago exactly. Now here she was at a comfortable cruising altitude of 30,000 feet returning from a sojourn to the place where so many of her sisters had famously died along with innocents and hapless victims of circumstance. She buried her husband in the cesspool city and then communed with nature and the spirits of the sisters who came before her in Salem, now all that was left for her to do was return to her family’s modest estate in Canada and continue puzzling over the odd provision in her husband’s will for any child of hers regardless of whether that child was part of their union or not. The trouble began in earnest on that flight which should’ve been an entirely unremarkable trip from Salem to Halifax.  The first unusual occurrence was that her water broke and quite suddenly she was in the process of bringing a life into the world some 2000 stories off the ground suspended in what she’d always considered to be fragile contraptions held aloft by little more than a prayer. Her situation was odd and certainly less than ideal but not unheard of. The flight attendants rushed her to the back of the plane and by what many would like to think was a happy accident there were several members of an obstetrics team present aboard that very flight. The delivery was much more difficult than expected for the culmination of what had been by every reckoning a model pregnancy, with nary an over-enthusiastic kick. Whatever creature was inside of her head suddenly gained the claws of the most wicked of fairytale crones, and the weight of a giant every movement brought only piercing agony and precious little relief. Her screams echoed through the craft that was a dedication to mankind’s hubris as her pain intensified so too did an incredibly unforeseen bout of bad weather, the radar which just hours ago prior to takeoff had promised skies wonderful for flying was now proving itself to be a liar. It was as though passing above some insignificant little town in Maine that caused the storm spring up around them. Their vehicle was buffeted from every direction by winds and frost that were unseasonable even for harsh winter in upper North America. Around her people cursed and prayed, screamed and shouted as the pilots fought to deliver their charges to the ground in the same amount of pieces as they left it, rather than in so many more as was becoming increasingly likely. The town against all sense did have its own infinitesimally small airstrip, it wasn’t until many years later that she would begin to understand just how long ago the pieces had been set in play. As they began their harried descent people were struck by falling luggage and other debris that comes when you compress the lives of hundred people into the space of an aircraft and then turn it into a topsy-turvy. Some were killed, she even took a piece of glass to the jaw but any object that got within striking distance of the newborn child swaddled in a washcloth suddenly lost all momentum and dropped to the floor, this sort of power was most definitely beyond her she had no gift for telekinetics but she was simply too alarmed at the gravity of their situation as Earth’s own gravity began to make its power and its displeasure at having been flaunted known to the passengers. Someone with much more than was at her disposal was looking out for her daughter. And so, their airplane limped down from the sky thoroughly chastened by Zeus and his ilk for its trespass into their domain and Moira and her mother crashed into Castle Rock.

Moira and her mother had always been considered oddities by the town. Two outsiders literally cast out of the heavens and dropped into the midst of unwelcoming townsfolk. Her mother had made the best of the situation, for she had tried, made a very valiant attempt to leave this town but the moment that she crossed the boundaries she was wrapped in agony which would not abate until she took a step back into the town, this phenomenon persisted whether she tried by car or on foot and she refused to give air travel another attempt. She was no fool, she knew well that some incredible force was bent on keeping her and her daughter entrapped in this little nothing of a hamlet. She may not have had the gifts that her family had taken for granted but anyone could make rituals work with enough determination, she used her dead husband’s well to secure a small cottage on the outskirts of town for her daughter and set about turning it into a mystic fortress brimming with occult defenses. Oh the villagers looked at her askance when she went asking strange herbs or when rumors, true in this case, swirled about that she desecrated graves looking for bones or danced in the moonlight bared skin flashing as she circled her home and chanted in forgotten tongues. Castle Rock had a history with which is in their neighbor town of Salem’s Lot you see, they knew the signs even if many had forgotten precisely what they meant. When her mother realized she was potentially in the territory of other practitioners her theory became that a powerful coven existed here and they wanted her for as of yet unknown reasons, but the more she doubt the more it seemed that any true coven had long since died out or moved on to more fitting pastures. The occult in community the town consisted of one or two charlatans, and a few like herself with barely an iota of true power between them, capable of little more than the simplest cantrips, certainly not the massive feats of magic required to both down and trap her here. The first night she performed a ritual of crying beseeching a cracked bowl she’d stolen from the motel to connect her with her mother. Her family had always been a nest of vipers they were immune to their own poison but that did not stop the backstabbing that took place as soon as one was no longer able to defend oneself. Her mother made it clear imperious tones bringing out into the forest and stirring the leaves although in truth she was many miles away, that by allowing herself to be brought low and trapped in a backwater with even a lesser one of her families grimoires by unknown parties she had shamed the family and would be forgotten. They would not come to her aid. Cast out of the one coven she had known since birth she went about forming a tighter knit one as its replacement. She had asked the two charlatans out of town and gathered those with inklings of true power to her, she lacked her family’s innate command of the mystic arts, but her deficit had made her a master ritualist. And so she doled out their precious secrets to a few peasants in this town and made herself a new family. With helpers at her disposal she was able to enact more complex magic and had soon carved out a niche for herself and her followers as the area’s sole authority on matters of the arcane. People flocked to see her from all corners of the continent and a few from even further. She didn’t doubt that her mother, the rest of her family and their retainers were trying their best to end her life but as the years went by it occurred to her that whatever was keeping her here was also keeping her alive, the town seemed to repel anything more than passing outside influences and her family feared to enter its boundaries and become trapped themselves, better to let whatever invisible enemy had brought her there finish her off eventually. Their judgment proved correct.

Moira was an unusual soul, daughter of the town witch and perpetually mistrusted. Despite all that she had a sunny demeanor and those that matter couldn’t help but be charmed by her. For as long as she could remember her mother had forced her, even as a barely aware child to partake in odd rituals, from filling purple gossamer bags of strange herbs sends unknown objects and placing them in various spots throughout the house to keeping a bowl of water by the door and flicking a drop against the wood once it was shut to bathing in oils and strange concoctions by the light of the moon. She did all this because as she told Moira “Something was out to get them.” Moira always found it odd that her mother chose to say something as opposed to someone. Moira had always dreamed of being a doctor but her mother forbid her to leave town for any reason and although she could not explain why to herself even after all these years she’d never even thought of disobeying that particular rule. Her few friends in town and her mother concurred that she would’ve made a brilliant doctor but in a town like Castle Rock the closest she could manage was to be a nursing assistant at the local prison. Some days she bemoaned her life stuck in this little town, so small that it did not even merit a dot on most maps of the area. But she would gather up her natural cheer, take her sketchpad and pencil, sit in the park and draw on those days. Since Moira began drawing she’d been a prodigy, but even from earliest childhood when one has no attention span to speak of after she would dally with the subject and that she would return always to her first. A pair of haunting blue-green eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and your whispering pair of lips, cracked and dry, parched even to the drawings one got the impression that no words passed between them for a long time. The drawings of course worried her mother but try as she might she could puzzle out no theories as to their significance, the last time she’d tried describing ritual on the mysterious subject her bowl had been gripped by a powerful kinetic force shattered from the inside out embedding pieces of cheap ceramic into the wall around her and a few into her body as water that had been cool and tranquil moments earlier became scalding and improbably rose up to splash her in the face. It was then she decided that the drawings were out of her power.

Whenever she was outside of her house Moira always felt the faintest buzzing against her skull, the local doctor had considered it a prodromal symptom of a migraine, but the element never progressed beyond an irritating sound. Until the day she disobeyed one of her mother’s rules. She always looked forward to Fridays, it meant that she have the weekend to draw, but more importantly she would get to see Adrian. Adrian she suspected, that been an enigma from the moment he was born. A Scandinavian street rat with far too much charm and intelligence for his own good and somehow grifted his way across the Atlantic and ended up in her life riding a steed of criminal charges for allegedly attempting to traffic young women across the border. Adrian claimed he had been trying to rescue them and the promised jury of his “peers” such as it was appeared to have bought that story, but Adrian could sell water to a drowning man. Even Moira was unsure what the truth of the matter was. Still Adrian was a charmer, and incorrigible flirt and she had fun bantering with him, although when she asked about his plans his thoughts always turned to getting out and making enough money to support his little boy. About a month ago, Adrian had complained of awful whispering noises splitting his skull during the day while Moira was not on shift. She walked into his cell the later at the start of the graveyard shift and found him sitting as though he were a wounded lion whose legs had been caught in a trap, through his quick pained breaths he greeted her in a melodious accent that was related to but unlike Adrian’s own. She saw that his legs were twisted, broken and fractured at various intervals as though someone had taken a chisel up and down the length of bone within his limbs. No one at the prison could explain the origin of his injuries and beyond a cursory visit from the institution’s uncaring physician no one tried to. As long as word did not escape these walls no one cared, Moira had thought about telling but who was there to tell? How did one even begin to do that? She’d never even left this town once in her twenty-something years. He been an able-bodied, athletic young man at lights out, and had awoken as…

“A cripple! I am but a poor humble cripple and I throw myself on your mercy, my dear sweet Moria. How must I abase myself before you to obtain another of these wonderful puddings? I am willing to do quite a lot, to serve…no that’s not quite the right word, oh your language is so silly…Service! I am willing to service you in oh so many ways!” He said in his singsong voice, appearing quite proud of himself for hunting down his lexical quarry. He he had used the provided spoon merely  an implement to tear the thin film of plastic keeping him from his prize, flung it away and for lack of a better descriptor… began preforming cunnilingus on the pudding pouch in his hand, his performance was complete with moans and groans and little contented sighs. All the while never breaking eye contact with her, blue orbs burning into her own filled with indecent proposals. Unwilling to tolerate his antics anymore she snatched the offending pudding cup from his grasp, for the shadow of an instant she could have sworn a terrible look of feral rage had flashed across his countenance but it was gone before Moira could register whether or not it ever truly been there. “I am so terribly sorry dear Moira for my offense, it is just that in my day, we did not have such…culinary delights. He’d slowed to get the word “culinary” out properly but hadn’t stumbled and looked satisfied. In his day, that was the other thing, in the month since Adrian awoken the entire prison wailing about whispering in his cell, according to the doctors he developed a dis-associative identity. The young man that now occupied the cell which officially belonged to Adrian, called himself Ivar Lothbrok. He had been doing his best to convince Moira that he was the spirit of a long dead Viking who had for reasons unknown even to himself woken up in a body that was so similar to his own that it had frightened even him. The prison psychiatrist couldn’t have cared less about the situation in that cell, but to Moira it was quite the engaging mystery.

