#and then proceeded to ignore this piece for 2 entire months while i had a existential meltdown

[cadavercowboy]

Business As Usual

Pairing: Stepfather!Nick Fowler x Reader

Summary: If you go looking for attention, Nick is going to give it to you...but it’ll be on his terms.

Word Count: 8.2k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). It’s utterly OOC because this was just an excuse for me to write porn. Stepfather/daughter relationship (it’s ‘I Have Severe Daddy Issues’ o’clock!). Cheating. Manipulation. Implied gaslighting. Dub-con elements. Degradation/humiliation. Hand kink? Spit kink. Choking. Oral sex. Vaginal penetration. Over-stimulation. Face slapping. Forced orgasm. Multiple orgasms. Forced creampie. Nick is an asshole.

A/N: A lot of this is Zee’s fault. It’s somehow always Zee’s fault. I’m also placing full blame on this, the first of the many phases of the 2022 DILF-ication of our boy. He’s giving Dad™ and I’m giving up!

Excitement and nervousness tangle ferociously in the gaping pit that has opened deep in your belly as the sound of the front door shutting echoes through the house. Your mother is off to run some errands, thus leaving you with only the company of your haughty and moody stepfather, Nick. Though you’ve been waiting for what feels like weeks for this exact circumstance, now that the fantasy has become a reality, you have to admit you’re beginning to feel quite intimidated. 

A recent interaction with the formidable man has left you with an uncharacteristic confidence and an unshakable, stubborn determination to win his affections. At first, you’d doubted your own perception of the events and convinced yourself that you’re slightly delusional. But in the following days — given the heated, tense looks and the subtle touches — you could doubt it no longer: Nick was flirting with you. The idea that he had shown an interest in you lit a fire within you and you’re powerless to deny the desire you feel to garner his attention again. 

You wring your hands in your lap before launching to your feet and pacing restlessly through your bedroom. What if Nick is downstairs, fully aware that you’re practically crawling out of your skin trying to muster the courage to go get what you want from him? No, you’re just overthinking this. There’s no way he knows what you’re planning. Right?

Downstairs, Nick drags a firm hand through his short hair and sighs in annoyance. The constant thumping of your feet overhead is driving him crazy. For 20 minutes he’s listened to you track back and forth, back and forth. He wonders if you plan to stop anytime soon or whether you’re going to carry on until you wear a hole right through the floorboards. He tosses his head back with a grunt, trying to refrain from storming up there to scold you for being such a distraction to his work. 

Your fists clench and release at your sides, the muscles bunching with agitation as you mentally build the fortitude to overcome your apprehension. If you wait any longer, any bravery you’ve amassed is going to ooze and seep from your pores, disappearing as quickly as it came. With a sharp inhale, you check your appearance in the mirror and stride to the door. As swiftly as you move, you make sure to do so without making a sound; tiptoeing down the staircase, you keep in mind how much Nick hates it when you’re too loud. The house is silent and empty, not a single noise to indicate Nick’s location, although you know precisely where you’ll find him.

Even on his days off, Nick spends pretty much all of his time in his office. Being a federal agent is a demanding job to be sure, but Nick takes his job more seriously than most and there’s practically never a moment when he isn’t working. Still bearing in mind Nick’s intolerance for interruption, it takes a minute for you to work up the nerve to rap your knuckles against the door. You remind yourself yet again that you’re being ridiculous. You’re his stepdaughter, surely he won’t be upset with you for wanting to speak with him. At least you hope so.

The moment your knock reverberates off the heavy wooden door, Nick's velvety voice calls out to you and immediately grants you permission to enter. Anxiety grips you once again and you find yourself questioning your own sanity. Maybe you had misread the signs. This is wrong on several levels for many reasons and if you end up having in fact misjudged Nick’s intentions, you’re going to suffer an embarrassment you may never recover from. You shake your head as if to dispel the very thought, then take a deep breath before you twist the knob and ease the door open with a long, low creak.

Inside, you find Nick facing the tall windows behind his desk with his broad back turned towards you. Although he’d been working, you’re surprised to find Nick without his customary crisp dress shirt and dark slacks. Instead, he wears a navy patterned button-down over a gray long-sleeved tee; the outfit is complete with gray pants and a pair of overly-clean sneakers. It’s an odd combination, but you suppose this is his idea of casual attire.

At the sound of the door clicking shut behind you, Nick turns to stare at you over his shoulder. His dark brows are lowered slightly, his expression unreadable but ominous nonetheless. He seems perturbed…then again, he usually does.

Perhaps now is not the most opportune moment for you to make a move on him. The icy pools of his irises scan from your feet to your face, taking in every inch of you before glaring into your eyes. His jaw ticks rhythmically and the hands buried in his pockets rustle quietly before he beckons to you with a growled command to come further into the room.

One corner of Nick’s mouth quirks when your feet instantly begin moving, your steps quick and eager. Something about your desperation to please him has always made his cock swell a bit and today is certainly no different. Your cautious eyes peer up at him through your lashes, blinking dumbly as you stand before him expectantly and your legs subconsciously rub together. The motion catches his attention and his gaze shifts lower to observe the cute dress you’re wearing. 

The outfit is undoubtedly due to a recent compliment he’d given you about a similar garment; you’ve been wearing dresses rather frequently ever since. He wonders if you’re aware of how you attempt to please him even with the most subtle and unconscious choices you make. You don’t even realize how easily you bend to his will.

“Did you need something?” Nick inquires shortly, raising a brow as he observes you across the room, still seemingly hesitant and determined to keep a distance.

You shift your weight, swallowing with some trouble as you try to find your voice. 

“I wanted to see what you were doing.”

You cringe both inwardly and outwardly, realizing how terribly silly the words sound; resembling those of a lonely child, dependent on someone else to quell their boredom. Nick almost appears to smile before his lips press into a firm, thin line. He drops his eyes as he gathers several folders and documents into a pile and taps them against the desk to align them into a neat stack.

“I’m working.” The answer cracks through the air like a whip. “I have a job to do and unfortunately, that doesn’t include babysitting or entertaining you.”

He may as well have slapped you across the face considering the way you visibly flinch at the venomously offered words. Nick’s tone is one you’re familiar with — the glacial and sharp nuance of a man prone to sour moods and bouts of utter impatience. You suppose this is to your benefit; Nick’s obvious annoyance has sapped all your confidence, drawing it from within you like a sponge. Maybe it will save you from inevitable embarrassment after all.

Your lungs deflate along with every hope you had of following through with this thoughtless endeavor. Of course Nick isn’t interested in you, he can barely stand the sight of you most days; he was simply being kind in a rare moment of affection and you’re a fool for making anything more of it. Nick watches you with glee, glorifying in the self-conscious way you smooth your hands over your dress and nibble uncomfortably at your lower lip. He’s got you right where he wants you, and when you turn on your heel — surely to abscond from the room in an exodus of shame — he calls to you.

“Come over here,” he orders with surprising softness. 

It’s impossible to mask your shock as you twirl back in his direction, your skirt swishing gently around your bare thighs. Your eyes lock with Nick’s as a brief battle of wills commences. He clearly expects your obedience and something about that makes you want to stomp away all the more. But you’ve already set this half-assed plan in motion and you may never get another chance to go after what you want. What harm could it do to give in to Nick?

Nick’s handsome face twists into a smirk and something mischievous glows in his light eyes as he watches you approach with caution. Your fingers glide along the polished edge of the desk and you grip the wood as if needing to brace yourself, as if keeping the hefty piece of furniture between the two of you is going to save you from him. You pause a few feet away from Nick, but that’s not good enough for him. With a flick of his eyes to the ground before him, he silently directs you to close the small distance. 

Your feet come to a stop mere inches from Nick’s much larger ones, your bare toes scrunching anxiously against the cool floorboards beneath them. Though Nick continues smiling victoriously down at you, you raise your head defiantly and meet his gaze without hesitation. The confident charade is almost convincing, but when he reaches for you, you crumble instantaneously. 

“You pick this out just for me?” Nick ponders, dragging his fingers over the thin strap that sits snugly against your shoulder.

A snort of laughter escapes him when you smirk shyly and shrug your shoulders noncommittally. Even as your eyes shift to the ground, he can see the blatantly hopeful expression on your pretty face and it almost makes him pity you. You couldn’t lie to him even if you tried. Nick tugs at the strap’s stretchy fabric and allows it to snap back against your skin.

“It’s a real pretty dress. I like it,” Nick murmurs, making a point of giving your body a once over. “I like the way you look in it.”

Your cheeks warm slightly and a subtle heat thrums between your thighs. The room suddenly seems to spin as you’re overwhelmed with excitement from just a few simple words. Nick’s admission is all it takes for you to gain back every ounce of confidence you’d come stumbling in here with. You rock forward onto the balls of your feet and boldly place your palms against Nick’s torso, just above his firm abdomen. As your hands glide over the soft material of his shirt and venture towards his chest, you implore your brain to come up with something clever to say.

“What do you like about it?” you ask in your best seductive voice.

Nick would be impressed with your audacity if not for the timid way you refuse to look at him now. Something unrighteous in him gleans great pleasure from seeing you struggle with what you want, with what you’re too afraid to ask for. He knew you’d be easy to manipulate, he just wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. Knowing what a vulnerable spot he’s got you in, he perfectly executes the next step of this iniquitous game of push and pull.

His strong hands wrap firmly around your wrists, the warmth pleasant and favorable until he applies more and more pressure. Nick squeezes your joints with bruising force, tutting at you as if you’ve done something wrong. He uses his grip on your arms to yank you off balance, gathering the limbs in one of his large hands to hold you against his body as he leans close to your ear.

“You want a man’s approval so badly…is that it, little girl?” he taunts with a mean-spirited whisper. “Just crave their attention.”

Shame ignites a fresh wave of heat in your cheeks upon hearing Nick’s cruel response. It isn’t the first time he’s implied that you have a desperate need for acceptance from the men in your life. On occasions when he’s being especially malicious, he’s even gone as far as mentioning that maybe if you were better behaved and more compliant, perhaps your father would not have abandoned you and your poor, innocent mother. Nick knew that particularly savage barb would only make you more malleable to his wishes and it’s a tactic he’s learned to use sparingly though strategically. 

Nick studies you as your wavering fortitude crumbles to bits and your eyes gloss over with an abundance of moisture. He’s elated to see how much his comment has affected you. The more he plants the seed of your need for male attention and acceptance, the greater the benefit he receives from the crop it yields when you continue to prove him right. You’ll do anything just to earn his literal and figurative embrace, which is precisely what he wants.

“Well, you sure know how to get it,” Nick sneers hotly against the shell of your ear, punctuating the insult with a rogue hand sneaking under your short skirt to grip the soft flesh of your ass.

Your voice cracks around a soft moan that is muffled by the fingers buried up to the knuckles in your mouth. No matter how hard you press your tongue against the intrusive digits, Nick merely applies more pressure to the slick muscle, shoving his fingers even further until you audibly gag around them. He keeps you settled in his lap with your head tipped down so your watery eyes remain on him. You can hear the sound of his other hand working furiously around his cock, which is exposed through the fabric of the slacks that hang open around his trim hips.

Saliva coats the length of his fingers and the slender digits slip and slide against one another as he pumps them into your open mouth. A flood of drool dribbles down your chin as your jaw hangs open and a thin stream begins to trickle across Nick’s wrist, running along his sinewy arm and creating a dark splotch on the bunched sleeve of his shirt. You struggle to breathe through your nose with your stepfather’s hand practically stuffed down your throat, gagging until tears spill from your eyes. Nick clicks his tongue, eyebrows furrowed piteously as he slowly drags his whorled fingertips over your taste buds.

You manage to draw in a much-needed breath before sniffling and coughing harshly. Nick’s fingers glide over your lower lip, pulling it down and letting it flop back in place before his thumb sweeps through the moisture on your chin. He collects most of your residual spit on his fingers, then drops his hand to his lap to smear the saliva along the tip of his cock; the reddened flesh already shiny with pre-cum as he switches hands to viciously fuck his wet fist, inadvertently bouncing you in his lap with each jostling movement of his hips.

With the hand previously wrapped around his length, he reaches up to grab your face, his palm still overly warm from the friction. He squeezes your cheeks until your mouth puckers and he chuckles at how stupid you look. Stupid and absolutely debauched given the thick splatters of cum that cling to the tip of your nose, your brow, and your cheekbones from when he’d jerked off over your pretty face earlier.

Evidently, Nick hadn’t taken too kindly to being slapped and called an asshole in response to his teasing if the ensuing events were anything to go by. You ended up on your knees, under an onslaught of insults and degradation as Nick pleasured himself above you; being taught a lesson you’d surely not forget. He had every intention of stopping things there before it went too far, but when he saw your hopeful excitement as his cum spilled across your skin and coated your features, something in him snapped. There was no hope of holding himself back from showing you precisely how you could earn a man’s approval.