Today Moira decided to challenge him. “If you really aren’t Adrian, prove it if you’re not him then your innocent of the crimes that got him put in here and you should be angry, you should want out.” The smile that split the face in front of her should have been a warning. “I may be innocent of his petty crime dealing in flesh and weird…potions,” Moira decided to let the odd word choice go to spare his pride. “But I have killed and maimed, and lied,  and stolen, and coveted many times over. You’re correct though, I do want out of the cell but for the moment I’m right where I want to be.” Moira, ever quizzical couldn’t stop herself from asking “Why do you want to be here?” “Because here is where you are.” he said as if he were speaking to the dullest child in all the world. “I will indulge you however, I am not Adrian, Adrian had pure wholesome thoughts about you, he was going to be free, tell you that he wanted you to be his little boy’s mother, beg you to start a family and run away with him to whatever little speck of a town he found someone foolish enough to care for the child while he was here. He’d have trafficked poison and flesh slaves or slaughtered swine for the rest of his days for you. He used to touch himself here in the dark fantasize about reaching through the bars of the cage and touching your skin, used to dream of having pure loving sex with you on a blanket by fjords illuminated only by the stars and the moon, lest he seemed to greedy to want to see you in all your glory. He wanted to fill your cunt with his seed over any over until the two of you made a brother or sister for precious little Patrick. One big happy family.” He spat out the infant’s name like a curse most vile, and treated the world family as though it was unconscionable poison on his tongue. She took a breath intending to halt whatever sick game he was playing, but the moment she drew breath and opened her mouth his eyes blazed with danger. “Keep your tongue behind your teeth if you wish to keep it all wench!” He roared. “You asked for this, now you will listen. I am not Adrian because never in his wildest dreams would he have contemplated the fantasy of using your uniform to tie you down and spitting on your face over and over forcing you to swallow what you could, and what you couldn’t would slide down between those perfect breasts of yours and they would glisten as I played with them, sucked and bit until they were raw, then I would have kept spitting until your cunt was drenched from the inside out, I would have laid siege to it like it was my traitor brother’s last stronghold. Oh, the sounds and squeals I would have pulled from you. I would have lavished you with my tongue and fingers, bit and sucked and twisted and slapped and pulled and made you come over and over again until you understood what it is to be ravished by a god!” He broke off into a fit of chuckling then capped with a wistful sigh. “But alas all that is denied to me, and indeed you, for you belong to someone else, and as sweet as you would be, you are not worth the effort of challenging his claim.” He stated this with such nonchalance that it broke the terrible spell that she had been under and she fled the prison with eyes burning and tears streaming.

Ivar smiled as she fled, finally, finally. he was one step closer to being free of this accursed in-between place, he was getting home to his beloved Eira and their little girl. Or perhaps another sojourn through life with his healer who had the body of a tower. Or maybe he’d meet that lippy little puppy of an entitled young man in Pennsylvania again who secretly craved discipline. Whatever happened he would be home again, nothing would stop him.

In her haste, she entered her home, ran to her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed without observing her mother’s rules. Had she been paying more attention she would’ve noticed that the water in the bowl she was supposed to flick at the door suddenly evaporated and the gossamer bags filled with protective elements suddenly caught flame and turned to ash in moments. It was then that she heard his voice. “Please don’t cry. I’m here now, it’ll be alright.” His tone was nearly plaintive. She didn’t bother setting up she knew that the voice came from no place within her home. “I’ve been waiting…eternities for you Moria,” He whispered inside her skull. “Let me make you feel better.” There was a hand stroking her face. Her eyes shot open and she beheld a figure that was both present and absent, there was wait to him but light seemed to pass through him through him as though he was merely a projection. Even trapped in the in between as he was, he was gorgeous. Her angel. A completely bare towering figure with the chest and leg and back and ass seemingly having been sculpted from the highest quality marble by da Vinci himself, with cheekbones that could reduce adamantine diamonds to dust, with lustrous hair and sinfully plump and pillowy lips. His eyes, so soulful that she believed he had lived a thousand lifetimes, she realized she’d been drawing this face for as long as she could remember. To feel his touch was to experience euphoria. He kissed her and all her senses were expanded beyond human potential, she saw a kaleidoscope of colors behind her eyes, he smelled and tasted of every single enticing thing at once but instead of a riotous discord of scents and flavors, they were balanced in perfect harmony. His voice alone could reduce her bones to jelly in a way that would make Ivar fear she intended to stake a claim to his epithet. He worshiped her with his entire being, fingers and hands and tongue and colossal endowment yes, but in the midst of their lovemaking she was certain that their spirits were melding even more intensely than their bodies. He spat upon her face one and she felt as though she were being anointed in holy oil by a deity. He scored her flesh with his sharp straight teeth the color of shining bone, drew blood, and she was happy to give it. His enormous hand encircled her throat closed her airway and if she hadn’t already been experiencing what she thought might be Nirvana, the oxygen deprivation would’ve taken her there. After fucking her through more than 20 orgasms and claiming all her orifices for his own each first with the gentle fervor of a virginal lover at the end of an idyllic courtship and then with a harsh brutality as though fucking her two within an inch of her life was the only way he could properly express the hatred for her that filled his entire alien being. He finally unburdened himself of his seed deep inside her and sighed contentedly .

When she awoke after their tryst, he was seated in a chair opposite her bed dressed in a suit and other finery looking for all the world like a high-powered professional instead of some cosmic entity to take an interest in her. He then told her of the tragedy of Henry Deaver, how a Titanic battle with his wife over his infidelity with a young woman he had met at a business engagement led to him driving fueled by rage and sadness while rain pounded the car and obscured his vision, he’d crashed into the lake and been thrown into a myriad of alternate realities, “other heres and nows where the dominos fell in different patterns. His stories of lives spent with Charlotte, Oliver, Westly, as a professor, a soldier from West Virginia, a bounty hunter who fought for his life in a dystopia, the life he’d almost lived of a Viking, a philanderer with a beer-based pick-up strategy, a gangster, the searching for true love based on a scientific assessment ,they all brought tears to her eyes. He entreated her with every fiber of his being to free him from his cage and put an end to his cycle of loneliness, to save him and others trapped in this limbo. She swore to do it.

That was the day the matriarch without a clan descended on the prison, her chariot of choice, a limousine flanked by a motorcade of four SUVs each bearing the insignia of an elite private security firm denigrated the world over for unsavory activities, their detractors though couldn’t question their effectiveness. She and the battalion she paid for advanced through the prison like a storm, the guards normally employed were deferential and out of their depth. The only sounds echoing through the prison with a click of her heels and the thuds of the jackboots that accompanied her for she had brought silence to the prison with her mere presence. Moira had heard of her, the interim controller of a ludicrously wealthy and secretive biotech firm following the scandalous disappearance of her son and heir. Allegedly, the young man whom the newspapers referred to as the Brat Prince had somehow veered off the course of normally accepted philandering ways among the ultrarich and powerful and become involved with someone his mother deemed unacceptable. The matriarch had come because the vast network of informants that she plied with riches and sharp promises had imparted to her knowledge of a prisoner found here who almost matched her son’s description. The only thing he had left behind was a wheelchair covered in the blood of its owner, a crippled faggot whom he had dared to take for a lover. He would pay for his insolence, for the damage down to her reputation and company, she would break this mysterious prisoner and learn all that he knew, she swore it. When she reached his unusual cell a young woman in scrubs was fumbling with the keys, her son’s face taken on a different path through destiny than the one she knew stared back at her. He spoke to her in an antiquated dialect of that language from the Balkans she had left behind so many mortal lifetimes ago, she was not that frightened, trusting girl from Wallachia anymore, she nearly charged the cage to make him pay for daring to address her this way, but the meaning of his words stilled her. “Madame Olivia, I believe we can be of help to one another once this insect has served its purpose.” Moria broke the lock.

He nuzzled into her touch aching a contented sound as she ran her hands through his hair, it had been eons since he felt the touch of another, his eyelashes fluttered and tears swam in his eyes, he would allow himself this one indulgence. “Loyal Moria, you have played your part well and in appreciation I give you the greatest of gifts, the fulfillment of your destiny.” When he spoke it was with the voice of 100 different people at once both cacophonous and whisper quiet. She screamed as his lips brushed her forehead, for this feather-light touch broke everything inside of her all at once. She fell as her skin froze and burned all at once, her muscles liquefied and her bones turned to jelly, her ears, nose, and eyes ran with blood, then her eyes began to boil in their sockets fluids running down into her still shrieking mouth as her body contorted it this way and that trying desperately to contend with suffering that was beyond human comprehension.