“Are you my good girl?” Nick rasps as his fingers gather the sticky white remnants from your heated skin.

Your eyes light up as you nod eagerly and he half expects you to start panting with your tongue lolling out like an over-excited puppy. Tapping his knuckles against your mouth, he raises a single brow and you obediently part your lips. He shoves his cum-slathered digits inside and — without even having to be told — you seal your mouth shut around his fingers and suck; your tongue sliding between each one to slurp his seed enthusiastically. When he tries to pull his hand away, you’re quick to wrap both of yours around his wrist, keeping his arm in place so you can lick and suck at his salty skin.

All the while, Nick still pumps his cock rhythmically. The slick friction created by the lubrication of your saliva is rapidly sending him hurtling towards another orgasm. He tips his head back, teeth digging into his lower lip and eyes hooded as his thighs spasm beneath you. You don’t know what comes over you, but you find yourself scooting closer and closer to Nick, fitting your pelvis above his and tilting your hips towards the sizable erection in his hand.

You take his long fingers even deeper until your mouth is stretched painfully around the thick digits and you’re salivating uncontrollably. Each time you whimper and suck harder against his fingers, Nick grunts in response; his abs tightening and rippling under his gray shirt as his orgasm fast approaches. He’s so caught up in imagining how your lips would feel wrapped around him that he misses the way your weight shifts then disappears altogether as you slide off his thighs and drop to the ground between his feet.

The sheer length and girth of Nick’s cock is daunting from this perspective, but you’re determined not to let that deter you. Not when you’re this close to what you were after. Your eyes are locked onto Nick’s strong hand, entranced by the way his tanned fingers tug up and down the smooth skin of his erection. Your mouth waters. 

Licking your lips in anticipation at the sinful sight, it’s torture to watch Nick slide his fist along the thick shaft that bounces only inches from your face and do nothing about it. With yet another uncharacteristic rush of bravery, you lean in and sweep your tongue over a prominent vein that runs the length of Nick’s straining shaft, not caring when his knuckles catch your sensitive lip and pinch it against your teeth. The moment the tip of your tongue makes contact with Nick’s member, his eyes whip open and he curls forward, immediately wrapping a hand around your throat to force you backwards.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, fingers pulsing against the delicate length of your neck as he shakes you slightly then pulls you close enough that the sharp tip of his nose brushes yours.

“Please,” you mewl pathetically, putting on your best puppy dog eyes as you beg.

The wavering, pleading tone of your voice nearly brings him to his knees. Any chance he had of stopping this runaway train before it derails and lands you both in trouble flies out the window. You shatter every remaining bit of his self control with a single whimpered word, although he has no plans of allowing you to maintain that power.

“Did you want something, sweet girl?” Nick coos, the soft and sympathetic tone he uses belying the angry, sinful fire in his crystalline eyes.

He slides his wide palm along your neck until it cradles the back of your head and your stomach flips with excitement, believing that Nick is finally going to allow you to take him into your wanting mouth. You arch forward with cautious eyes, craning your neck until you’re inches from his crotch so there can be no doubt about what you want. Your tongue has barely snuck past your shiny lips before Nick takes himself in hand and slaps the hot flesh of his cock across your cheek.

“Stupid little thing…doesn’t even know how to use her words,” he barks as he drags the weeping tip along your lips, holding fast against your skull so that you cannot possibly get close enough to suck his dick. “So fuckin’ impatient, you could barely even wait for your mother to leave the house. I know you were upstairs creaming those girly little panties just thinking about how you were gonna get your own stepfather to touch you, hmm? Thought you’d flaunt your ass a little so you could get some attention, is that it?”

Through his tirade of humiliating words, you’re still fighting against his grip to get your mouth on him. You don’t even care whether or not his insults are true, the only thing on your mind is tasting him. And besides…he’s the one who flirted with you, otherwise you wouldn’t even be here. You hope your stubborn antics entice Nick…make him appreciate your need to please him. All you can focus on is satisfying him. All you can think about is making him feel good. Isn’t that enough to earn his affection?

When your lips touch Nick’s hand and nearly brush against his length, he shifts one leg and plants the sole of his sneaker squarely against your chest. He extends the limb, his strong calf muscle bunching and bulging beneath his pants as he sends you toppling onto your back. Your elbows knock against the wooden floor with a resounding thud and the air leaves your lungs in a dramatic rush.

“Look at you, you’re pathetic,” Nick observes nastily as he stands from his chair to tower over you. He leans over and grabs your chin firmly, yanking you up onto your knees so that he can slap his cock against your cheek again, then slide the pulsing tip between your lips. “This what you wanted? You wanted daddy in your mouth, huh?”

With your lips stretched wide around his girth and your tongue immobile beneath the weight of his cock, you can only hum in confirmation. The way he speaks to you makes you squirm in the most disgraceful way; a stark reminder of how wrong this is and how dirty you feel behaving this way with your stepfather.

Nick thrusts his hips and his length reaches the back of your throat with such force that tears begin to seep from your eyes. The moan that escapes around the appendage stuffed in your mouth causes Nick to inhale loudly, the air hissing through his perfect teeth as his length twitches against your tongue.

“You look so good down there,” Nick pants with a rare show of genuine praise. “Exactly where you belong…on your knees like a worthless whore, choking on daddy’s fat fucking cock.”

He grows painfully hard as you whine around him and desperately fight to breathe, battling your gag reflex to take every inch of him without choking. You swallow him down in earnest; licking, slurping, and gagging as you do your best to impress the dominant man. Your display of unabashed corruption threatens to make Nick explode then and there, something he has no intention of doing without first being buried deep inside you.

Crouching down, Nick grabs you by your hair and pulls your head back at an extreme angle that forces you to lose your balance and topple over. He comes with you, bracing one hand beside your head as he hovers threateningly over you. When he settles between your legs, his bare cock rubs deliciously against your panty-clad mound and you suck in a breath. The friction is enough to wreak havoc on Nick’s nearly non-existent restraint, but when he glances down, the sight he’s met with makes his head spin: a wetness darkening the crotch of your innocent-looking cotton panties that unleashes something feral in him. 

Nick wedges his huge hands under your armpits and drags you up with him as he stands back up. As dreadfully heavy as his balls are with the need to bury himself in your pussy as soon as possible, he’s not going to fuck you on the floor like some horny, overzealous teenager. The squeak you let out as he drops you heavily on his desk and the plastic cap of a pen digs into the softness of your ass is adorable, but that’s not what Nick is thinking about. His entire attention is focused on shoving the fabric of your dress up and out of his way, the harsh tugging of your clothing making you shoot your hands out behind you in order to remain upright. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Look how wet you are,” Nick spits through clenched teeth, scolding you as if you’ve done something offensively wrong.

Now your cheeks are positively melting with a blazing inferno of shame and you turn your head away, too embarrassed to watch the way his eyes focus between your trembling thighs. Nick is breathing laboriously above you, fingers trembling with the need to rip away the thin scrap of material that hides you from him. If he isn’t buried deep within the tight heat of your pussy right now, he fears his head may explode — both of them. He can’t possibly hold back any longer.

You flinch slightly at the first rough contact of Nick’s knuckles brushing your sensitive folds as he yanks your panties to one side. His pupils swallow the remnants of his cold, blue irises at the sound of your breathless gasp and the sight of your soaked cunt. He paws mindlessly at his pants which still hang loosely at his hips, shoving them lower along with his boxers so that his skin is exposed to mid-thigh.

Suddenly you’re panicking while Nick situates himself between your thighs and forces them open to make room for his large body. His cock bobs between you, bouncing dangerously close to your center. Sure, you’ve given this plenty of thought, but it was nothing more than a fantasy; never in your wildest dreams did you imagine it actually becoming a reality.

Though you shuffle awkwardly along the slippery surface of Nick’s desk, he’s quick to latch his large hands around the underside of your thighs as he squeezes the soft flesh and pulls you back to the edge. Your heart skips a beat when he bends at the waist, his lips only inches from your pulsing core. The thought of his mouth devouring and pleasuring you has you panting and quaking, the warm wetness of the saliva he spits forcefully against your pussy has you gulping loudly. Hips wriggling and restless, your mouth suddenly grows dry with unease when Nick stands at his full height and shoves you until you’re forced to take your weight on your elbows while he angles your pelvis up towards him.

Typically, Nick would warm his girl up and at least prepare her a little, but he simply doesn’t have the patience to do that for you. So desperate and ready to take you — to make you take him — after seeing you behave with such depravity. Your eyes widen and your jaw falls slack as his cock sits heavily atop your pubic bone and the silky firmness drags against your own flesh as he fits the bulbous head directly over your throbbing clit. 

The heat of his massive appendage sears you, sending bolts of lightning through every inch of your body as you prepare for the initial discomfort of his length breaching you. You expect Nick to take his time and slowly push into you considering how large he is, but he doesn’t allow you that courtesy. Offering no concern for your pleasure, Nick shifts his hips and inserts the blunt head of his cock into you, though he has no intention of stopping there. He doesn’t think you deserve to be treated with care, he knows you don’t really want to be.

You’re certainly wet enough to ease the entrance of his thick member, however without first stretching you out, your pussy is clenched so tightly around him that he can’t fit more than an inch or two inside. He proceeds without pause, not giving you a moment to adjust and you whine in protest; a sound which Nick takes as beseeching encouragement.

“My needy little girl,” he murmurs. “You wanna be stuffed full…don’t you, baby? Just want someone to love you, poor thing.”

Although the words are cooed softly, they’re teasing, taunting, and heavy with condescension. Ignoring your whimpers of objection, Nick seeks to give you just what he’s accused you of wanting. With several pointed thrusts of his hips, he manages to feed you a few more inches until you’re crying out with the aching pressure between your thighs. He shifts and leans even more of his weight into you, causing you to groan in a way that has him smiling wickedly. He’s decided he’s waited long enough to have you.

Paying no mind to any discomfort or pain it may cause, Nick slams his hips forward and with one swift and fluid motion, he’s bottomed out. The intense burning stretch prompts a howl to part your lips and your head slams into the surface of the desk when your arms can no longer bear your weight. Before you have a chance to recover from Nick’s harsh filling of your tight pussy, he attempts to pull out, your rippling walls making it somewhat difficult for him.

“Tight little snatch doesn’t wanna let me go,” he puffs hotly, strong hands digging fervidly into your waist as he drags his cock slowly from your body.

Unable to handle another forceful drive like the last, you squirm beneath Nick and try to wiggle away from the pulsating dick that rests just within your clenching channel. He merely smirks at your distress and fails to hold back a ridiculing scoff. The hands braced along your torso journey upwards towards your breasts, then under your body where they curl around your shoulders from behind. Nick takes one long inhale before he digs his fingers into your skin and slams your hips into his, forcing your body to accommodate his incredible girth.

Your mouth opens on a silent scream and tears trickle from the corners of your eyes. Though Nick’s brutal treatment is overwhelming, your ears are ringing with how inexplicably good it feels. With your pussy squeezing and oozing around him, you know it won’t take much for you to explode regardless of how rough he’s being with you. The stimulation against your clit from the coarse hairs at the base of his cock as he presses as deep as he possibly can has you clawing your nails into the wood beneath you. Your body shakes uncontrollably and you circle your hips, not sure if you’re trying to escape the sensation or scramble closer to it.

Nick repeats the motion until he’s so deep it hurts and you feel as though your muscles are cramping. The pain and pleasure wash over you in equal and immense waves, rendering you incapable of coherent thought. Your body moves mindlessly when you reach out to brace your palms against Nick’s stomach in a wordless bid for him to back off and the stinging slap across your cheek sends you hurtling right back down to Earth.

His face is worryingly angry now and it makes you want to cower. With nowhere to go, all you can do is mewl helplessly when he yanks one of your thighs around his pelvis and shoves the other leg towards your chest. The position has you completely exposed, your leaking pussy on full display as he splits you open with his cock. A jarring soreness blossoms from where his swollen cock stabs persistently against your tender cervix. Your damp palms slap noisily against the hard surface beneath you as you try to drag your body away in search of some relief.

“You wanted this so bad, don’t run from it now,” Nick hisses, pinning your hips down as he begins to fuck into you savagely. “What did you expect me to do when you came in here batting your eyes and practically dripping on my floors? If you didn’t want daddy to fuck you like a little tramp, you really shouldn’t have done that.”

Nick pounds into you so hard that your tear-filled eyes roll back and you’re moaning in the most unbecoming way. Your throat is dry and raw and you know you’re moments away from what is beginning to feel like the best orgasm you’ve ever had. When your eyes return to their rightful place, they clash with Nick’s and your brows furrow as you’re met with staggering pleasure at the passionate, lustful heat that burns there. 

As he pounds into your sweet, slippery pussy, Nick tries to ignore how your face is crinkled in ecstasy as you watch him with blatant adoration. Admittedly, the pornographic way you’re responding has him hardening noticeably, but that doesn’t matter. Staring into your wide and doting eyes, he doesn’t want you to think he gives a shit about your pleasure. This isn’t special to him.

Crashing a clammy palm against your cheek, Nick forces your head to the side with jolting swiftness. He wrangles your legs while still fucking into you and manages to skillfully flip you over onto your stomach. With your thighs pressed together in this position, Nick feels impossibly large and the sensation of unbearable fullness has drool trickling from your parted lips.

“Please...oh god,” you choke out, the words slurring out from your slack mouth. “I can’t, daddy. It hu—.”

“Hurts?” he barks, cutting you off. “It hurts? Good. That’s good, baby. That’s what you need.”

As your hands scramble for purchase and your upper body slides across the desk with each punishing forward motion of Nick’s hips, you scatter the stack of papers he had so neatly gathered earlier. A sheet clings to your sweaty palm and another slips under your face as you rest your burning cheek against the cool wood. With tears flowing and drool dribbling steadily from your lips, pools of liquid gather and begin to smear the black ink of the presumably important document you lay upon. You shove the paper away from your sticky face and Nick catches sight of the smudged type, slamming a palm down on the ruined document.

“You’re making a fucking mess of my work,” he growls, lifting and then shoving your head so that your skull thunks against the desk. “Maybe I should make a mess of this pretty pussy. Huh? Should I?”

All you can do is whine pitifully in response; you’re too scared of angering Nick further and given the way he pins you in place and buries his cock all the way to the root, you’re utterly mindless. With a sharp slap on your ass and a powerful thrust, you’re finally hit with a rattling orgasm that forces you to lose control of your body. Your arms flail wildly at your sides and your knees shake and buckle as your pussy spasms with release. 

“Nasty slut…creaming all over my cock like that,” Nick grunts, revealing his own wavering control as he grits the words through clenched teeth. “Such a bad, bad girl.”

His words embarrass you and you wonder whether you are a bad person for getting off on this. Tears spill rapidly and you sniffle as you choke back a blubbering cry while Nick still grinds unwaveringly against your backside, fucking you through your orgasm until you grow horribly sensitive. All the while, he continues berating you, shaming you for letting him fuck you and for finding release on your stepfather’s cock.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” you stutter pathetically, your broken sobs only fueling Nick’s hunger to destroy you wholly.

Another swift slap halts your warbled words as Nick palms your face and presses it firmly into the desk, forcing your cheek into the puddle of drool you’ve left beneath yourself. You try to squirm out of his hold and away from the cold, slick mess, but he’s relentless and easily keeps you in place. Following a whine of protest, Nick leans in to spit harshly in your face. The hot saliva slips over your nose and lips before joining yours on the desk below.

“Lick it up,” he demands, pressing more intently on the hand braced against your face. 

Your jaw vibrates and lips quiver as you begrudgingly open your mouth and the tip of your tongue peeks out. Nick grows impatient and slaps you once more, prompting you to obey his orders more quickly. He watches with rapt interest as your tongue sweeps through your combined saliva. The obscene sight finally halts his gyrating hips and he tucks his pelvis snugly against your own as he sees you obediently lapping at the puddle.

“That’s it, there you go,” he purrs, his cock retracting with surprising ease until he’s nearly slipped free from your soaked pussy. “Maybe your real daddy would have stayed if he knew what a good girl you can be.”

“Nick, p-please,” you beg as you twirl your hips in search of more friction; seeking out the feeling of him buried back inside you. 

You’re so close and — with all shame long forgotten in the heat of your neediness — you want nothing more than for the man who serves as the only father figure in your life to make you cum. It’s undignified and it’s sinful, but you are far beyond caring. Nick answers your unspoken question with both force and fervor, slamming so deep and hard into your depths that your pussy produces an embarrassingly wet squelch and your juices splash against your thighs and his.

“Guess you couldn’t make him stick around by showing him what a well-trained whore you are, huh? But you had no issue trying that shit on me. Thought that would fill the void, didn’t you? Fucking your own goddamn stepdad,” Nick rambles, growling and mindless as he stuffs and stretches you to your absolute limit. 

His hands claw at your bare shoulders until they both eventually find purchase around your delicate throat. Angling you up, he crushes your smaller form to his firm chest, his hot breath brushing past your over-heated cheeks as he pants rapidly against the shell of your ear. Sweat drips down his forehead and lands on your collarbone before trickling along your cleavage. His warm lips brush your sensitive earlobe when he snarls his next words.

“Tell me…is there anything fatherly about the way I’m giving you this cock?”

The sound that erupts from your chest is that of a wounded animal; distressed and bleating. Seemingly fueled by your agonized noises and the sheer wrongness of his own words, Nick pounds harder into you with a renewed vigor as he brutishly slams your chest forward and pins you against his desk once more. 

He plants his feet beside yours and practically climbs on top of you as something animalistic and carnal blooms within him. Nothing matters to him except the rabid desire to overpower you and fill you full of his seed. The very thought of watching his thick cream drip from your used body has his head spinning and his dick swelling so much you squeal with discomfort. 

Your pelvis bumps painfully into the sharp edge of the desk and though you know the soft flesh will surely bruise, you can’t focus on anything but how full you feel. Before you have a chance to beg Nick for mercy, an oppressive heat begins between your legs and your stomach lurches. 

“F-fuck, I think I’m gonna—”

You aren’t given the chance to finish the statement before Nick is preventing the words from emitting from your lips. He slams a heavy palm over your mouth, fingers digging into your cheekbones as he leans in close.

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care,” he grunts. “Don’t wanna hear you…don’t wanna hear your fuckin’ mouth. Just wanna hear how fucking soaked this pussy is. She wants my cock so fuckin’ bad…just stay still for me and take it.”

He punctuates the notion with several determined thrusts which fill the room with the sound of your wetness and the deplorable smacking of colliding flesh. With your fingers and toes curling along with your arching spine, a blinding orgasm overcomes you. Your legs shake as your core constricts until Nick can barely move, though that doesn’t prevent him from trying. 

Among a litany of loud curses — his voice sharp and strained — Nick fucks into you with harsh but shallow movements; your trapped moans further dampen his sweaty palm as he muffles your pleasured exhalations. His cock spears your sore cunt, every ridge and vein lightning your nerve endings on fire with each drag of the hard flesh. 

A garbled sound claws its way up Nick’s throat and you know what’s about to happen. You try helplessly to shift away and force him to pull out, although when he snatches your wrists and pins them against your lower back with both of his hands, his full body weight laid over top of yours, you know it's of no use.

Every pulse and twitch of his cock has you inching towards another orgasm as each muscle in your own body tremors with exertion. Just when you’re about to tumble over the precipice, Nick ceases moving altogether. All you can do is lie there and take it while Nick explodes with an echoing roar, his engorged cock throbbing as he floods your sopping pussy and drenches your womb with ropes of his hot cum. You begin to writhe beneath him, uttering a hoarse whine that quickly morphs into a cry of desperation. 

“Don’t stop,” you plead, almost in tears.

He continues releasing into your pliant body, a shudder coursing through him as his cock jerks, still buried balls deep in your messy cunt. You manage to free your wrists from Nick’s grip, but he refuses to let you up. Even picking up on the distant sound of the front door opening then rattling shut, he won’t move. Your blood runs cold when you hear your mother’s swift approach, her keys jingling loudly with every determined step. 

A sigh of relief escapes you once she passes and detours towards the kitchen, however that moment of calmness is short-lived as Nick ruts insistently against you. Although his cock softens within your silken walls, it remains swollen enough to stimulate you with every pump of his hips. Your peep of surprise prompts his over-sensitive cock to jump and he grinds into you with purpose. He swore not to care about your pleasure, but he longs to watch you fall apart for a third time. He needs you to cum for him again.

“Better be quiet, little girl,” Nick warns, curling over you and inserting three long fingers into the moist recess of your mouth as he humps weakly against you. “Unless you want your mother to come in here and find you…see you being used like a sloppy whore by your stepdaddy. I don’t think she’d be very proud knowing what a slut she raised.”

Nick’s vicious words send a burst of ashamed heat racing through your whole body, although the burning sensation only seems to gather directly between your slick thighs. Your clit pulses with every harshly spoken syllable and that combined with the hot, sticky stimulation from his half-hard cock — lazily fucking your cum-filled pussy and rubbing you just right — sends you over the edge.

Without warning, your entire body stiffens and you do your best to subdue your pleasured groan as you suck the digits stuffed between your lips. Your cunt is aching and tender, but still manages to ripple and clench so forcefully around Nick’s length that he slides right out of you; a warm rush of your juices and his abundant cum pouring out in thick rivulets which collect messily in his pubic hair and drip to the floor between your bare feet. 

Before you truly have an opportunity to revel in your release, Nick is interrupting the euphoric moment by yanking you upright and spinning you round to face him. You tip your head up to meet his chilly stare, struggling to focus your bleary eyes on his attractive face. A face which displays none of the discomposure you feel in your current frazzled and fucked-out state. Nick smiles in a way that makes your skin crawl, the sight of his gleaming white teeth more predatory than affectionate or comforting.

“Get on your knees. Suck me clean,” he utters with false patience, the infernal spark in his eyes simply daring you to say no.

Gulping audibly, you grip the edge of the desk to stabilize yourself as you drop to the hard floor with shaky legs. Your knees settle uncomfortably on the unforgiving wood and the musky scent of sweat and sex surrounds you. Nick studies you unflinchingly, his eyes boring into you as you observe his flaccid cock, still smeared with your combined fluids.

As you lean forward, you swear you can hear Nick gasp shakily. For once, you feel as though you have the upper-hand. You move with calculated delay as you walk the tips of your fingers up his muscular thighs before wrapping them around the waistband of the disheveled pants that hang loosely from his hips. Another tense moment passes. You can feel him growing impatient and choose not to push your luck. You want to be good for him, after all.

The flavor that assaults your taste buds as your tongue flicks out to tentatively lick the soft flesh presented to you has you eagerly wrapping your lips around the head of Nick’s cock. He groans at the wet heat of your mouth and you groan at the balmy, silky weight of his length against your tongue. You suck gently, admiring the way you taste together; Nick’s sweat and cum are salty and potent, your own juices more subtle and sweet. The perfect amalgamation; mingling in a heady and complimentary mixture, but each distinct in their own way. 

You can’t get enough and you engulf Nick with your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you suckle determinedly. His cock feels heavy and strange in its lax state, but you swallow him skillfully nevertheless. The pulsing suction of your greedy mouth prompts Nick to plant both of his hands around the back of your skull and pull you forward until your face is buried in the thatch of hair at the root of his length and cum smears along the bridge of your nose and your cheek. 

“Such a sweet thing,” he murmurs, his words encouraging you to bathe him in your saliva until all that remains is the untainted taste of his flesh.

When your swirling tongue brushes the delicate skin of Nick’s now-empty balls, he yanks your mouth away; his cock twitches at the thought of you slurping obediently there and he knows just how risky that will be with your mother and his wife merely a room away. Instead, he hastily shoves himself back into his boxers, fixes his pants, and plops into the previously vacated leather chair. He adjusts the bunched sleeves of his tee and smooths his hands over the open lapels of his shirt. You remain perched on your knees — disheveled and expectant, your dress a wrinkled mess — awaiting some sort of acknowledgement from your stepfather. 

Nick leans his elbows on the surface of his desk and begins to rifle through the stack of confidential papers he’d fucked you over, annoyed at the stains of sweat, spit, and tears. He returns to his work like you’re not even there. Your stomach drops and your eyes mist over with a sting of disappointment. Though you know it is childish to have expected him to praise you or hold you after — not to mention dangerous if you hope to protect the secret you now share — you can’t help the hope you have for him to at least say something to you. Rather, he proceeds as if nothing has happened between you.

“I have work to do,” Nick informs you coldly, not even sparing a single glance in your direction. “You should go get cleaned up.”

Seeing no movement from you, Nick finally offers his attention. The emptiness in his blue eyes makes you shudder and the way he curls his lip in what can only be described as disgust finally prompts the tears gathering in your eyes to spill forth. Of course you were stupid to expect any sort of affection or appreciation from the wicked man. He’s acting as if nothing has happened because it hasn’t…not for him anyway. You were nothing more than a fuck to him. A hole. A means to find release.

With that in mind, you rise clumsily to your feet and scurry with haste towards the door. Deep down, you’re still hoping for Nick to call out to you, to say something that will let you know this interaction meant anything to him the way it had for you. But the silence you’re met with hurts more than any of the nasty, insulting things he’d said to you earlier. 

The skin of your thighs sticks together as you make your exit, a cruel reminder of how callously your stepfather has used you. You swipe agitatedly at your face, smearing your tears and the drying cum from your skin. Though you fight to bury the sobs that bubble up from deep in your chest, one sad and strangled sound escapes you. And it makes Nick smile when he hears; satisfied with his efforts, knowing he has you right where he wants you yet again.