The last thing she saw before death mercifully claimed her were a pair of unveiled eyes atop bloodless lips, her final sight was one she had been drawing her entire life.

As the wretch finally had the good sense to expire Olivia Godfrey watched as the death seemed to fill out the prisoner’s gaunt and wan features until she could almost confuse him for an older version of her son. He drew in a deep breath, stooped to kiss her hand and issued a request, eyes glittering with dark promise: “Take me to Derry.”

[reidology]

I’m sick of loosing soulmates [Reid x Ethan]

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Ethan

Summary: “I’m a man of science but sometimes I wonder… I wonder if this is fate. If I’m… predestined to love and lose until I die. If this is how it was always meant to end with me; alone.”

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, mentions of Hotch/Reid, mentions of past drug abuse

Word Count: 1.5k

It’s quite funny, really, when you think about it. How loneliness will drag you underneath the surface and engulf you in darkness. Pull you down deep and drown you, but in your final gasp it offers one more chance. One more desperate attempt to reach up and grab onto something. This is Spencer Reid’s final gasp. 

Another late night at the hotel. Reid can’t sleep, he hasn’t been able to in weeks. He should be up going over the case, trying to connect motive to the suspects, but all he can think of is Hotch. Hotch who left. Of course, of course Reid understood why, and he wasn’t truly mad at his ex-whatever. But his self-sabotaging mind says that Hotch left him. He was too much. That’s why he left without so much as a note, a warning. 

Logic and sense got thrown out the window as Spencer stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t go on like this, distant at the briefing, unfocused during the investigation, it was getting harder and harder to recall the facts of the case. 

His thoughts are spiraling, blurring together, Spencer needs to be grounded. Spencer needs to sleep. So he reaches over to the nightstand, to the only person who ever could calm him down. 

He calls Ethan. 

On the first ring he tears up. By the time it goes to voicemail, he’s already sniffing and wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. It’s the middle of the night, of course he wouldn’t answer. 

He debates leaving a message, maybe he should just hang up and forget about it. Man up and sleep it off. But he can’t sleep, that’s why he’s calling. Ethan… Ethan cares right? 

‘Hey. It’s uh… Spencer. I know you’re probably asleep. I’m sorry. It’s just… this case. I can’t sleep and I can’t focus. Nothing I do is… enough. Everything feels off and I can’t think. I can’t THINK.’

He’s getting worked up. After sniffing and taking a deep breath, he continues.

‘I don’t know, Ethan… I think I’m just broken. My dad, Gideon, Emily, Maeve, Morgan, Hotch… you...

I’m a man of science but sometimes I wonder… I wonder if this is fate. If I’m… predestined to love and lose until I die. If this is how it was always meant to end with me; alone.

I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Solving other people’s darkness only to come home to my own. Maybe I’m not built for this anymore, maybe everyone who left… left with a piece of me.’

He breaths down the line until it beeps again, indicating the end of the voicemail. Maybe he’ll regret it in the morning, but at least he can get some dreamless rest now. A good cry was all he needed. 

——————————————————

Two days later they’re back in Quantico, case solved, no thanks to Reid, and he’s staying late to sort out the paperwork. Or maybe to avoid going back to his empty apartment. 

He’s the only one left in the bullpen, Emily’s still in her office with the blinds closed. She’s been under a lot of stress too, lately. Spencer is just looking forward to passing out at his desk and waking up with a sore neck. His eyes are drooping and his head is slipping when he feels a firm hand on his shoulder. It shakes him into awareness and he looks up to see a face he hasn’t seen in nearly ten years. A face he’s thought about every day and missed so much. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Reid.” The man huffed.

“Ethan, what are you doing here?”

“I got your voicemail. Thought I’d come see you for a bit. You look like hell, bro.”

Spencer wasn’t going to focus on Ethan calling him bro. 

“I didn’t know you were coming! I would’ve-”

“You would’ve? Reid, I just found you at work. At midnight. Drooling over a pile of casework that I know you could have finished in an hour.”

He couldn’t look his long-lost friend in they eye. The hand on his shoulder squeezed once. Spencer stared at the duffel bag hanging from the other’s shoulder. Ethan sighed. 

“Get up, let’s go home, Spence.” 

——————————————————

Ethan put the kettle on as soon as they walked in. Chamomile tea might not be what Spencer likes, but it’s what he needs. He brought the mugs over to where the sunken man was sitting on the sofa. He didn’t seem to notice the dip in the seat next to him, too focused on a framed photograph of his team, his family. It was an old one, JJ, himself, Morgan, Emily, Hotch, and Gideon at one of their rare outings. It was a fun night at some Chinese restaurant, Hotch taught him to use chopsticks. It’s been years since he laughed that hard with his friends. He’ll never have the chance to do that again. 

He can feel Ethan silently staring, waiting for him to start the inevitable conversation.

“They’ve all left,” his frail voice cracked, “At some point or another, they left and never came back the same. I don’t recognize anyone around me anymore...” The I don’t recognize myself anymore remains unsaid. Tears began their steady descent down his cheeks, he could never keep it in when it came to his family. Ethan’s hand reaches his own on his lap in a soothing rubbing motion.

“But at least Morgan got to say goodbye.”

A sudden stuttered sob rips out when he remembers little Hank, named after him. Ethan’s hand finds his face, thumbs wiping away the tears that just wouldn’t stop.

“For nearly a decade I don’t hear from you. Imagine my surprise when I wake up to a voicemail from none other than my rival genius.” He chuckles lightly. His laugh alleviated some of the melancholy feeling in Spencer’s heart.

“Imagine my surprise when I heard you crying. Spencer... they never left you. If anything they came back for you.

I came back for you... After last time, after you got clean in New Orleans, I knew you needed to figure things out. Maybe I let it go on for too long… But I was only trying to give you space. ”

His thumb moves to Spencer’s chin, fingers gently stroking his jaw, “I never meant for you to feel alone.” Ethan’s eyes met his own honey ones.

God how Spencer’s missed being this close to Ethan. Feeling his breath, his touch. He tried so hard to forget about him. With Hotch, it worked for a while. It was pleasant and comforting, until Hotch wanted more than Spencer could give, until Mr. Scratch, until Aaron left. Being in Ethan’s space again was surreal, having his attention felt like a dream. He couldn’t let him go again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ethan read his mind like he always did. “It’s always been you, Spencer. Ever since we were kids. It was always gonna end with us.”

From this proximity, all Spencer could do was look back into Ethan’s eyes and nod. “It was always you, for me, too.” He whispered, and let Ethan push him back into the  couch cushions, settling under his comforting weight. Their legs tangled as they kissed languidly, rediscovering each other with all the time in the world. Spencer drowned in the sensation.

They came back up for air eventually, fingers carding through overgrown hair, kisses peppered on cheeks, foreheads, necks.

“Come on, drink your tea, Goldilocks.”

——————————————————

The next morning Spencer wakes up in his bed, cold, but to the smell of something delicious wafting through the air. He follows the scent trail to the kitchen and his heart swells tenfold at the sight. Ethan in his boxers, swaying around the room like he’s been there before, like he knows what he’s doing, like he belongs there. He does belong there.

“Good morning, sunshine.” The man before him smiled brightly, “I made us some cajun eggs.” He set the skillet down in the middle of the table and strode up to Spencer, grabbing his waist. “How do you feel?” 

Spencer wrapped his limbs all around the taller man, tucking his head in his neck, unable to resist being close to him again. “Better,” he mumbled into the skin, and let his actions speak the rest. 

Over breakfast they talk about what’s happened since they last saw each other, how they haven’t spoken since New Orleans. When Ethan helped him get clean. 

‘That’s when I knew it would end with us,’ he said, ‘When I took you to bed and you looked up at me, your eyes brimming with trust, our hands entwined, and you whispered my name like a promise. From then on I knew I’d never let you go. I just had to let you take the first step.’

Spencer felt weightless, he could float again. 

[angrylizardjacket]

dirty souls {Nikki Sixx}

Summary: Soulmate AU // Some people are born with a tattoo that represents their soulmate, in the place their soulmate will first touch them. You would think this makes life easier, but it just makes those with soulmarks into spectacles.

A/N: @misscharlottelee i love these kids. ALSO WARNING FOR CHILD ABUSE, physical and psychological, as well as the loss of a parent. it talks about lola’s childhood nd its not a positive time. / unedited and written in 4 hours. if you like it, please leave feedback! xx

{Run To Paradise AU}

In a world where having a soulmark is about as rare as winning the lottery, Lola - then Katie -, much to her parents surprise, was born with a broken record on her shoulder. At first they thought it was a birth mark, but it was too dark to be any ordinary birth make, and it grew as she did, solidifying it’s shape and colour by her fourth birthday. The image itself was raised, unlike a normal tattoo, and the vinyl image was thick and dark, and the label was bright red, but unreadable, and she loved it; it was the size of a hand, stretching from her shoulder blade all the way to her shoulder, with a single crack breaking the perfect circle.

“Whoever that’s for, is either gonna love or hate music,” her father, Leo, had told her once, grinning as Katie, on her tiptoes, watched a copy of Elton John’s Honky Chateau spin on the record player, bopping to Honky Cat. She was five then, still not quite understanding just what it meant to have the record on her shoulder. It didn’t matter, Leo was more than happy to go through his entire record collection with her.

Her parents hadn’t been soulmates, no-one she knew had a soulmate, she was the only kid in her entire school district with a soulmark. Of course she knew soulmates existed, she’d been logged into the American Soulmate Registry since her parents had confirmed that it wasn’t just a regular birthmark. As of 1975, there were 1032 people with soulmarks in America, 230 of whom had found each other, which left 801 potential soulmates in America, and 17 in Massachusetts with her. There’s countless others all over the world, should anyone wish to investigate, each country with their own Registry of sorts.

Later, when she was older and angrier, she’d be mad at the system, at the invasive nature of it all, would be glad she changed her name and ran away, to avoid anyone looking for her, hoping she means something to them. Destiny was just a new excuse to stalk someone. But now, it was just a sort of abstract concept, a mark that would mean something eventually, but didn’t right now.

What it meant for her now was questions from everyone, teachers and parents more than students, people eager to know what it was like to be destined for someone else.

Weird.

That was always her answer. Everyone else felt so entitled to her life that she felt like a spectacle; she couldn’t imagine the pressure the few celebrity soulmate couples would be under. When everyone had been excited over the news that there had been a new listing added to the registry, Katie had always pittied them.

Despite all the pressure on her from the world around her, her father was always a calming force, always told her ‘you’re in no rush, it’ll happen when it happens, I promise Lola, don’t let that stop you from being yourself and enjoying your life’. He had always called her Lola, a nickname derived from her birth name Keola, which he prefer to her mother-given nickname of Katie. Soon, Katie would prefer Lola too.

Everyone else, her mother included, was so ready for her to find the one that it was a little overwhelming.

“Where did you get these?” Leo asks, eyes tired as he sees the papers in her mother’s hand, having just tucked Lola in for the night. “This is stalking, Irene, just because you found them in the phonebook doesn’t make it right; it’s destiny, it’ll happen when it happens.”

“She’ll be happier with them!” Her mother would argue, voice raised loud enough for Lola to hear, to be intrigued, to be lured downstairs in the shadow of the handrail.

“She’s eight, let her be a damn child,” Leo snapped. It would be the first and only time Lola would ever hear anger in her father’s voice. He took the papers Irene was holding, and threw them in the trash. The next day, Lola finds it, sees a print-out of the registry, and addresses written in Irene’s unmistakable, perfect handwriting.

Leo was Lola’s hero, and losing him was like losing a limb.

Lola was inconsolable for months, could barely stand to leave the house, even as her mother grew weary and irrational.

“Why would he leave? Why would he just leave?” Lola tried to reason with her mother, who insisted that he was still alive, still out there somewhere, just refusing to come home.

“Because you’re here!” Irene had snapped at her daughter, only a few months shy of ten, “you’re meant to be someone else’s problem,” and she shoves Lola’s soulmarked shoulder, and Lola feels cold betrayal pool in her stomach. Her father had always insisted that the soulmark didn’t change her, but he wasn’t here to defend himself, and she was already so fragile.

There was a strange, jagged dichotomy in play in their house after that, with Irene insisting she’s too busy to ferry Lola around to her potential soulmates, while also insisting that Lola’s too young to be vising stranger on her own, however she still should be someone else’s problem, so her father can finally come back. All Lola knew was that she was a burden, and for the next six years, that’s all she knew how to feel.

Everything comes to a head the night Lola packs a bag and tells her mother she’s heading for the bus station, a list of addresses for the soulmarked in her state.

“No.” Irene blocks her way to the foyer.

“No? I’m almost sixteen, I can take care of myself -”

“You’re a child, Katie, you’re being delusional.”

“I thought you’d rather I was someone else’s problem?” Lola’s lip curled, and Irene glared at her.

“Not if it’s going to make your father think I’m a bad mother.” And her gaze flicks to the photo of Leo kept on the foyer table, next to the candle she always kept lit for him.

Lola’s mouth gaped open as tears pricked her eyes, and she tries to shoulder past.

“I’m going!” Lola tried to insist, but Irene was stronger, and held her back, “you know what? You are!” She shouted, stumbling back, and Irene looked at her, confused, a little hurt, “you’re a terrible fucking mother, you know that? Maybe the reason dad never came back was because you’re a fucking psycho who keeps pushing your problems onto me!” Lola snarled, tears dripping down her cheeks.

For a moment, there’s quiet, and Lola thinks she’s won. Trying to pass Irene again, however, she’s barred when Irene sticks her arm out.

“Take it back.” Irene’s voice is cold as ice, and Lola feels fear curl around her heart, “Katie, you take that back,” and Irene turns to her, but something’s snapped inside her mother’s head, and she shoves Lola back, against the table, against the wall, against the candle. Demanding louder and louder as Lola starts screaming, with flames curling up her back, Irene’s only focused on Lola taking her words back, rather than the pain she’s putting her daughter through.

Only when Irene’s hands start burning, and Lola’s whole back and backpack is alight, does she let go, and Lola collapses. The walls and the curtain are already catching, and it’s only moments before the fire department arrives since one of the neighbors calling them, followed by the police, alerted to the young girl’s screaming.

The trial was nation-wide news, and Lola’s face was printed in newspapers alongside the headline ‘I Was Punished For Having A Soulmark’; even if it was a half-truth, it sold out papers in mere hours. Irene was demonized, and everyone in America loved Lola for all of five minutes. A few other soulmarked people found her through the news, asked her where her soulmark was, and Lola, whose soulmark now was a twisted mess of scarring, along with the rest of her back, offered her hand.

“If you’re my soulmate, it doesn’t matter where you touch me, the mark will be there,” and then she prompted them to shake her hand. They did, but none of them were ever her soulmate.

Frank Ferrana, however, doesn’t watch the news.

He’s seventeen when Lola meets him, covered in tattoos already, along his arms and legs, and a few on his chest, and he’s probably the coolest person she’s ever seen. They’re put into the same group home together, but she can’t bring herself to talk to him at first, too intimidating by him, his tattoos, his leather jackets, the way he smells like smoke and freedom. The ladies at the group home coddle her, and all but wrap her in bubble wrap, and want to know all about her soulmark, and if she’s ever found her soulmate.

“If I had, do you think I’d be here?” Lola asks them over breakfast, voice deadpan. The ladies all look a little guilty, but Frank snorts into his coffee at the other end of the table. He and Lola share a grin, and he gets a little less intimidating in that moment.

He seems to go see bands every other night, and Lola finds herself staying up, waiting for him. Usually she doesn’t make it, falls asleep on the community sofa at about two in the morning, but this time she brings a book.

When he gets back, he gives her an indecipherable look that turns into a smirk, as he makes his unsteady way to the sofa, and collapses down beside her. When he reaches up, his hand gripping her shoulder for support, she thinks more about the pain of tugging at her newly-healed scars, and not of his hand on the exact spot her mark would be, and shrugs him off, readjusting where the shoulder of her shirt had fallen down.

She asks him where he goes, and he’s terribly evasive,

He calls her Katie, like the ladies do, like her mother did, and it grates on her like nails on a chalk board. No-one used her real name apart from her dad, but he was gone. So that’s the night she decides to take back the one thing her father had left her, the nickname only he used. If he ever came back, he’d be coming back to his Lola.

That night, before she gets in bed, she’ll feel her shoulder stinging, and usually after being touched, the stinging goes away after a few moments, but it’s still there. Looking in the mirror, despite the awkward angle, she sees something strange; the record on her shoulder, despite how it’s been disfigured by her scars, is still almost completely the same. Apart from one thing. The record is no longer broken. It’s a complete, black disk with a red label.

Holy shit.

And she remembers Frank’s hand on her shoulder and the burning sensation and -

The next morning, she introduces herself to him as Lola, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, with butterflies in her stomach. She thinks she remembers seeing a Frank on the registry when she’d checked it a few years ago, and this must be him. He must feel it too. In the face of her early morning excitement, he rolls his eyes, and immediately acts like an asshole about her new name; even so, she likes the way he says her name. But he’s still definitely an asshole, acting like nothing happened and nothing changed, so she kicks his bare shin, right in his tacky, little unlit candle tattoo, and storms away, missing the way he immediately yelped like she’d burned him.

If he’s going to act like nothing happened, then so will she. Frank Ferrana isn’t her damn soulmate and that’s fine by her. 

More than likely, he doesn’t even have a soulmate.

Even so, he seems to have taken a liking to her.

He seems to want to be around her more often than not, and finally acquiesces and starts taking her to gigs. They get ready at his friend’s house, Nadine, and from the first moment she opens the door, Nadine also takes a shine to her.

“You’re Miss Lola I’ve heard so much about,” Nadine also does not watch the news, as it turns out, and Frank turns bright at her knowing smile in the face of Lola’s confusion. Everyone knew Katie, but no-one knew Lola. Until now.

Nadine explained that a few years ago, Frank and her brother Joe had been in a band together in Seattle, and Nikki explained the band was the only escape he had from his mother. Nadine and Joe had moved to Boston a year before Frank, and he knew when he ran away from his mom, they’d help him out. Which they did. 

Lola makes a name for herself alongside Frank, as his roadie, slowly becoming his best friend, and much to her own guilt, developing feelings for him. If he wasn’t her soulmate, then it was unfair to her real soulmate if she fell in love with someone else. But Frank’s actually kind of nice to her, and doesn’t treat her like a kid, and yeah, they fool around together, but that’s because they’re young. When one of them is spotted, the other one is never far behind. 

Occasionally she catches him giving her a much gentler look than she’d expect, or he’ll gently trace the edge of her soulmark when it peeks out from the top of her shirt, and she wants to ask him, but can’t find the words. He’s the only person she knows who hasn’t asked about it, apart from Nadine. 

But they leave Nadine, and all of Boston behind, heading for sunny LA, and the first night in the back of the van they now call home, Lola, high as hell, traces the tattoos down his arms.