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

[ssouledout]

well helllooooooooo, it’s been a MIN

it’s been a HOT min honestly. i haven’t been on here in years.. like actual years. i kinda skimmed through my old entries and i want to actually sit down and read each one. because what a time that was!!!! i realize that this blog represents pieces my faith journey 🤯 i don’t think i intended it to be that?? but i was so on fire for Jesus and it really showed. was just barely starting my faith journey and i knew i was in for a ride.. but girl lemme tell you. IT’S BEEN A RIDE LOL. and im just getting started. i want to catch up on what happened these past 2ish 3ish years. 

we’ll start with my love life lol. i’m still single 😇 halo emoji because i’m truly content here right now. and God gave me peace when I left Matt 2+ years ago. like immense peace. but as time went on I started entertaining thoughts that made me question everything that happened. as if I completely forgot what God brought me out of. i became way more social and active on ig and started getting attention from a hs crush.. ignored the holy spirit’s alarm bells and entertained that SMH (if all of my worldly friends told me to stay away, then you know it’s bad bad lol). but i lowkey wanted to check it off my bucket list. also.. with God anything is possible right? i proceeded with much caution and i made sure that didn’t get far. but my character was changing. not entirely because of this man, but just over all. literally saw myself sliding back into who i WAS.. idk where to begin. lemme just say that life away from God ain’t it. especially after he has delivered you from some things. remember that post when i said i gave up mary jane for good? God knew i wasn’t actually ready to give that up yet. after about 8 months of staying weed sober (that’s a long ass time, shows that God was really at work in my heart!!), i started smoking again and thought that if i did it with family members, it was “fine”. all this that i mention was the start of my spiritual and mental downfall. i pinpointed it when it was all happening but i continued living life this way (i dont even want to say it was the old me.. it was different. like I was more in tune with the holy spirit this time. and i was drinking often and partying, but living in my parents’ home. hardly drank ever in college. had wayyy more money than before. confidence was building from working out consistently) until i was unrecognizable to myself. girl i was so broken. but that’s what sin and disobedience does. i reconnected with a lot of people from my past and met new people along the way. reconnected with hs friends. my northridge friends. all the men from my past lollllll (didnt plan this, but it happened?) i even re-gained *feelings* for someone in my past past. but after hanging out with him, those feelings went away thank you Jesus. men make me CRINGE LOL. i see what the enemy was trying to do though. why did i reconnect with these people? idk. i was getting comfortable being more social and felt it was fine to reconnect? prob bc i was feeling more confident too. priorities were just out of line.. aka where was God in this?? far away 

speaking of confidence though.. my body composition is different. she got a booty now, a toned back, and thicker thighs. my weight fluctuates a lot but she’s been looking and ✨feeling✨ good. waist trainers WORK btw. but i stopped wearing them for a while now (not to sound annoying and cliche but diet and exercise is more effective). 

that job i was venting about in previous posts... i stayed for 2 years and some months. it was bad. broken, evil, money hungry company. picked up some bad drinking habits there. formed friendships around gossip and getting drunk 🤢 like who was i?! unrecognizable i tell ya. made me sad realizing that one of my best friends who was also my coworker played a huge role in this. had to distance myself from her all year and it’s been good for my well-being. and she respects the distance i think. things are just different now but im happy with it. after maxim, i got a different recruiting job. was feeling so happy and blessed about it untilllllll my manager... not getting into that rn. in short, he gave off entitled, predatory, bipolar, immature vibes. God used that tho to make me leave.. because ever since i left my job in aug, i’ve been ON FIRE for the Lord!!! taking me from faith to faith. i’m back n betta baby. God’s been trying to 👏  talk 👏  to 👏 me, and i can hear him better now that i’m putting distractions aside. i fasted for the first time in april. and God was quiet - he was like “😗 you already know what you need to work on”. it was sooooo hard for me to let go of my sinful lifestyle.. partying was fun and it was part of my identity. like fr. identity- that’s a whole topic for another time. anyway, i went back to partying after that fast 🙃 this was really recent btw. willingly doing drugs but feeling the conviction. like girl didn’t God bring you out of all of this? thank God for his faithfulness, i don’t deserve his grace!!! in this season God is basically showing WHO he created me to be and how those things i attached myself to don’t serve me, God, or anyone really. i had to lose myself completely to find it tho.. yet again. hurt more this time around. please God no more, i learned my lesson hahahah 😭 

i’m jobless rn. my full time job is spending time with Jesus and i love it here 😭 i ain’t no baby christian anymore. i can proudly say that i’m FINALLY not a lukewarm christian.. sheesh took long enough thank you GOD.

I bought a perfume to wear everyday in this season to remember it!!! valentino voce vita. Here’s a short summary of what God is doing:

- exposed the enemy’s tactics and patterns in my life

- establishing my identity in Him and solidifying it 

- teaching me how to use my authority in Him and how to fully rely/trust in Him

- confirmed that he will give me my man of God and a family (HE GAVE ME A VISION OF HIS FACE AHHHH. he’s got a pointy nose and straight teeth. nice smile)

- placed an urgency in my spirit that something big is happening. and it’s all pointing to Jesus’ return which is sooooooon EEEEEE!! LETS GOOOO

- revealed and confirmed my calling.............. scary fun times LOL. he’s going to USE MEEEEE, idk how that will look exactly. but i started a mukbang channel 3 weeks ago and its growing. (been having fun with my food ig page all year and growing there too! but pausing that for now.) i’m trusting and obeying and not looking back

- gave me an opportunity to be the community service leader for heavenly fire ministry!!! attended their retreat in the beginning of the year btw and met some amazing women who are HOT (humble, open, & transparent)

i know i’m on the right track with the Lord YAY <3 been having sooo many intimate moments with the Lord and i’m excited to keep on experiencing his goodness. spiritual attacks are on a new level - the enemy’s old patterns aren’t working and he’s sending his stronger minions. but i’m covered and i KNOW where i stand. i know where God stands. and i know where the enemy stands. the truth has been revealed and i’m unstoppable on God’s team 🤩 

reminder: Galatians 6:9 (NLT) ‘So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.’

anywayyyyy i hope to keep posting updates on here. now that i figured out my login info. i really hope and pray for more christ-like friendships. audrey is literally God-sent i love her sooooo much ugh. nikka and i are still friends and we stay encouraging each other!! so something good came out of maxim lol. also grateful for keelee, i hope we can hang more! 

that was a lot. bye for nowwwww ✌️ 

[farthngdr]

Some Thoughts on “Dead to Rights” by Radio Company

First, if you are not a Cockles truther, you should probably look away. My tinhat is so tight it hurts. Surgical removal has been deemed too risky and would probably result in my demise.

The comments here are entirely mine, as are the assumptions incorporated into my lyrics analysis about real-life people and their relationships. No disrespect is intended. Please do not contact Jensen, Misha, or Danneel about anything you read below, or about anything Cockles-related, because there is absolutely no evidence for anything I am saying here, and their lives are essentially unknown to us.

Thank you.

_______________________________________________________________

She said It all will change If not it all can wait It may die away Over time But I do believe It's better than being alive It's better than being alive It's better than being-

Bombs away Only just begun You want to be the one to say you love The rain-

fall

When all the while the angels call; The only way to see just how it comes to be Every day To know it all falls away.

You had me dead to rights Holding down my chain; You had me dead to rights I got out again; Never been the same.

Song composed by Jensen Ackles and Steve Carlson

No official statement has ever been made by the two songwriters as to who wrote the lyrics, who wrote the music, or if words and/or music were composed by both. I am proceeding on the assumption that Jensen wrote the lyrics. He has mentioned writing lyric ideas on notepads (as shown in the above photo), and so indeed he gives much thought to his lyric-writing process.

In another track from Vol. 2, “City Grown Willow,” a song clearly written by himself, he uses “chain” imagery. Clearly, the concept of the chain resonates for  him, whether the chain belongs to his lover, in “City Grown Willow,” or, as in this song, the chain is attached to himself, with the other end being held by the “she” he refers to throughout this lyric.

In addition, a close examination of other tracks by Radio Company share similar lyrical hallmarks as “Dead to Rights”: the invocation of a “she” in “City Grown Willow,” who I maintain is the same “she” as the one here, namely Danneel; “bombs away,” a metaphor for his emotional relationship with the “bomb,” i.e., Misha, recalls “cannonball, rise and fall,” from Vol. 1; other similar MC metaphors are the “fire” from “Jump into the Fire,” and “he stokes the flames ‘cause he is amused by the glow,” from “City Grown Willow.” Other JA lyrical hallmarks can be identified here as well.

________________________________________________________________

“’Dead to rights’ means having overwhelming evidence of someone's guilt, having irrefutable proof that someone is responsible for something. The idiom ‘dead to rights’ came into use before the 1850s in the United States.”

“’Dead to rights’: In the act of committing an error or crime, red-handed. For example, ‘They caught the burglars dead to rights with the Oriental rugs.’ This phrase uses ‘to rights’ in the sense of ‘at once.’”

________________________________________________________________

The theme of guilt is embedded in these lyrics--the narrator, JA, is guilty of something, and he was “caught red-handed,” as it were, by someone, the “she” in the song--his wife. The “guilty” act was more, I believe, her intuiting/noticing that her husband was in love with another--early days, perhaps before much had occurred between the two men, but wives are smart, and they can sometimes intuit when their men are in love with another, even before the husbands know themselves. 

“She said”---This song focuses on the fact that the narrator’s wife notices instantly--”at once”-- the “act” for which he feels guilty. And she voices it to him--she knows he is in love with another. And she also knows who. 

Thus, the “dead to rights” reference--she knew right away when her husband fell in love, and that he either wants to, or already has begun, pursuing a romantic relationship with his love. She “caught him red-handed,” even though a “crime” has not literally occurred, and, most importantly, *she is not angry or judgmental*; rather, she is concerned. 

She has thought about it before she confronts him with it. She is philosophical: “It all will change”--that is, this could be a momentary fancy, and if you follow through, everything will change in your life. “if not”--that is, if this is something lasting and substantial--then “it all can wait.” What’s the rush? Why not cool your jets and see if you still feel the same way in a few months? And know too, if you do pursue this, “It may die away over time.” So be careful. Don’t jump into the fire. You could get burned. I don’t want that for you.”

What is his response to her words? He acknowledges to her: “You are right.” 

He concedes that everything she says is true. But he has thought about it too. A lot. And he realizes something: “But I do believe it’s better than being alive.” This cryptic line puzzled me initially. “What” is better than being alive? Then one day, after hearing the track a few times, it hit: If the relationship crashes and burns--if it does die, and his heart is destroyed in the flames and ash--then so be it. He has decided that being with this person, jumping into the abyss with him, which could result in his own  metaphorical “death,” is exactly what he will do, because “dying” from the possible fallout of a disastrous love affair is preferable to the agony of continuing to live without him.

“You want to be the one to say you love the rain.....fall” --I love the pause here, putting the emphasis on the “fall,” conjuring up the act of falling in love; and also, the possibility of falling to one’s death. And of course, the biblical “fall”--we’re all fallen from grace. He is reminding her that it is she who always says she loves the rain--metaphorically, the rainy days, the times when things aren’t necessarily all sunshine and roses. She understands and accepts life’s gifts and risks. (And we learn in “City Grown Willow” that, in fact, “Her faith in love is better on sunny days.”)

“When all the while the angels call”--I cannot emphasize enough how unequivocally this imagery refers to MC. If I have to explain how many times J has called M an “angel”.....The point being, the angel calling him is impossible for him to ignore, and he just plain doesn’t want to. When an angel calls your name................you go.

“The only way to see just how it comes to be”--a typical Jensen cryptic line, when he wants to say something but doesn’t want to be too revealing, so he does so with the utmost vagueness, to the point where his meaning is almost impossible to decipher. That cryptic line, combined with the rest of the verse, “Every day/To know it all falls away,” strikes me like this: “The only way to know if I should do it or not, is just to do it.” And in the end, he philosophizes, everything falls away in any case--”even you and I will someday be parted.” The idea of mortality--of the limited span of time we inhabit this life--is heavy on his mind. And again, he has made his decision: His love is so deep, so compelling, that he is willing to risk everything--heart and soul--to be with the angel who is calling him.

_______________________________________________________________

ADDENDUM TO MY POST:

Unless Steve Carlson has said publicly that he specifically wrote the *words* to City Grown Willow, I maintain steadfastly that Jensen composed the lyrics. It makes sense that Carlson had written the guitar piece itself, with its beautiful, cascading notes and striking chord progressions, which demonstrate his skill as an instrumentalist. It’s no accident that the recording itself features only Carlson’s playing, with no other instrumental accompaniment--probably exactly the way Jensen first heard it.