“You have a lot,” Lola says quietly, and Frank makes an indecipherable noise, but turns and plants a gentle kiss on her soulmarked shoulder. Lola has no idea what to read into that. 

They lie and cheat and steal their way into a barely-livable apartment, but it’s home, and Lola’s thrilled, until Frank brings a girl home and Lola’s left on the sofa, her heart aching and traitorous tears in her eyes. She shouldn’t feel betrayed, he’s not hers, and she’s not his; she’s got someone waiting for her, so getting heartbroken doesn’t even make sense. 

The next day, she’s awake before either of them, up at the crack of dawn since they don’t exactly have curtains to stop the light hitting her on the sofa as it rises. If she sees either of them, she’s pretty sure she’s going to scream, so instead, she decides to speed up destiny, and heads to the public library.

The American Soulmate Registry is publicly accessible, incase people like Lola want to find each other, and each entry lists the person’s full name, year of birth, and state where they were born. It’s far too easy to sort by year of birth, and pick everyone within three years of her. Usually soulmates are close in age, though there are few exceptions, the universe seems to know what’s best. As the list is printing, Lola’s at the front desk asking for a directory. The man at the desk is skeptical, people looking like Lola usually only use the directories to start fires. But then Lola’s pulling at the shoulder of her shirt and batting her eyes.

“Please, I’m looking for my soulmate; you wouldn’t stand in the way of destiny, would you?” She asks, and he’s all but bending over backwards to help her out. Lola thanks him sweetly, and heads to the printer where the list is taking an age to print out. 

One by one, she reads the names, mulling over them; there’s about 59 in her age range, and a few of them sound kind of exciting. Charlotte Lee, 1961, CA; probably not too far away -

Frank Ferrana Jr. 1959. CA.

She rips the paper out of the printer before it can finish the rest of the list, running back to the apartment. 

The woman from the night before is in her kitchen, drinking coffee, and she gives a sleepy smile, but Lola ignores her, heading for the bathroom where she heard the shower running. Kicking in the door, she’s unsurprised by Frank’s angry yell, but she just pulls the curtain to the side and holds up the paper.

“Fucking knock!” Frank tries to pull the curtain back around, but Lola forces it open.

“You have a fucking soulmark?” Lola all but yells, and his expression drops. He blinks slowly. “Why the fuck are you hanging around me if you know you’ve got someone else out there for you?” She asked, “this’ll only end badly!”

“Why are you with me?” He demanded in return, stark naked, glaring, and Lola drops her gaze, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

“Because I-” looking furtively around, Lola spots the girl in the door frame, gawking at the pair of them, “can you fuck off?” The girl’s eyebrows rise, and Lola stalks towards the door, slamming it closed in the girl’s face. Turning back, Frank is still looking at her with an expectant, half-angry expression.

“I’m a masochist, okay? I’m half convinced you’re my soulmate and even if you’re not, I kind of... kind of... I love you, or whatever.”

“You think I’m your soulmate?” Frank’s voice is soft, and Lola finally looks him in the eyes, nervous and raw and vulnerable. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you acted like nothing happened -”

“You acted like nothing happened!” Frank fires back, stepping out of the shower to put his leg up on the sink. Dripping wet, naked, and not exactly in a flattering pose, he gestures to the flame tattooed on his shin. She’d never paid much attention to it amid all the others, but she remembers thinking it was tacky that it was unlit; why would anyone want an unlit candle? But there, a little, orange flame lights the wick at the top of the candle, and when Lola reaches out, she feels how it’s raised, like hers was. 

“Right where you kicked me,” he told her, and Lola’s mouth opened in shock, before scrambling to take off her shirt, to show her tattoo.

“This used to be broken, but you -! The night we first talking, you -” he presses a kiss to the tattoo, kissing his way up her neck to her lips, but she pulls back, eyes wide; “we’re the dumbest people I know.” She whispers, and he snorts a laugh.

“Almost like we’re made for each other.”

And that’s enough for her to kiss him, and now she knows why it feels like it makes sense. 

Things don’t change much after that, not on the surface. Soon, Frank becomes Nikki, and Lola finds herself music that the registry might never know what happened to them, and that she really doesn’t care. Lola gets new tattoos at Nikki’s suggestion. As it turns out, he’d gotten tattoos to distract from his soulmark, so people would stop asking questions, and it works. 

People can’t tell anymore, and Lola’s not the little girl from the news that everyone knew, and she’s so glad to no longer be recognized. All anyone knows is that Nikki and Lola are a package deal, and that if you mess with one, you’re going to bring on the wrath of the other. 

“Did your mom really set you on fire because of this?” Nikki asks, tracing the warped ridges of her tattoo one night. Lola huffed a laugh, pressing her face into her pillow for a moment.

“Not because of it, because of my dad, and... her own delusions, I think,” she mused, “she wanted so badly for me to be someone else’s problem, and growing up, dad would always be taking care of me, but then he died, and she was stuck with this kid who, looking back on it, I think she resented me for taking dad’s attention, but now she couldn’t just ship me off to some stranger, even if they were my soulmate, because everyone would think she’s an awful mother.”

“She sounds awful already-”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, she was atrocious,” Lola agrees, “but the mark was an out for when I was too old for dad to look after, but then he was gone and I was still there.”

“That sucks,” Nikki muttered, wrapping an arm around her, and Lola snuggled up to him, humming in agreement, “my mom always hoped my mark was something she could use, like my soulmate would be some billionaire, and I’d make her rich because she found them or whatever.” He snickers, rolling his eyes. 

“She put adds in papers across the country, basically selling me; people wanted to meet their soulmate so badly that they’d pay her fifty bucks to have me touch them. It sounds a lot worse in hindsight,” his expression sours, and Lola runs her nails in a gentle rhythm up and down his arm.

“What if my mom had seen one of those ads, and we met back then?” Lola asks softly, smiling gently. Nikki blinks for a few moments, coming out of his memories, before looking back at Lola.

“Was your family rich?”

“Not especially; dad owned a little burger joint, but mom ran it into the ground out of spite after he left,” Lola admitted, and Nikki shrugged.

“Then my mom would probably act like nothing happened, even if it did -”

“And my mom would probably insist that I was her problem now.”

“It’s why I ran,” Nikki admitted, “I didn’t want anyone else to be trapped with her, least of all the person who was supposed to love me for the rest of my life, you know?” And Lola sighs, and gives him a nod and a squeeze of support, “I’m glad we met how we did.” He admits.

“Me too,” Lola tells him gently.

When they start to form Motley Crue, only Mick seems to recognize her a little, though he drops it when she asks him to. Looking from Nikki to Lola, he gets a strangely fond, knowing glint in his eye, and looks to Lola with a question in his eyes. Tentatively, Lola gives the slightest smile and nod. Mick blinks a few times, surprised, but can’t help his own smile as he processes the information. 

He doesn’t say anything, and it takes a while for the others to catch on.

It’s almost a full year after the band forms, and they’ve gained considerable traction on The Strip, when Vince and Tommy are clued in.

“I didn’t know tattoos looked so good even after scarring,” Tommy noted during practice, seeing Lola’s record on her shoulder as she moves about the kitchen in a singlet. “Where’d you get it?” 

Lola and Nikki share a look.

“Born with it,” Lola tells him, pulling a cup from the counter and filling it with water. Tommy is dead silent, considering, the cogs in his mind ticking over, frowning with concentration. Lola swallows some pills and follows it with a gulp of water. 

“Are you serious?” Vince asks, catching on much faster than Tommy.

“As a heart attack,” Lola tells him with a slight smile. Nikki makes a noise in the back of his throat and Mick picks out a melody on his guitar.

“So you’re- you’ve got a -?” Vince asks, eyes wide.

“Holy shit, Lols, you’re soulmarked?” Tommy crows, and Lola gives a toothy grin, inclining her head to agree with him. “I’ve never met one in person,” he says, starry-eyed, and Nikki huffs a laugh, “I mean, I have, my cousin’s soulmarked, but like... dude, what are the odds?!” 

“What are the odds?” Lola says gently, looking directly at Nikki, who hides his laugh with a cough, trying not to ruin the bit.

“Have you met them?” Vince asks, he and Tommy looking like eager little puppies to hear more when Lola looks back at them, “your soulmate, I mean.” Mick stops his strumming, giving Lola a long suffering look. Lola, however, looks at Nikki, kinder this time.

“Yeah,” Lola says softly, and Vince and Tommy look like they’re about to explode, “I’m one of the really lucky ones.” 

“You’re killing us here, Lols,” Tommy groans, and Nikki can’t help himself, “who is it? Where are they -?”

“You really think she’d leave her soulmate?” Nikki asked with an amused snort, and the boys turn, eyes wide as saucers. “It’s me, dumbasses.” He confirms, smugly, and there’s silence as the other two process the revelation.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vince all but yells, but he’s excited, beaming from  ear to ear, “of course you assholes seem like you were made for each other, you literally are!” He crows, and is immediately pestering Nikki to see his tattoo.

“This makes so much sense!” Tommy’s still looking at Lola with wide eyes, before his expression turns sunny. “You guys are so fucking lucky, holy shit!” And Lola grins; yeah, every moment with Nikki, she does tend to feel pretty lucky.

[sebbybooks]

Our Vintage Summers(PT3)

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

"All I need is to remember

how it was to feel alive."

-Aurora

My eyelids were heavy as I tried to flutter them open. Slowly my vision came back to me as the blurbs of light and shapes began to take on real form. I had to steady my breath careful not to let my nerves takeover because it took me a while to adjust to my surroundings to figure out where I was and how I ended up back in this old bedroom of mine. I stared mindlessly up at the ceiling watching the cracks that formed around the dandelion shaped crystal chandelier that once radiated the most calming ambient light. As I stare at it now I see that it is nothing more than a hideous piece of architecture from my hellish childhood. Memories began to accompany the pain then right on time images of Sebastian fading into nothing flashed through my brain.

I jolted myself forward when realization finally kicked in but my attempt to get of out bed was short lived. I was met with a stabbing pain that shot through my head at full force that made me wince. I squeezed my eyes shut feeling like at any minute I was going to be sick. You would think I took a nasty beating to the skull from how badly it hurt.

I couldn't move the lower half of my body if I wanted to. I was tightly tucked underneath the duvet that I was burning up under. I laid there immobile and in misery. I couldn't call out for anyone all of my energy felt depleted and I was starting to feel dizzy on top of it. The thoughts in my head wouldn't slow down as they danced around taunting me. The only face I wasn't able to escape belonged to the one person that made me feel like I was going completely insane. Hell, maybe I was going a little mad. There was no way what I saw was real. How could I explain seeing a person vanish before my very eyes? The short answer was I couldn't.

Suddenly the door to the bedroom shot opened I was able to lift my head to look to see who had entered. Quickly coming over to the bed I saw out of the corner of my eye it was my sister Anya. The look of concern she wore on her face quickly diminished when she looked down and saw that I was conscious.

"You're awake!" She whispered. Anya's pinched expression was replaced with a toothy smile. "You had us worried sick Sia. Justin just found you face down on the kitchen floor." I could hardly find it in me to speak so I just let out a exasperated sigh in response. She brushed through my hair gently with her hand careful not to press down on my head too hard, brushing my hair away from my face. I was grateful for that because my hair was starting to cling to my skin. It felt like I was getting hotter and hotter by the second I needed a fan or a window to be let open. I feared I might be at risk of passing out again.

"Jesus Sia you are burning up." Anya said finally stating the obvious as she flipped her hand back and forth over my forehead. I used all the energy I had to raise my hand to motion that I needed air. "Let me go get you an ice pack and turn the AC up." She said as she started to turn around to leave.

"Anya." My voice came out like a croak.

"Yeah sis?"

I had to move my tongue around in my mouth a few times to get a bit of moisture flowing. My throat was so incredible hoarse I could hardly understand my own voice. Plus it pained me to even move my jaw in the slightest. I needed to know so I used all that I had to say his name. "Sebastian?"

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she looked back at me like I had a horn coming from the center of my forehead. Thinking she didn't hear me I attempted to utter his name again. This time she reacted as if I was the one confused. "Sia you hit your head pretty hard now you're just saying random names. Maybe Remi was right and we need to call an ambulance."

I began to pull myself up, but again quickly regretted it. "Anya where. . . where did he go?"

Standing in the middle of the doorway. "Where did who go?" I could hear the genuine frustration laced in her tone.

"Sebastian?" I spoke his name like I was unsure of who I was referring to myself.

Defeated she stared back at me with pity and worry in her eyes. "We met a lot of people at grandma's funeral, but we don't know anyone by that name. The only people here with us is Justin, Remi, and Gavin remember? I'm going to give Dr. Thomas a call after all to see if he will come out and look at you just to be sure that you're ok." She huffed out as she pulled her cellphone from her back pocket.

I don't know why but my eyes began to cloud over with tears. "He showed up to the house tonight right as the storm rolled in." Listening to the sound of my own voice it sounded like I had an ugly cold. I could tell she was trying to ignore me. Despite how badly it hurt to talk I kept going. "We met him earlier on the beach Anya, mom introduced him to us. Sebastian told us that he knew our grandmother why aren't you listening to me?" As delusional and pathetic I must've sounded to top it all off I started to sob uncontrollably. It hurt to even puff out a breath of air. Wet hot tears rolled down my face. I was losing it.

"Hello Dr.Thomas this is Anya Foxwood, Nora and Keith's daughter. I am terribly sorry to be disturbing you this late I wouldn't have called if I didn't think it was an emergency." I began to block the sound of my sister as I reclined my tired body back onto the bed.

The rain that continued to pour down from the sky loudly started to pick up and beat against the windowsill. The drumming sound of thunder accompanied it in the background to add to the mix of noises. Teardrops pooled from the corners of my eyes. I was engulfed in an uncomfortable wave of sadness that I myself couldn't even explain. I didn't want to admit it but I swear it felt like my heart was crying out for him. Which was the strangest sensation I didn't even know him! I started to even second guess if he was real. An that all of this was just apart of a cursed day that refused to end.

I sank my body down further into the bed trying to hold on to the last details of Sebastian and I's conversation. I had this gut feeling about him that I had trouble deciphering if was good or bad. Yet, my wild emotions that jumped out in his presence urged me to quell any doubts that I had. Which was an unsafe mindset I found myself trapped in. He was on the verge of telling me something that he so desperately wanted me to know. Then shit went supernatural.

The room fell silent I didn't even notice when Anya stepped away. She closed the door closing off what little air I did receive. It felt like a sauna in here. I could barely catch my breath. I assumed the pain in my head was worsening because it started to feel like I was spinning, despite the fact I was laying completely still. In all honesty at the risk of sounding dramatic I was convinced in this moment I was dying. I've never had a migraine make me feel like my brain was hemorrhaging painfully slow. I wanted to scream out in agony but my throat felt restricted unable to call out for help. I barely could move a muscle and that was the scariest part of it all. I waited for it to get worse so it would finally be over. I had no choice but to accept whatever was to come freeing me from this torment.

Gasping for air at this point I closed my eyes thinking it would help bring me an inkling of comfort to ease my suffering. Almost on an instant my limbs began to feel more relaxed and a sense calmness washed through my body. I could feel rays of sunlight grazing every inch of my skin. Through my closed eyelids the lights grew brighter like I was laying under direct sunlight of some sorts. When I tried turning on my side I felt tiny grains of sand underneath me and that's when my eyelids shot open. Clearly I died or was dreaming. Somehow I ended up back on the beach

As I raised myself from the sand I looked around in confusion as I watched the strangers around me partake in the elements around them. Couples were strolling alongside the water, children were playing in the sand, families were huddled together smiling and laughing. I scanned the area around me all appeared normal, except something was definitely off.

Pushing myself up I had to quickly access my attire it felt like I was nearly naked. I was dressed in a blush pink high waisted polka dot bikini with a swim top that left none to the imagination. It didn't take long for me to pick up on the attention I was attracting. Mothers with their children stared back at me with disdain while their husbands were doing a poor job hiding the fact that they were skeevy. While it was apparent I stuck out like a sore thumb I noticed something about everyone's choice of modest swimwear and style. They all looked like they stepped out of a scene from a Fitzgerald novel.

A loud nervous laugh escaped from me and I quickly clamped my hand across my mouth. I could sense myself starting to panic, clearly I was experiencing a very realistic dream. I felt every sensation like it was happening in real time. Squinting my eyes from the bright sunlight I was slightly terrified to move and explore my new location. What startled me the most was the fact that I recognized exactly where I was. Spinning around on my bare feet in the hot sand the only thing that was familiar to me was seeing that my grandmother's house was still sitting on the sand dune up ahead.

"How in the hell?" I said aloud, my voice trailing off as I tried to screw my head on straight. The Victorian styled beach house was nearly unrecognizable. Its previous cold and uninviting essence on the outside was replaced with a great deal of decadency and warmth. There were no longer old vines that clung to every crevice on the house. Lively blue and violet hydrangeas adorned it instead as they climbed up the structure of the house. The dead shrubbery was replaced with vibrant yellow forsythia plants that lined against the house. On the front lawn children joyfully chased after a rabbit while men and women whose faces I didn't know were scattered across the front of the house engaged in a party. From the looks of it they were having a good time. All the years I've seen that house it never looked more alive.

"HEY LADY WATCH OUT!!" Before I could move fast enough to see who was shouting to get my attention I was taken out by a flying blue frisbee. Thankfully it missed my face but the thick plastic disc went straight to my neck knocking the wind out of me. Doubling over in pain I crouched down trying to stop my uncontrollable coughing attack. I gasped for air right as I noticed two sets of feet quickly pick up that weapon and take off running in a fit of laughter.

"Those little shits are you alright Miss?" By now surely I could recognize that voice which made my heart flip in my chest. I looked up as I brought my hand to massage the area of impact on my neck. "Sia?" Sebastian said my name carefully upon recognition.

I couldn't blink. If I did I was one hundred percent certain he would waste away again. He didn't look like he did when I last saw him in my grandmother's kitchen. Eyeing him I noticed that he was an exact replica of the man I saw in the photo I found. There was a sun kissed tan to him, his hair was shorter and tindruls of curls fell on his forehead. He was even dressed in the same opened buttoned white linen shirt and blue and white swim shorts. The more I noticed that the similarities were exactly the same my knees started to tremble and I was close to falling onto my ass until Sebastian reached out and grabbed me. Slightly tilted off balance he kept his arms arms secured around my waist so that I wouldn't fall down. I gave into my weight trusting that he would hold me steady. I no longer cared to try to rationalize what on earth was happening. I tipped my head back up at him still in utter disbelief , "You remember who I am?"

He looked down at me and I'm sure we mirrored the same shocked expression. "Of course I remember." Sebastian's chest was rising and falling at a fast speed. The grip he had on my frail frame tightened but it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling. He was holding onto me almost as if he was afraid to let go.