Jensen heard Steve play the piece, loved it, and proceeded to write words for it. When Carlson says he played this piece for Jensen and that he had written it years prior, I take that to mean that Jensen loved the sound of the guitar and wanted to work with it.--that the song had no words. The lyrics have the hallmarks of Jensen's writing style; the content fits his situation, with a female and 2 males as the protagonists; and HE is “the man from the mountains.” That’s not Carlson’s identity--that's a moniker Jensen deliberately chose for himself, as he makes clear in the music video. 

If anyone can provide for me a direct quote from Carlson that he wrote the words, I will retract my statement. Until then, I hold my position.

[dionnaea]

Promises

pairing: kenny ackerman x reader (platonic), slight levi x reader

warnings: angst, character death, mild swearing

wc: 4.4k

a/n: so, so sorry this took so long!! i decided to combine these two requests and change them up a little, so i hope that’s okay! i’m really proud of this piece, so i hope you all enjoy it, too. xx

side note: technically this is a sequel to my other fic Pot Meet Kettle but it’s not entirely necessary to read that first.

requests:

Your writing’s so good I’m cryin’... Also, I’d LOVE to see what you have in mind for Kenny and Reader’s background! 👀 Were they both underground? was Reader already in the Corps when they met?? did she learn how to punch creeps from Kenny?? Plus I’m very curious about what he meant by her fixing broken hearts!

could you do a part 2 to the pot meet kettle levi fic? i really loved it and i think it would be cool if you could write a part 2 based off the kenny vs levi scene in season 3? like maybe kenny sees the reader and he's like good to see you again and levi is like mf what idk im not creative :(( sorry if this isn't enough

attack on titan masterlist | general masterlist

After Rod Reiss had been taken down, the scouts were sent to search the ruined fields for survivors. It was unlikely that any were left, but Erwin was adamant that no soldier would be left behind. You respected him for that, and went on your way to do your job. 

As you wandered, you ran into a returning scout, someone you didn’t know the name of but were sure had been paired with the Captain for this mission. His head was down as he walked, like there was something he had seen that he shouldn’t have, and your mind began to fill with worries for Levi. Had something happened? 

Making your steps slightly heavier in the grass so that he would notice you, the man finally looked up, quickly saluting to his superior. You brushed him off, instead getting down to business. 

“Where’s Captain Levi, cadet?” 

The man’s eyes darted away from your own before he answered. “Taking care of something, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the soldier’s weary tone. “Oh? And what is he taking care of, might I ask?” Everything about this seemed peculiar, and you weren’t having it. 

“I don’t know. Something… personal.” When he finally met your gaze, he relented, sacrificing the Captain’s privacy for his own sake, too scared to see what your reaction would be if he kept playing coy. “He’s that way, by the big oak tree,” he stated, pointing in the direction he came. 

You squinted, making out the shadow of the tree in the setting sun. You dismissed the cadet, and quickly made your way towards Levi, his body becoming clearer as you approached. Once you were a reasonable distance away, you called out, but were met with silence. As your worry grew, you moved faster, only stopping when you realized what was going on. 

Levi was kneeling, his body covering the person in front of him. It didn’t matter, you’d recognize those spurs anywhere. 

“Kenny?” The name was uttered in disbelief, and as you stepped around Levi, your eyes grew wide with fear. “Kenny!” 

Immediately, you jumped into action, your scout training taking hold of your body as you knelt by your friend. Your hands hovered over his burnt and bloodied body, not knowing where to start but ignoring the possibility that it was too late. “How… How do I help you? I-I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes were tearing up, and your breathing was getting ragged as you struggled to find some solution. “Please, Kenny, tell me how to help!” 

“Kitten…” His voice was rough as he spoke, his usual tones of confidence and charisma gone. You met his half-closed eyes with your wet ones, begging for him to give you some answer, some, any sort of reassurance that things would be alright. 

“Please,” you pleaded. You had never sounded this pitiful in your life, but you didn’t care, and as his shaking hand grabbed your own, a sob wracked your body. “Kenny, please. Please stay.” You couldn’t help, you knew that, but you hoped for once in his life he would listen to you. 

His eyes began to shut, and his voice fell to a whisper as he said, “Stay safe, kitten.” With a barely there squeeze of your hand, his body went limp, his hand dropping from your grasp.  

You stared in silence, shock overtaking you for a moment. But then, all you felt was anger. “No. No! You promised!” You were yelling at this point, fist reaching out to bang on Kenny’s chest in retaliation. A strong grip on your wrist stopped you, but you weren’t done. As if he could read your mind, Levi wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you back from the now dead man. You were screeching obscenities at both Kenny and Levi as you struggled to break free. Soon, your screams turned into sobs, and as you fell limp into Levi’s arms, you let out one last whimper, a last cry for help. “You promised.”

Later that night, as you pulled a camisole over your head, a knock sounded on your quarters’ door. Truthfully, you had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone. You had had a long day, you had just changed into your pajamas, and you weren’t in the mood to join your fellow soldiers in celebration. Still, you pulled the door open a few inches, hoping it would be someone you could easily send away. To your surprise, Levi stood outside dressed in plain clothes and hair wet from what you presumed was a shower. Even more surprising was the newly formed bruise on his cheekbone. The reddish-purple mark stood out against his normally flawless skin, and you found yourself staring, only Levi’s sharp voice bringing you back to reality. 

“You did that, you know,” he commented with a blank face. 

“What?” You opened the door a bit more, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

His left eyebrow cocked up just barely. “When you went berserk earlier. Before I managed to snag both of your wrists,” he explained. He reached up a hand to brush against his cheek. “Damn, you hit hard.” 

You weren’t sure, but the tone in the man’s voice made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to cheer you up. Against your will, the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest bit. “Did you expect anything less?” You quipped, wondering what his answer might be. 

“No.” He shrugged. “Just surprised it took you this long to punch me in the face.” 

At that, you let out a laugh. It was true, the man had managed to push every single one of your buttons during his time with the Scouting Regiment. The two of you were in constant conflict, arguments over the smallest things popping up out of nowhere. At some point, Erwin had decided that Mike would be the babysitter of you two, keeping you both in line during training and even more so during squad leader meetings. You started to smile at the memory, but when you remembered that Mike, like so many of the others you loved, was dead, your expression fell. 

Moving your eyes to stare down at the uneven floorboards, you spoke quietly, but sincerely, “I’m sorry.” 

Levi knew you weren’t just apologizing for hitting him but for everything, and as he studied your face, he made a decision. “Do you want some tea? I keep a special brand in my room.” It was the only thing he had to offer, and both you and him knew it. 

You froze as you tried to figure out the best course of action. Follow the Captain to his room or mope around alone until you cry yourself to sleep? In the end, it was an easy choice. Still, your heart stuttered in your chest while you gained your composure. You took a breath before responding, “Um, sure.” 

There was a beat of silence, as if the two of you were readying yourself to take on some new, mysterious foe. And in a way, you supposed, you were. About a month after Levi had joined the scouts, there had been an… incident of sorts. It wasn’t disastrous or anything like that, but Erwin had quickly ruled that the two of you weren’t allowed to be in the same room together without someone else present. A wise decision on his part, if you were being completely honest, and something that Levi nor you argued with in the slightest. But now, years later, it seemed both of you were ready to break that rule, Levi making the first move as he turned on his heel and waited to see if you would follow. 

Out of all of the scouts, you were known to be the most stealthy. Mike was usually the only one who could sense you were coming, claiming you had a distinctly pleasant smell that his nose had no problem picking up on. One time, he had even claimed that you were the best smelling person in the Survey Corps, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. Hange had whispered to you later that evening that that was his way of flirting, but you never took her seriously. You weren’t interested in dating anyways. No one had ever really caught your eye minus one man, but you always said it was more of a fascination than a crush. 

Even your ODM gear seemed to be quieter than the rest, and you once managed to spook even the Commander when you landed on the same tree branch as him without him knowing. You naturally existed silently and sneakily so when Levi picked up on the sound of your sock-clad feet shuffling behind him, the pit of concern in his stomach grew. 

Reaching his quarters, he unlocked the door wordlessly, holding it open so that you could enter first. Your eyes widened as you took in the space. First of all, it was much bigger than your room. While you only had a bedroom and bathroom to yourself like the other squad leaders, Levi had a small living area with a couch, small coffee table, and even a desk. There were papers neatly stacked on top of it, and the rest of the area was just as orderly, his tea kettle sitting in the exact center of the coffee table. Only when you sat down on the couch did you see the small fireplace he had. It was just big enough to fit a tea kettle over it, and that’s what Levi proceeded to do. 

You let out a low whistle, capturing the man’s attention. “Wow. When did you get so important?” You asked, motioning lazily about the room with your hand. 

Levi scoffed and placed a hand casually on his hip. “Erwin gave it to me when he moved into the Commander’s quarters. Reward for the highest kill count or something like that.” His voice was so nonchalant that for a moment, you didn’t realize that he was insulting you. No, you thought, it was more of a tease than an insult. 

Now it was your turn to scoff, well aware that your fellow Captain was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Levi watched as you rolled your eyes playfully, firelight glinting off of your irises. Had they always been such a pretty color? 

The whistle of the kettle broke him out of his reverie, and he swiftly turned back to take it off of the heat. When he brought it back to the table, he was pleasantly surprised that you had already prepared the teacups, him only having to pour the water in and wait for it to steep. Hesitantly, he moved around the table to take a seat next to you, wondering when the two of you were ever this close. The events of the day popped into his head, and he did his best to ignore the fact that the thing he remembered the most about it was you being in his arms. Still, a question had been lingering in his mind, and he figured now was the best time to ask it. 

“Y/N,” he started, and you looked over with wide eyes at the use of your first name. You honestly weren’t aware that he even knew you had a first name. “Can I ask you a question?” You knew what was coming, but you forced yourself to nod anyways, giving him silent permission to know your secrets. “How do you know Kenny Ackerman?” 

It was a loaded question, and you let out a breath as you tried to figure out the best way to tell the story without getting either you or Kenny into trouble. Even the secrets of a dead man needed to be protected sometimes. Despite it all occurring years ago, the government’s threat towards you regarding the release of information hung heavily in your mind. Both you and Levi would be in danger if you revealed too much. He could swear himself to secrecy, and you would trust him, but the risk would never be worth the reward. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, worrying your lip as you thought of how to start to explain. 

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, gathering your nerves before continuing, “About a year and a half before you joined the scouts, I got myself into a bit of trouble.” He raised an eyebrow in surprise as you were widely thought to be the most well behaved and well intentioned scout there was. He thought he was the only person who could get you riled up, your scoldings from the other squad leaders and the Commander always leading back to him. You sent him a small grin. “I wasn’t always the goody two shoes I am now, Levi.” 

“Anyways, it became kind of a big deal in the Capital, and a lot of higher-ups were calling for my head.” You let out a light chuckle. “Imagine just turning 19 and having almost every MP looking for you. Scary stuff.”

“Wait.” Levi held up a hand to stop you before you could continue. The story had just started, but he was already having trouble believing that this was the truth. If not for the darkness that rested just behind your eyes, he would’ve called bullshit as soon as you said your first sentence. “What exactly did you do?” 

You looked away from the intensity of his gaze for a moment, an internal debate raging on inside your head. With a sigh, you relented. “I… I can’t tell you everything, but let’s just say it had to do with a certain Premier and confidential papers being stolen from his office.” Levi’s eyes grew wide, and you took that as a sign to continue. “No one knows except Commander Erwin, but I spent most of my teenage years in the Underground. I was born within Wall Sina, so I had papers to be up top, but I much preferred being below gro—”

“Why?” Levi was quick to cut you off, his expression hard and tone almost offended.

“My parents owned land in Wall Sina, and when they died, they left none of it to me, so folk got the idea in their head that I was a problem child. I wasn’t wanted there, so I left.” You shrugged, and Levi’s face softened. “I admit, the Underground wasn’t easy, but I was quick on my feet and smart for my age. I survived and I survived by myself. Help wasn’t something I wanted, but when you’re suddenly being chased by the royal government, it becomes something you need. That’s how I found Kenny, and it’s why I owe him my life.” 

It had been a week since you had completed your assignment, already turning in the materials to the man who had hired you and returning back to your comfortable life underground. All had seemed to go swimmingly, and your confidence had grown tenfold. The feeling of being unstoppable was addictive, and you craved the sensation of that feeling again. You let your thoughts drift to what you could accomplish next, but sudden screams quickly snapped you out of your daydream. Straightening in your chair, you peeked out of the window of the tavern you currently resided in. Fear grew in your chest at what you saw.

Standing right outside were five MP’s, fully equipped with ODM gear and holding up a wanted poster with a poorly drawn sketch of your face on it. It was clear that they were asking for your whereabouts, and you were thankful to see that every person was shaking their heads to say no, they had no idea. Even with the solidarity of your fellow Underground citizens, you knew you had to get out of there and away from the sharp swords that hung off of the men’s waists. Before you could move, though, two of the men entered the bar, their eyes sweeping over the patrons. 

Right before their eyes could meet your frightened ones, your world was encased in darkness, the only light you could see coming from below you. You blinked, trying to understand what exactly just happened, but soon realized that a large hat had been placed over your head. Carefully, you lifted the brim so that you could see, and were met with the piercing silver stare of a man a good amount of years older than you. Apparently your confusion showed on your face because he quickly pushed the hat back down so that it shaded your features. 

He spoke in a quiet voice, only letting you be privy to whatever information he was about to share. “I’d keep that on if I were you, kitten. Don’t want the MP’s seeing your face, now do we?” You didn’t dare speak, but quickly shook your head, showing him you were listening and following instructions. “Good,” he dragged out the vowel, and the table shook as he placed his leg onto the table. Were those cowboy boots and spurs? You were pretty sure people only wore those in stories. “Now,” he stated, “We’re just gonna have a nice, pleasant conversation. Lots of giggles, ya hear me?” You nodded, the hat moving up and down your forehead. 

As the man started spewing nonsense, you did your best to play along, laughing like he said to and keeping your face covered as best you could. You could hear the MP’s getting closer to your table over the man’s rowdy voice, and the hand gripping your drink began to shake in fear. Smoothly, the man took your hand in his, making some weird comment about how soft it was. You frowned. Your hands weren’t soft at all. What was with this guy? 

The realization of what his plan was smacked you in the face, and you let out light giggles in response, putting on your most fake voice as you thanked him for the compliment. The things you were saying to each other became sickly sweet, so much so that you almost laughed at one point. As the soldiers approached your table, the mysterious man leaned in close, his alcoholic breath fanning over your face. Calmly, he swept the hat off of your head and placed it so that it covered both of your faces from the men who were now only a couple of feet away. 

A swift kick from under the table spurred you into action, and you let out a girlish moan followed by an exaggerated giggle. He followed suit, making a comment about how nice your lips were. If it were any other situation, you would punch this man in the face, but for right now, you’d listen to every command he gave you. From behind the hat you heard one of the MP’s mumble about ‘couples these days’ with a gagging noise coming from the other. With one last lovesick comment from the man in front of you, the MP’s retreated, leaving the tavern with muttered curses leaving their lips. 

Your savior leaned back into his chair, a smirk adoring his features as he placed his hat back on his head. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, you in shock and him in some state of glee. You decided to speak first. 

“Who are you?” 

“The name’s Kenny.” He kicked his other leg up on the table with a thwack! as the spur hit the cracked wood. The silence grew again, but this time you were at a loss for words. Sure, his name was Kenny, but was that all he was going to say? Apparently not, but when he spoke up again, it was entirely unhelpful. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You frowned, unamused. “Maybe for you. I should punch you for some of the things you said. Strange men shouldn’t talk to unassuming ladies like that.” Your tone was laced with a bit of sarcasm, and he guffawed.

“I don’t think fugitives from the crown can be considered ladies,” he shot back, and you huffed. His face grew serious. “I’ve been watching you for a while, kitten.”

You raised your eyebrows at the nickname. “It’s Y/N, and, uh, what?” Once again, this man completely took you by surprise. 

He shrugged. “You may not know it yourself, kitten, but you’re well known down here in the Underground. A mysterious girl who arrives without a sound, stealing from the above-grounders and sharing the wealth with the rest of us? You’re practically a legend; some people don’t even believe you’re real, but those that do would protect you with their life.”

This was all news to you. Yes, those were things that you did, but people recognized you for it? You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked quickly as you tried to puzzle the situation out. “I…” You struggled for words.

Kenny held up a hand. “It’s true whether you believe it or not… But, it seems that you’ve bitten off a little more than you can chew this time, my friend. Stealing from the Premier? Tsk, tsk.” His tone was more playful than condescending, and you gave him a weary grin. 

You sighed and finally relaxed back into your own chair, studying the man’s face. It showed his experience rather than his age, and you wondered just exactly who he was. Taking a chance, you pried for more information. You hated being in the dark. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Who are you?” 

His smile grew at your curiosity, crooked teeth appearing under chapped lips. “Someone who can help you. If you want it, that is. It seems clear you like to work on your own.” There was a challenge laced into his words, and you wondered what the right decision was. On one hand, getting involved with someone else, someone else you knew nothing about at that, was a dangerous game. On the other, you were in trouble and you needed all the help you could get. 

Taking a chance, you slowly nodded. “Okay. What do you have in mind?” 

He explained his plan. The MP’s didn’t know your name, so it would be easy to get above ground using your old Wall Sina papers. After you expressed your concern and with a chuckle, he dismissed their drawing of you, stating that once you got above ground and cleaned up, you would be unrecognizable from your old self. Then, with his next words, you lost your confidence in his plan. 

“You want me… to join the Survey Corps?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Uh, no way. That’s right under the government’s noses!” 

He brushed you off. “Eh, not really. The government already dislikes the Corps. They’re not gonna care who’s in it; they figure you’ll all die soon enough.” At that, you gave him a very blank stare, and he just laughed, stealing a swig from your mug. “You’ll be fine. You don’t seem like the dying type.”

It was true, you had escaped the jaws of death on multiple occasions, but you weren’t in the business of actively riding towards your demise. That seemed plain idiotic to you, and you made that known. “This isn’t a joke. It’s my life on the line,” you countered.

With a swift movement, his legs were off of the table and his body was leaning in towards yours, the weight on his elbows making the table creak. His eyes turned dark, levelling your gaze. “It’s your life either way. Would you rather die by the hands of the Military Police after they’ve done God-knows-what to you? Or would you rather die on your own terms, possibly fighting for Humanity’s freedom?” 

It was a good question, a fair question, and one you immediately knew the answer to. You sucked in a breath as you resigned yourself to your new fate. “So, how do we do this?” 

With another grin, Kenny explained the rest of his plan. It really wasn’t a bad idea, and you were grateful for the help. But still uncertainty settled in your stomach.

The day you were to join the Corps, Kenny had told you he would meet you before you left. You hadn’t seen him in about a week, and in that time, you had completely changed yourself, moving up top, getting a haircut, and finally wearing clean, untorn clothes. It was weird and different, but a part of you enjoyed it. This was a new start, you had chosen to believe.

“Kitten!” You turned towards the easily recognizable voice with a roll of your eyes, but the playful smile that toyed with your lips gave away your true feelings. “Give me a spin!” He requested, and when you did, he let out a loud whistle. “Damn, you really look like you belong up here.”

You raised your eyebrows with a grin. “That’s the point, right?” 

“Precisely, my friend, precisely.” Slinging an arm over your shoulders, he began to walk with you towards where the ferry would pick you up. His pace was slow, obviously not in a rush to say goodbye, and you felt the same. Somehow, the two of you had grown close over the past month. Even with all of the secrets you both kept from each other, there was an air of freedom when you were in the other’s presence. No lies, no false personalities, just friendship. 

It was refreshing, to say the least.

For once, you both were quiet as you walked. The weight of the future hung over both of you, pressing your mouths shut. He managed to speak first, his voice cracking for the first time since you met him and giving away his true emotions. 

“Stay safe, kitten.” The words were serious, and something in him couldn’t stand to let that be the last thing he said. “You’ll kick those Titans’ asses.” 

Normally, you’d laugh, or at least smile, at his cheesy jokes. Instead, you stopped walking and turned until you both faced each other, looking up to meet his eyes. With a swallow, you asked something of him that you knew was unfair, was selfish, was wrong. Yet, you still asked, knowing Kenny wouldn’t hold it against you. 

“Promise me you won’t die before me.” 

His eyes softened in understanding, crinkles forming around their edges as he gave you the most gentle of smiles. He knew what you needed to hear, knew it would be a lie, knew you’d hate him for it. But, he said it anyway.

“I promise.”

[littleoddwriter]

Heavy Heart | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

Another Vent Fic, sorry. This time with Arrowverse!Roman Sionis (Batwoman Season 2), though. The episodes still aren’t out here, but I think I’ve seen enough Clips to at least get his voice and feel right. Sorry if not (in case anyone even ends up reading this).

summary; You’re struggling with personal issues, regarding your interpersonal relationships. Roman unexpectedly shows up at your doorstep and you have a heart-to-heart.

notes; Male!Reader; Reader has Borderline Personality Disorder; Favourite Person (FP); Rejection; Abandonment Issues; Spiralling; Mild Dissociation; Self-Harm (Scratching and Cutting); Blood; Hurt/Comfort; Unexpected Visit; Love Confessions; Soft Kisses; Hugs; Little Dialogue.

It’s only been a couple of months, since you and Roman have started dating. Honestly, you’d never expected it to happen at all. You’ve been his assistant at Janus Cosmetics for over two years at that point, while you’ve been silently crushing on him the entire time. So to say that you were ecstatic about the fact that he liked you, too, would’ve been an understatement.

Naturally, as it always happened, Roman has become your new Favourite Person all too quickly and crushingly. Of course, at this point in your still blooming relationship you couldn’t care less, because you were happy, you were on top of the world when you only thought about him and the way he kissed you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Still, in the back of your mind, this tiny voice kept reminding you that every time you’ve had an FP in your life, it didn’t end well; and it never lasted very long – a year tops, maybe. So, you were cautious, like you always were. You were hyper aware of everything you said and did around him; how often you texted him; how fast you responded to him; how many gifts you made for him and how much time passed in-between them. All so you wouldn’t fuck it up by being too much or too little. You were desperately trying to find this golden balance between it all.

The last time you had a Favourite Person wasn’t too long ago, actually. They had still been it when Roman has asked you on your first date with him. But not even a week afterwards, they had suddenly stopped responding to your texts and ignored you. They had never tried to contact you again and you were far too afraid and anxious to do it on your own accord after too much time has passed already. After all, you had already convinced yourself that they had lost interest in you and hated your guts all of a sudden.

Of course, you had tried to forget about them, which was made a little easier by the fact that your entire focus was on one Roman Sionis. Still, it didn’t prevent you from thinking about this supposed friend at least once a day, if not more, and wondering where it had gone wrong and if the same would happen with Roman very soon. It was bound to happen after all, and since this particular friendship had ended so very suddenly after not even four months, you could only fear how long your relationship with Roman would last.

Every single day, you tried your damnedest not to ponder too much and let anxiety overtake your body. Instead, you attempted to just focus on Roman and how much you loved him, which was a whole lot and far too much, to the point where it caused your chest to hurt. Often times, you wondered if it would be acceptable of you to already say those three particular words to him, or if that would ruin everything. You were incredibly uncertain, and he never seemed as though he was going to say them any time soon. Either way, you forced yourself to be patient and not fuck everything up again.

The fact that Roman had asked you out, even though he very much knew about your BPD diagnosis had shocked you to your core, but it somewhat calmed you down to know that it wasn’t a secret between you two (you had even checked in with him if he really knew upon his question). Still, you often wondered if he was truly aware of how much baggage you had on your shoulders and just how exhausting it could be to be in a relationship with a person who had this particular disorder – not only for you, but for him as well.

As the months have stretched on with barely an incident between you two, you had allowed yourself to get a tiny bit more comfortable. Whether or not you should regret it was beyond you, when your best friends have suddenly ceased to respond to your texts and more and more people around you have seemed to ignore you. At first you’ve given it all some time and tried not to jump to conclusions, because you knew they were all busy with their own lives and weren’t always in the mood to talk or text – and you respected that, you knew exactly what that was like.

But as two days have turned into four and essentially a whole week, you couldn’t help yourself anymore.

Feelings of utter loneliness and rejection overcame you in waves. You’ve been short of crying every couple of minutes; your chest hurt so much; your skin felt so tight – you desperately wanted to claw it off.

Then, you started to isolate yourself more and more. At work, you acted mostly normal, just like always – putting on this mask of being fine and a good worker – when in reality, your entire world was falling apart piece by piece.

None of it went past Roman, of course, he was way too perceptive for that. But when he asked you what was wrong, you deflected the question and said that it wasn’t important, it would be okay in a few hours or days anyway.

That wasn’t the case, though.

It didn’t get better at all. The feelings just wouldn’t go away. Every time you looked at your phone and saw all the unanswered messages you’d sent out to people weeks and months ago made your heart heavy and your chest tighten painfully. The more time passed, the worse it got.

Eventually, you also just couldn’t help wondering about Roman and doubting his interest in you. Was he truly interested in you at all? Would he have enough of you soon? Would he drop you gently or harshly? Would you even still have a job when he did? Fuck, it certainly wasn’t the best idea to date your boss, was it?

As you sat at your desk at home, preparing Roman’s schedule for the next week, your phone suddenly pinged. Immediately you took it into your hands to see if it was Roman – he was the only one who you were talking to at all anymore, after all. But then you saw that it was your previous Favourite Person, the one right before Roman. They had reacted to something you had posted on social media. They had commented on it as though they hadn’t suddenly stopped talking to you months ago.