His focus never drifted away from my face which caused me to feel bashful underneath his affectionate gaze. For a minute I was concerned that he had gone mute, sensing what I was thinking he positioned me back on my feet backing away to put distance between us. Sebastian looked like he was fighting with himself to come near me again. My hands twitched just to touch any part of him. I was tired of fighting what I couldn't understand.Hiding my disappointment I looked away just long enough to catch my breath stealing a glance of the house once again. "I have been telling myself not to freak out, but I'm starting to fail miserably."

"None of this is going right." His shoulders were tense like he was unable to relax any muscle. It was visible that whatever was bothering him was making him upset. "I'm still trying to make sense myself, but for right now I need you to trust me so we can get you somewhere where she won't be able to find you like this."

.....

(A/N* Hi beautiful creatures! I know it's taken me a while to update this fic, for a minute I was unsure if I wanted to continue writing it. I promise not to take forever to upload the next part! Just an fyi If you had ever asked me to tag you the reason I didn't was only due to the fact it has been such a long time. Therefore I had it in the back of my mind you simply forgot about it (which is fine!). If you want to know when I post the next part just let me know and I'll happily do so! I hope you guys are having a wonderful day or night! If not I promise it'll get better😘)

[eugenesmorphine]

War’s Over // Eugene Roe Imagine

Taglist: @alienoresimagines

I softly exhaled as I leaned against a building in some area in Austria. I honestly had no idea where the Company and I were. And neither did I care. In this moment, I didn't care if I made it out of this damn war or not. Ever since Bastogne, I guess I have changed. It was one thing seeing men I knew and friends get shot. But now, watching my closest friends being blown to pieces, their bodies being thrown, limbs being torn off. It finally occurred to me how fucked we all were. From then on I guess I grew distant to everyone. Even my friends. I lost many of my closest friends in that forest. And I don't think I had ever been so sad in my life. SO I think if I just distance myself, and just try to think people aren't my friends, it won't hurt as bad or at all even if something happens. But I was wrong. Dead wrong.

  Now here I am. Alone under the hot sun in a random place in Austria, sad and tired. Recently, I wish it was me that had been one of the victims of this war. I had no one to go home to. Almost all the men that have died in all different way, did. My parents had passed away a while back and I was an only child. I had lived by myself for a while, not thinking much of it. I had a boyfriend at home back at New York. Though, I received a letter from him and he ended things. I remember how long and how hard I quietly cried during fire watch that night. I was hurt. And that was the start of my mental down fall. My heart was heavy from then on out.

  It was mid day, I kicked a pebble back and forth between my boots. I was bored. But, there was never much to do around here. Or anywhere Easy Company went in that matter. I yawned as I stared down at the pebble. I sighed, missing a lot of things in that moment. My old boyfriend, my parents, my friends, my home, my bed. I was drained of everything. And for some reason I felt like I could cry. Maybe I did actually break back in the forest. Maybe pieces of me were left behind that I'll never get back. While I was stuck up within my thoughts, I didn't hear the sound of someone approaching me. That was until someone tapped me on my shoulder and I looked up. It was Doc Roe. His piercing eyes drilling deep within mine. And in that moment, my heart felt like it stopped. My face heated up and my mouth went dry. I gulped and looked at him.

  "You okay L/N, you've been distant. We miss having you around you know," his voice was soft. I gave him soft smile, though it was sad. I had missed them just as much, but my own fears and hurt made my walls go up. I wanted to explain what I was feeling to him and my friends, but I just couldn't. I didn't know how to form my emotions into the proper words to tell these men that are my closest friends. I felt awful in that moment. I didn't realize that the guys had actually missed my presence and or noticed my absence. I'm an actual idiot. Doc looked sad and a little more tired than normal. "I've missed having you around Y/N," my heart broke slightly. Eugene and I had been very close. We both were quiet and kept out distance from everyone, that's probably where and what we bonded upon from each other. After my ex had left me, he had found me crying and comforted me. There was something about Eugene that made him so special to me. I didn't know what it was. But after that night when he comforted me, my stomach got butterflies and my heart felt lighter. I remember the smile he gave me and how he told me funny stories about his grandmother back in Louisiana. "I miss the old you Y/N," that sentence hurt the most. How he said it made it even worse. He was sad. Heartbroken if even. I gave him a sorrowful look as the medic's gaze traveled elsewhere.

  "I'm sorry Gene, I really am," I was sorry. I felt awful. I wondered how the others felt. I was so selfish. I tilted Eugene's head up to look at me. His eyes had tears in them. I have never seen him like this. Oh god what did I do. "Gene please don't cry, I'm sorry. I didn't know you guys missed me so much," I rambled on. My heart raced, I panicked to help him. He just kept his eyes on me and wrapped his arms tightly around my torso. I had never seen him this way. I don't believe anyone has. I was shocked at first.

  He pulled away. Looking at me. "Y/N can I tell you something that I've been wanting to tell you since the first days I met you?" he asked, his voice shaky. I nodded, tears filling my eyes as I pressed my lips together into a thin line. I watched as a few tears slipped down his face. "Ever since I first met you and I had a real conversation with you, there was something about you. I never really fully understood the feeling I have had. And I knew you had a boyfriend for the longest time, so I thought it was nothing about falling for a female GI. But once you began shutting yourself off from everyone after what happened to Toye and Gaurnere back in Bastogne, I realized how much I missed you. When I comforted you on the night you were on fire watch, it hurt me to see you like that. Oh god Y/N I love you. I'm so in love with you. I couldn't just not tell you any more," he tone was quick and his hands moved around as he talked. I gulped. I quickly understood the feeling he had given to me in the longest time. Once again I didn't know how to form my feelings into words.

 "Fuck it, " I stated before going up to Eugene and pressing my lips against the Cajun Medic's chapped ones. He kissed back almost immediately. The kiss was short and sweet. I pulled away and looked at him. I laughed and hugged him tightly. "I love you too Gene, I have for a while now. I didn't know what it was back then," I told him.

  In that moment, I felt happy. My shoulders and heart felt no longer so heavy. I had rejoined my friends and they did in fact miss me being with them. And little did I know, in just a few hours, my commanding officer Richard Winters would come and tell the Company and I that the war was over. Germany surrendered. The horror was over. We could go home. And days later, Eugene asked me to come home with him and for me to be his girl. I went back to Louisiana with my GI and met his large and amazing family. Life was great.

   Just a year later Eugene Roe asked me to be his wife with a beautiful diamond ring while we sat on the edge of a steady and beautiful lake. Of course I said yes and almost immediately we planned our wedding. I got a beautiful dress, decorated Eugene's home, invited guests and our special day came quick. I got my flowers, put on my dress, wore the heels, put on the makeup and did my hair, I was ready. The guests were there. Eugene had his dress uniform on and I got ready to walk down the isle. The music played and Eugene's father walked me down the isle. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I saw Eugene's years all the way down the isle. I gulped and reached the alter. I couldn't focus on what the Minister was saying. Only the look Eugene and I were giving each other. My tears and soft cries to be heard. His tears and shaky breath made it even worse. Even if they were happy tears. It made it so hard.

  It came time for our vows. The most nerve wracking moment of a wedding in my eyes. I was going first. I took a deep breath and pulled out the small book I had written my vows to Eugene

  "Eugene. We made it to this day. We got passed Sobel, we got passed every day of training back in Airborne school, hell we got through the war together. Besides the points of us not expressing our love to each other until the actual day the war ended, though later is better than never I guess. But the point I'm making is that we did it together. You always worried about me. I had loved you since the night of fire watch. And here are my vows to you. I promise to deal with your constant worrying about my health. I promise to always try to understand your little accent when you say things like "sizzuhs". I promise to always love and cherish our moments to together no matter what. I promise to never stay mad at you no matter what. Not even when you keep me up late rambling about whatever comes to your amazing mind. I promise to love you no matter what, through sickness and health. These are my vows to you Doc Eugene Roe," It was hard not to burst into tears through these moments. It was his turn now for his vows. I sat and twiddled my fingers as he began to speak.

   "Y/N, I have dreaming of this moment ever since I had became friends with you. At first, I didn't understand what I felt towards you, the thought I had, the feelings you gave me, I pushed them away, thinking they were nothing. It wasn't until a few weeks before the war had ended that I accepted my feelings for you. And my god and I happy that I told you. Hell, we probably wouldn't be here if I didn't tell you. And wkth me saying that, there are many promises I must and I am going to make to you. I promise to always try your cooking, no matter how gross looking or how awful it smells. I promise to always listen to you ramble on and on about whatever is on your mind. I promise to nonstop taking care of you and looking after you, for which it is my job. I promise to always be the shoulder for you to cry on for days that are too stressful. And I know that I want to be with you for the longest time, so I thought it was nothing about falling for a female GI. But once you began shutting yourself off from everyone after what happened to Toye and Gaurnere back in Bastogne, I realized how much I missed you. When I comforted you on the night you were on fire watch, it hurt me to see you like that. Oh god Y/N I love you. I'm so in love with you. I couldn't just not tell you any more. My dearest Y/N. My everything. My now soon to be wife. These are my vows to you," I was crying harder now. His voice was shaky, and between some of his words quiet sobs left his lips. The smooth Cajun man restated what he said to me when he confessed his feelings. God I love him.