As soon as you saw it, your eyes burned with tears that suddenly pricked them, your heart clenched so painfully and your skin was crawling. You were hurt and confused. It was all too much.

Just half an hour before that you had exchanged a few texts with an acquaintance you had on social media, which was as unfulfilling as it always had been. They clearly didn’t care about you, since they would never once truly ask how you were feeling, but in fact only talked about themselves and their life’s struggles. You were nothing but a tool for them to vent their worries to without an ounce of care in what you had to say in the least. It was a role you’d been very much used to, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

So, naturally all of this was a lot for you to process – too much, really – and you felt so many negative emotions all at once. They were crushing you. You were in agony.

As the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the emotional pain and exchange it with a temporary physical one overcome you, you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths and distract yourself first, before you did something you would later regret.

Unfortunately, it only lasted for a few minutes at a time, as the urge became bigger and your anguish stronger.

Only a few hours later, you decided to shower and as soon as you got dressed, you couldn’t even think twice before your fingernails met your neck’s skin and scratched it open. You stared at yourself in the mirror as your hands just kept on moving, all across your neck and collarbones, scratching away intensely until it was bright red, irritated and bleeding.

For a moment, you inspected the fresh wounds.

It still wasn’t enough.

You quickly disinfected the irritated, scratched-open areas and then proceeded to take out the small blade you kept in the drawer below your bathroom sink. Then, you pressed it against your inner forearm and drew a small, deep line with it, causing blood to well up instantly as sharp pain shot through you. You set the blade down and squeezed around your wound, forcing out more blood. You desperately needed to see it flow out of you.

A few seconds passed and you took the blade back into your hand and rested it a few inches below your fresh cut.

You hesitated.

Shaking your head, you put it back into the drawer and instead nursed your still bleeding wound.

After all, you’ve already done more than enough damage.

The loud and sudden ringing of your doorbell startled you and you quickly, but quietly, walked towards your apartment door to look through the peephole. Roman stood in front of your door.

Were you supposed to meet him and you forgot amidst all the pain you’ve been in?

Nervously, you opened the door and smiled at him. It hurt to smile. You could only guess how strained it must have looked, not to forget the angry red and mildly bleeding wounds on your neck that you had no way of hiding, then.

“Roman, wh- what are you doing here? Sorry, uh, come in first, maybe,” you stammered out your awkward greeting, stepping to the side to let Roman into your apartment, while your heart violently hammered against your rib cage.

“I’m sorry for suddenly coming by, but I’ve actually been in the area and thought I could pay you a little visit. I missed you,” he replied as he walked past you and hung his coat on the hook on the wall, “Besides, I tried to let you know by sending you a text, but I suppose you were busy showering by the looks of it.”

“Oh- yeah. Yes, sorry. It’s okay, though. I missed you, too. I’m glad to see you,” you responded softly, nervously looking around the room and avoiding his eyes.

Suddenly his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, your bodies flush against one another. His left arm travelled up and around when he cupped your cheek with his hand and gently stroked his thumb over it, before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. You were entirely too overwhelmed and still a little beside yourself, but you reciprocated the chaste kiss automatically and put your arms around his shoulders.

When he broke the kiss, he looked you over. You could feel the shame crawling beneath your skin, making you feel far too hot.

“I didn’t catch you at a good time, did I?” he inquired quietly, grazing his fingers over the wounds on your neck so very lightly so as not to hurt you more.

Because of how tight your throat felt, you could only shake your head and avert your gaze.

Roman heaved a deep sigh and kissed your forehead softly, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured against your brow, “May I ask what’s caused this?”

Hesitating, you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, so short of crying again, as you thought about whether or not it would scare him off if you told him the truth. In the end, you nodded, though.

“Let’s sit down first, please. Can I get you something to drink?” you said brokenly, daring to look at him for a second.

“Water, please.”

Quickly, you walked into the kitchen and got Roman a glass of water, while he sat down on your couch in the living room. Your hand was shaking when you passed him the glass and he looked at you with such a soft expression that it took your breath away.

Why wasn’t he up and running already?

When you sat down next to him, he set the glass down on the table in front of you two and put his arm around you, once more pulling you close against him. Your sides pressed together and you allowed yourself to rest your head against his shoulder.

“You can tell me as much or as little as you want, okay, my sweet boy?” he told you softly and kissed your temple shortly.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and exhaled a shuddery breath. Then, you started to tell him everything that’s been going on lately and how much it all hurt. Sometime into your explanation the tears that have burned your eyes started to flow and run down your reddened face, leaving painful streaks behind. All the while, Roman was quietly shushing you and rubbing your upper arm soothingly, and peppering gentle kisses on the top of your head.

When you were done talking, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your entire body into Roman’s side in an attempt to both vanish and be close to him one last time, before he would leave you (at least that was what you’ve expected to happen anyway).

Instead, Roman wrapped his other arm around you as well and embraced you tightly, lovingly.

“I’m not going to leave you, baby. I’m not going anywhere. It angers me to know how much pain people have caused you in your life, especially as of late, but I won’t be one of them, alright?” he assured you and kissed your temple once more. “I love you, Y/N.”

Stopping to breathe altogether, you could barely believe what you’ve just heard.

Despite your disbelief, you choked out a quiet “I love you, too, Roman. So much”.

The issues that caused you so much pain in the first place may not have been solved with it, but you felt a little more secure in your relationship with Roman now, at least. That way, you could now quiet down these nagging thoughts in the back of your mind that kept telling you that he was going to drop you any second.

Sighing deeply, you relaxed a little and wrapped your arms around Roman’s middle as you pressed your face into his chest.

For the time being, you could pretend that everything was going to be alright.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Ten People From Horror Movies That I Want to Kill With My Bare Hands (plus reasons cause I know y'all are gonna ask)

Trigger Warnings: mentions of attempted rape, incest, and abuse

1. Chucky (Child's Play series)

He doesn't deserve Tiffany. This fine ass woman waited for him for ten years and he has the gall to laugh in her face when she thought that the ring he left was because he wanted to propose and then proceeded to trap her the same way he was trapped. Not to mention the first thing he says to her after being gone for ten years is literally "I thought you were gonna let yourself go" oh my GOD Tiffany please love yourself. He's a little bitch and Tiffany needs to raise her standards. Also, he tries to kill a child for like three movies straight? While I love the Chucky movies, I get no greater satisfaction then from watching him die at the end of all of them. (The exception being Cult of Chucky)

2. Frank Cotton (Hellraiser)

Steals his brother's wife and then tries to force himself onto his niece. Knowingly opened the puzzle box because he's a literal dumbass and then gets upset when he gets sent to hell. Kills his brother and wears his skin. Come here you skinless freak I'm gonna send you back to the Cenobites myself.

3. Alex Le Domas (Ready or Not)

The fact that homeboy was even willing to chance having Grace pull the card proves that he's a bitch. Why don't you try being honest with the woman you supposedly love and tell her about your family's weird curse? I'm pretty fucking sure that'll get her to stop asking to tie the knot if she knows there's a chance she's gonna pull a card and all of her in-laws are gonna proceed to try to kill her. And the fact that this man had the audacity to chance sides and try to kill his WIFE??? Sorry, but I hope you enjoy being in hell get fucked Alex

4. Max (The Lost Boys)

This man saw that his son was dead and just went "haha guess he misbehaved" and I'm not exaggerating that was literally the dialogue. He also tells a woman, Lucy, how to parent her kids and tries to manipulate her into becoming a vampire instead of just, maybe, I don't know? Getting to know her, building a solid foundation for a relationship, and being honest about it? Instead of basically holding her children hostage by turning them into vampires and using her love for them against her. Basically I would kill this man with my bare hands for both his sons and Lucy and that's on that.

5. Guy Woodhouse (RoseMarys Baby)

This man can catch these hands any day of the week. He lets SATAN r*** his goddamn WIFE, and then proceeds to gaslight her for nine fucking MONTHS about how her pregnancy is totally normal and how she's not carrying the actual anti-christ even when it seems she's inches from actual and literal death. Just so he can be an actor. I'm going to beat his ass all the way to hell, Satan come get your man

6. Christian Hughes (Midsommar)

This cheating, lying piece of shit. The movie starts with how he plans on breaking up with his girlfriend but refuses to because he's too chicken shit and then he proceeds to make plans to leave for a month (?) without telling said girlfriend and is never honest with her. THEN, he fucking steals his friends thesis before finally cheating on his girlfriend. I hate, hate, HATE this man, and I'm not saying he deserved to get put into a bear skin and then set on fire, but he definitely deserved something

7. Chris Hargensen (Carrie)

It's no wonder Carrie had a nervous fucking breakdown when this is her school bully. Chris traumatizes Carrie when she gets her first period, and refuses to accept that she was in the wrong??? And instead blames Carrie for her and her friends detention/suspension from prom when they were the ones that literally threw tampons and pads at a girl who thought she was dying all while chanting "plug it up"? And, to top it off, she gets a girl who's been ostracized her entire life elected prom queen just to pour pigs blood on her in front of the entire senior class. Chris Hargensen can rot in hell and I can only think about fighting her every time I watch it.

8. Jack Torrance (The Shining)

The scene where he specifically yells at Wendy when she comes into his study and you can see the way her face falls really solidified my hatred for this man. Jack is the only other adult around for Wendy to talk to and he shames her for wanting human connection and a conversation from her fucking husband. Not only that, but he once broke the arm of his child and this was pre-hotel. So, basically, the hotel turning him insane or not, Jack was always a piece of shit and I'm glad Danny was able to later confront his feelings about his father in Doctor Sleep.

9. Charley Brewster (Fright Night)

Within the first five minutes of the film, we literally see him ignoring his girlfriend's lack of consent and pressuring her into having sex with him. Then, he stalks and obsesses over his neighbor and just so happens to find out that his neighbor is a vampire. Since he has absolutely no survival instincts, he makes this unfortunately clear that he knows and even denies the chance to pretend that he didn't see anything when Jerry confronts him. All I'm saying is that Charley really shouldn't have been surprised that Jerry was going to try to kill him and that all of the decisions that Charley made were bad ones. Especially the ones that lead to Ed (his bestfriend) dying and Amy (his girlfriend) almost being turned into a vampire. 10/10 would stake

10. Michael "Mike" Williams (the Blair Witch Project)

As someone who used to camp regularly and has experience in survivalist training, Mike is a prime example of what NOT to do during a survival situation. He is the FIRST to panic, the first to point fingers, and he fucking throws away the map. He. Fucking. Throws. Away. The. Map. All of his decisions are made on impulse and he never even tries to be logical in this entire situation. His character makes my blood boil because even if there wasn't a witch keeping them trapped there someone like that will end up making chances of survival slim anyways. Go stand in the corner and think about what you've done.

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 18/18

not my gif

He Who Must Not Be Named

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a     Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17]

A/N: bold lines are from the book Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix

Severus Snape emerged from the shadows to stand in front of his ally.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come, Severus.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore was, as expected, steady and confident. “Do you have it?”

Snape approached him, eying the room with suspicion. It was the first time he had stepped inside Dumbledore’s hiding place, but despite he trusted the man, a chill ran down his spine. Keeping a stoic expression, he reached inside his robes and handed him a rolled piece of parchment.

“She had it with her. As you said.”

Dumbledore unrolled the document and nodded slowly. Another name wrote itself with the others.

“It is vital that Cornelius sees Voldemort first. After that, I will personally make sure that this information reaches the aurors.” The bearded man walked to the end of the room; the dim light of a candle outlined Fawkes’ silhouette.

“My name appears on that list.” Snape watched Dumbledore’s hand halt in the air. He turned around and with challenging eyes, he stared at him as he unrolled the parchment again. Turning his gaze back to the paper, Dumbledore pursed his lips together as if he was going to whistle and with a light blow, the name ‘Severus Snape’ left the paper in the form of black ashes.

He looked up at the potions teacher from up his glasses. Snape nodded.

“What happened to Yankelevich?”

“She will be brought to Nurmergard” The phoenix moved so his master could slide the parchment under him. “Attempted murder, at least.”

“I don’t understand why you sent Williams. Yankelevich wasn’t an immediate threat and Alastor could have done it faster and more efficiently.”

Dumbledore turned and put his hands behind his back. “You underestimate her. She’s learnt fast, and listened to your instructions, didn’t she? You were busy training Harry to notice, of course, but her occlumency skills have improved enormously, and she’s been practising how to communicate with Mr Weasley.”

“You said she would, yes…”

“Well, she refused using her patronus to communicate, and she needed to be away from him to practise.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he reconsider it. At Snape’s piercing stare, he kept going, “Astrid knew someone was up to no good and needed a favour, however,” he pointed at Fawkes’ nest “that was my goal.”