  The Minister smiled at us. Handing us our rings to slip onto each other's fingers. "With the power invested in me," he began with a smile, looking between the two of us. "I pronounce you, husband and wife. Mr. Roe, you can now kiss Mrs. Roe!" He finished happily. I wiped my stray tears away quickly, looking at my now husband. He smiled at me, grabbing my waist gently, pulling me close to his body. His left hand left my waist to cup my cheek. His eyes were filled with love and happiness. I smiled at my Eugene, looking into his eyes as the two of us leaned in. His lips pressed against mine. The two of us have kissed hundreds of times before this, but with this, it felt different. A rite of passage.

  I know now that my life is now complete with this man. Eugene Roe is the one for me and now I'm married to him. I'm happy, and I forever will be

[cuddlepilefics]

Whumptober Day 18 – Cold

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Bambam

Caregiver: mostly Jackson & Jinyoung

 Bambam’s POV.:

We were all in a hurry this morning, getting ready for a fansign. I was really struggling to find an outfit I liked and kept asking for advice. I could tell my members were getting fed up because I was making them late. Being afraid of holding them back more, I quickly settled for dresspants and a tight turtleneck shirt before meeting the rest of the group by the front door. “Alright, sorry for taking so long, I’m ready now.” – “Umm, Bambam-ah, don’t you want to take a jacket? The fansign is outdoors and although it looks sunny, it’s not all that warm”, Jinyoung gave me a questioning look. “No, that wouldn’t go with my outfit at all and I just found one that looks okay”, I refused. “Come on, don’t be so stubborn, we don’t want you to get sick” – “You’re not my mom. I’m a fucking adult, I can make my own clothing choices”, I snapped. “Bam, don’t talk back at your hyung like that!”, Jaebeom gave me a stern glance. “Alright, just don’t complain about being cold, we need to leave now anyways”, Jinyoung said, holding his hands up defensively. We left in a tense mood and I have to admit Jinyoung wasn’t lying, there was really a cold wind blowing. Crossing my legs in an attempt to keep them warm I smile at the girl in front of me. I’m just now realizing how much ahgase must love us to wait out in the cold for so long just to talk to us for a few seconds. The thought warmed my heart as my limbs started to feel colder. An hour into the fansign I can’t really feel my fingers anymore. I’m aware of the concerned glances Jaebeom keeps sending my way but refuse to meet his eyes. The way I had acted this morning made it impossible to admit feeling cold now. I rub my hands against my thighs waiting for the next fan to take a seat in front of me.

By the end of the fansign about two hours later I had lost all hope of ever feeling warm again. We gathered in a small circle waiting for our manager to tell us about the change in schedule he had just announced. I had my arms wrapped around me, hugging myself for warmth but when I saw the look Jinyoung gave me, I quickly dropped them to my sides. “This afternoon we want you to go around the city vlogging so we can get some bonus footage for the new album release”, manager-nim told us and I groaned inwardly. Jackson shot me a look and I tried to smile at him, hiding my shaking hands behind my back. When the manager had left we discussed spitting up in smaller groups for the afternoon or staying together. It was decided to get coffee together first and then maybe split up. Well, this was a misunderstanding, I had thought we’d stay at the café but we only grabbed a drink and left for the nearest park. There went my chance of warming up for a few minutes. I sighted holding on to the hot papercup for dear life. Slowly my sense of feeling returned to my fingers and I sighed. “Are you cold?”, Jackson asked walking closer to me. I noticed Jinyoung looking over at me and denied with a forced smile. Jinyoung-hyung hasn’t spoken a single word to me since this morning. I guess he’s really pissed at me for talking back at him and yes, I’m sorry, I know it was wrong but I don’t know how I can admit that now. Jackson wasn’t fooled and after disposing of our empty cups he grabbed my hand in his gloved one. We kept walking beside each other and he slipped our intertwined fingers into the pocket of his jacket. I gave him a grateful smile which he returned with a knowing look.

 Jinyoung’s POV.:

We kept walking around the park, taking pictures and fooling around for the cameras. Youngjae had teased Yugyeom who was in turn chasing the other who tried to escape screaming. So far everything was as usual and I held the camera to capture Mark and Jaebeom doing flips. Aside from the maknae’s screaming in the distance and the hyung’s teasing each other it was strangely quiet. I looked around to see whether Jackson and Bambam had disappeared since I was so used to them being loud it worried me when I couldn’t hear them. They hadn’t actually disappeared but were standing close-by watching the hyungs comparing their acrobatic skills. Jackson seemed longing to join them but couldn’t since he was holding Bambam in a back-hug, wrapping his jacket around both of them. Jackson met my eyes and his eyes showed pure concern for the dongsaeng in his arms. I sighed, of course the younger was cold. The boy is so skinny, there is nothing to keep him warm aside from his clothing, which was pretty thin today considering the weather. Had he just dressed warmer or taken a jacket with him like I told him this morning. I hope he doesn’t get sick now. Noticing my stare Bambam looked up at me too quickly looking away, ashamed. Yes, I feel sorry for him but I’ll let him learn his lesson by himself. He should be aware that I only wanted the best for him and he kept mocking me for it. I hated to admit that it did hurt a bit even though I knew it was his pride speaking.

 Bambam’s POV.:

Of course, Jinyoung knew. He knew I was cold, even had predicted it earlier. I tried to stand as close to Jackson as physically possible, thankful to lean my back against his warm chest. Though I had his arms and jacket around me I still felt cold. It hurt, my bones seemed to have turned to ice and my fingers had taken on a slightly blueish tone. I shifted my gaze from my hyungs to my dongsaengs who were still chasing each other. On any other day I would join them without a second thought and maybe moving around would help warm me up but I felt stiff and frozen in my spot. I feel Jackson let go form a second and shudder immediately only for him to start rubbing my arms up and down. When Jaebeom finally determined that we had enough video-material I had completely withdrawn into my own mind, trying to think warm thoughts, imagining walking along a beach and feeling the sun on my face. It barely was of any use and I was soon snapped out of my thoughts anyways as Jackson shook me slightly. “Did you even hear what I said?”, he asked concerned. “Sorry, spaced out for a second”, I mumbled looking at the ground. “We decided to head home and grab a bite for dinner on the way there, you good with that?”, he repeated and I only nodded not really caring what was happening around me anymore as I could only focus on the pain in my limbs but home sounded good. He smiled and grabbed my hand while we walked lagging behind the rest. On the way home, we grabbed some gimbap and ate while walking, well the others ate, I had no appetite and just wanted to get home, the cold was starting to make me sleepy. I had tiredly declined when Jaebeom asked what to get for me and was now hugging myself because Jackson needed his hands to eat.

When we arrived back at the dorm after what seemed like an eternity, I was completely out of it. Jackson had pushed me straight towards the bathroom after I had kicked off my shoes to let me shower first. I stiffly took of my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water run down my back, goosebumps spreading over my body at the change of temperature. The longer I stood there, the hotter I turned the water. I heard the door open for a minute: “Hey, Bam-ah, I brought you some clothes, they’re on the sink.” I thanked Jackson and started washing myself down, hoping I hadn’t used up too much of the hot water. When I stepped out and toweled off, my eyes fell on the clothes Jackson had chosen for me. God, I loved him so much, he had picked out my thickest sweatpants and a large warm hoodie. I quickly put them on since I felt cold again the second I had left the shower. Leaving the bathroom my members shot me some worried glances and luckily didn’t comment on how long I took. I shuddered walking back to my room and crawled into my bed pulling the blanket up to my face trying to get warm. There was a knock before the door opened. It was Jaebeom, who took a seat on the bed next to me. “You ok, Bam?” I nodded shivering. “Still cold?” I nodded again. “You are aware that you brought this on yourself, right?”, he frowned. “Y-yes, hyung and t-that’s the worst about t-this. I have no one to b-blame excep-pt for myself”, I replied while trying to keep my teeth from chattering. He rubbed my arm through the blanket sighing before he got up and left, closing the door behind him. Being alone I finally allowed myself some silent tears over how terrible I felt.

 Jinyoung’s POV.:

Jaebeom just returned from checking on Bambam. “He’s still cold and doesn’t look to good. All pale and stuff, though he admitted he’s aware it’s his own fault”, Jaebeom sighed. I frowned walking into the kitchen and warming up some milk. Taking the cup out of the microwave I stir in two heaping spoons of instant hot chocolate powder, knowing my dongsaeng likes his drink to be extra sweet. On the way to Bambam’s room I passed by mine and grabbed a thick woolen blanket from the closet. I hid both outside in the hallway while stepping into the younger’s room and found him curled up in his bed, only his dyed hair sticking out. “Hey, everything alright?”, I approached him quietly. Bambam turned around to look at me, still hugging himself tight underneath the blanket. I could see his eyes being slightly reddened and there were tear-streaks on his cheeks. “H-hyung, I’m s-sorry about earlier. I know you were r-right but I j-just w-wanted to look okay for ahgase. A-anyways I s-shouldn’t h-have talked t-to you the way I-I did. Please d-don’t be m-mad at me anym-more”, his voice was shaking and he looked miserable. “You really learned your lesson, huh?”, I asked with a sympathetic smile and he nodded eagerly. Stepping back out I quickly get the blanket and the cacao I had prepared. After placing the cup down on the nightstand, I spread the blanket out over his. “Alright scoot over, let’s make you all warm again”, I whispered softly, climbing into bed with him before handing him the cacao. “T-thank you, hyung. I-I know I m-messed up.”- “It’s ok, I know you regret it, just don’t forget about it. You know I only care about you.”, I reassured. Hugging Bambam tight I kept rubbing his shoulderblade to generate warmth while he slowly sipped his hot drink.

Not long after I had placed the empty cup back onto the nightstand, I could hear my dongsaeng snore softly with his head against my chest. Oh, this boy, he is going to drive me crazy some day.