He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, grabbing a goblet from the table. Before sipping, he caught how Snape’s jaw tensed. “Besides, Alastor’s never run freely around a castle, breaking rules and finding places he is not supposed to enter. She has.”

“How did she know how to find it?”

“I said her skills had improved, not that they were better than mine. I might have… given her a small guidance.” He raised his hand up to his temple’s level and brushed his index and thumb together. “ I was certain that Karkarov knew about the existence of the room. It was the most logical place to hide it.”

“Where is he now?” demanded Snape.

Dumbledore looked at his partner with amused eyes, but corrected his demeanour quickly. “I have no idea. I mistakenly believed he would be in the forest. I sent a letter to Katherine in hopes she would meet him there. Turns out, he is smarter than I thought.”

“It won’t be long until He finds out Karkarov’s writing that.” Snape pointed at Fawkes’s nest, and the bird chirped unhappily.

“I know.” He tsked and took a sip from his beverage, “But it was his choice.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“We’ll wait. That spell is not easy to perform. We’ll let him write as much as he can.” They fell silent for a long while, lost in their thoughts, until Dumbledore spoke again.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. He wants the prophecy.”

“Of course. Of course…” he stood up and crossed his hands in front of him and searched in his companion’s black eyes. Snape reached inside his sleeve and took out a small vial with a silver liquid in it. He handed it to Dumbledore, who read the tag ‘K. Williams. Durmstrang’.

“She will not remember the names.”

With one last nod, Albus Dumbledore observed how his confidant dissolved in the air.

--

Katherine Williams awoke for the second time in the same Grimmauld Place’s cold room. She let the sun rays hit her eyelids and savoured the memory of Charlie’s firm body against her own.

When she reached behind her, only cold sheets wished her a good morning.

Promise me something. Promise me you’ll wake me up to say goodbye.

She stared at the pillow next to her and sighed. To be fair, he didn’t make such a promise. He didn’t say anything at all.

Putting her disappointment aside, she prepared herself for one of the most exhausting whirlwinds one could face: the loving care of Molly Weasley.

Sitting up with her back against the headboard, she stretched her neck to the side and had to do a double take at the nightstand.

A pink flower with orange undertones sat beside a piece of paper that was folded in half. Her stomach flipped, and she considered forgiving him for leaving.

A snapdragon for the strongest of flowers.

I hope this wasn’t a one-time thing. Owl me.

“Oh, shut up!” Kate whispered, but a chuckle escaped her mouth, anyway.

Movement on the other side of the door startled her, and she hid the note under the pillow before quickly hiding herself behind the covers.

The doorknob turned, and Mrs Weasley entered the room.

“Oh, thank Godric you are alright!” Molly was by her side in four long strides and cradled Kate’s head in her hands. “How are you feeling? Charles told me you woke up last night. You look pale. Did you rest?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine. My head is spinning a little, though.”

“Of course, of course, let me see that arm.”

Internally complaining, Kate let her put the cream on her arm and tend the bruises of her neck.  She didn’t have the courage to tell her that wouldn’t make the scar disappear. When she finished, Molly nodded with a satisfied smile and proceeded to pick up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. Kate held her breath during the entire the process.

“This boy... tsk... taught him better than this! At least he could have brought his clothes with him…” Kate wasn’t sure if she was oblivious or if she was giving them a green card because they weren’t at The Burrow. In any case, she felt the need to take Charlie off the hook.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault, Charlie let me use his clothes after I showered and when I went to sleep... they were bothering me.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. She gestured her neck to point at her bruises and then remembered that maybe there were ones more recent, that she did not want to explain. Charlie had never left a mark on her, but that night he felt a tad possessive and she wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

Although Molly hadn’t commented on them while she was applying the cream, the younger witch rested her hand there, trying to appear casual. Just in case.

“Ah, don’t worry, dear.” Molly waved her free hand nonchalantly and went to pick her cloak from the floor. While putting on the robe that Charlie had left at the end of the bed, Kate remembered that she technically stole the uniform band.

“Oh, this is warm! What a nice coat!” She waved the magically warmed piece of clothing, admiring it, and something the size of a matchbox flew across the room in doing so. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I always check the pockets and now look at this!” She murmured something under her breath and went to pick up the mysterious object, but Kate interrupted her.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

“Very well, then. I made you some breakfast, but it’s already cold, Charlie made me swear I would let you sleep in!” She laughed and when she was crossing the threshold, she added, “Arthur got your trunk, it’s downs… ah!”

Mr Weasley appeared from behind her with a smile on his face and his hands on her waist.

“Oh, not you too, Arthur, I have enough with your sons apparating everywhere…”

His husband ignored her with a laugh and entered the room, her trunk following him in the air.

“Special delivery!” He roared.

“Thank you so much, Mr Weasley.” He approached Kate, and after hugging her shoulders with an arm, he kissed the top of her head. “You scared us the other day, eh?” He squeezed her. “But, let’s thank Godric you are safe and sound! I must go to work now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m fine, really. We healers recover quickly. Tonks filled me in, and I’m feeling alright.”

“Alright, then. I’ll let you change.” Molly placed a hand on her own cheek for a moment and left the room without another word.

The moment Mrs Weasley closed the door behind her, Kate spooned around and crawled down the wooden desk to retrieve the small object.

Placing it on her palm, she murmured ‘engorgio’, making the tiny leather journal grow to its original size.

Letters, maps, notes, names, drawings, and a full research on how to magically cross plant species were contained in that notebook. The past six months were portrayed in those pieces of paper, and their value was incalculable.

Looking up, she faced one of the obscure paintings that belonged to the Black family. Kate stared at a woman standing on a bridge in what appeared to be a forest, and a question formed in her mind. She needed to go to St. Mungo’s.

 Convincing Molly that she could go alone to the hospital was harder than the mission she just came from. After a diluted Invigoration Draught and some help from Lupin, she managed to step out of Grimmauld Place.

She didn’t feel ready to apparate, and she doubted she would ever be, so she enjoyed her walk through the streets of the city. With the muggle money that Lupin gave her, she jumped on the first underground station she saw and followed his directions.

She got comfortable on an empty seat and observed the people on the train car. When she saw a couple getting handsy in a corner, a wave of sadness washed over her, and had to look away.

She missed Charlie terribly. The night before was too desperate and rushed, she didn’t have time to savour the moment. She didn’t even ask him about his mission with the giants, about his dragons, or about how he felt all that time alone at home. Being on a mission kept her head occupied for most of the time, but now, with nothing to do, she anticipated some time of loneliness.

She brought her hand to her chest, and her heart ached even more when she couldn’t find the necklace that Charlie had gifted her many years before. No. Stop it. You’ll get answers and study your notes and then... and then you will have to explain to Dumbledore you lost an important document that could have saved lives. Brilliant.

Soft clapping noises brought her back to reality. A woman in front of her was struggling to hold an excited baby on her lap. Kate observed the child and smiled when his little finger touched her mother’s nose. The baby turned his head and stared at Kate for a while before raising his arm to wave at her. She chuckled and returned the greeting, her trip improving slightly and temporarily.

 Walking through St Mungo’s doors had a mixed effect of nostalgia and excitement. She had spent many hours in that hospital studying, training, and learning, and all of a sudden, she was fresh out of Hogwarts again, with all the emotions that implied. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the corridor and started searching for her first mentor and boss, Madame Louise.

She scanned the faces of the healers that were working, rapidly treating the patients like frantic ants recollecting their food.

“Williams?” Kate turned at the deep voice calling her and recognised the robust middle-aged woman in front of her. “What brings you here? I thought you were working in Romania?”

“Hello, Madame Louise, yes, well I was… working there. But I’m here as a patient today.”

Madame Louise frowned and looked at Kate up and down before giving a curt nod.

“Wait on that bed.” She said before turning and walking away.

Kate sat as directed and stared at the beautiful glass stained windows of the place.

“I request you let me go right now! This is nonsense.” She could recognise that firm voice anywhere. To her right Professor McGonagall was lying on one of the beds and arguing with a boy that Kate figured he was wishing he hadn’t been born.

She walked towards them and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

“Who are you? You are not a healer; Madame Louise will hear about this.”

“Mister, this young woman knows more than you, do us all a favour and go with your mother.” Intervened McGonagall.

“I heard Jared O’Leary was looking for you.” The boy shifted in his place and nodded nervously before leaving them alone.

“Professor, what happened?” Kate’s healer mode activated and started scanning McGonagall for injuries and signals of distress.

“Oh, Williams, a lot is been happening this past year. I can imagine you’ve been informed?”

“Vaguely. I arrived two days ago from…”

“I know.”

Kate grabbed the file at the foot of the bed and read the report on McGonagall’s state.

“Four stunning spells to the chest?” She looked up and asked with her eyes, but her professor wasn’t in a mood for a talk.

“Williams, I must get out of here and go back to Hogwarts. I’m afraid it’s going to be too late by the time they let me go.”

“Professor, you could faint just by… too late for what?”

“Williams!” Madame Louise motioned her to come closer. Kate hesitated, but followed the mediwizard to a quieter space. “What happens to be the problem?”

“I’ve been poisoned two days ago.”

“In that case you should have come earlier, don’t you think?”

“There’s been… complications. I wanted to ask you if it’s possible to poison someone without using a vial or a potion or, I don’t know, food or drinks.”

The woman hummed and crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s rather strange.”

“Is this…” Kate moved the collar of the shirt to the side, revealing the red marks that hadn’t disappeared yet. “… a possible way?”

Louise grabbed the glasses that were hanging by a chain around her neck and placed them on the tip of her nose to inspect the injuries.

“The poison could have been injected with some kind of needle, but the shape of these marks means claws or… nails.”

She took her glasses off and waved them while talking. “I imagine it is possible, but you must have a very twisted mind to carry around poison in your nails. Also, you need to be very careful, a bad placement of the poison can cause yourself to get ill. In what kind of troubles are you getting into, Williams?”

“It’s a story for another day.”

 “Madame Louise, I can’t find Jared O’Leary…” The boy that was treating McGonagall appeared from behind Kate.

“What are you talking about? Go back to work! Naturally, you can’t find him. He doesn’t work here anymore!”

“But she…”

“Is every patient cured, Mr Boyle?” Kate slid away from the conversation to where Professor McGonagall was resting.

“I suddenly feel tired…”

Kate nodded and checked that the potions on her nightstand were filled and in order. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she turned to look at McGonagall.

“Katherine. You must find Potter. Something terrible is about to happen.”

Kate frowned and got closer to her former professor’s face.

“The Ministry. Try the Ministry,” she whispered.

Kate didn’t think twice. She ran all she could to the underground station, receiving some odd glances from the surrounding people.

When she arrived at the Ministry stop, she could sense the commotion even from the muggles that were passing by.

“A gas leak.” She heard while climbing up the mechanic stairs. Some people complained at her rudeness, but she couldn’t stop and apologise at the moment.

“There’s the press. Those vultures. It was probably a problem with plumbing. Look! The water reached the first floor!” A man said.

Kate tried to walk among the curious souls that were conglomerated around the building and recognised the protection bubble that was forming around it. She slid under it with ease.

“But I heard an explosion! I’m telling you!” a woman said to a journalist.

She tried to enter the building, but what seemed to be an auror stopped her.

“Let me in! I’m a healer!”

The man remained stoic and grabbed her arm.

“Identification?”

“I… I don’t have it right now but…”

“You can’t go in, Miss” She tried to get rid of him and she almost succeeded, but when the doors to the Ministry opened, she stopped the struggle. Four aurors walked out the building protecting several figures that walked behind them. She tried to reach them, but the security guard grabbed her again.

“You are the cursed girl! Daily Prophet here! Are you involved in the accident? How do you think your father will react to this? How do you think this is connected to your brother?”

“I’m not…” dumbfounded by the flash of a camera, she tried to escape from the journalists.

“Miss Williams! Miss Williams! What can you tell us about the person who died?”

She couldn’t hear anything, see anything, someone pushed her, and she felt another flash of a camera. Her head was spinning.

Cornelius Fudge stepped out of the building and pointed his wand at his neck. He cleared his throat and all the attention was directed at him.

“It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord… well, you know who I mean… is alive and among us again.”

--

[Epilogue]

--

Tag List:

@eldritchscreech​

@meteora-fc​

@cazreadsstuff

@the-navistar-carol​

@am-i-space​

[svnarintaro]

it’s too late to say sorry

update: part two is up and you can read it here 

authors note: IM IN A IMAGINE WRITING SPREE SOMEONE STOP ME PLEASE also i like using different names for the same characters im sorry :/

synopsis: hitoshi shinsou is known to be a top tier player, you only saw his as a jerk that toyed with other people's feelings, he was on his way for changing for the better; but he blew it.

word count: 1.9k words

warnings: !quirkless au! angst!!

!f*ckboy! hitoshi shinsou x reader 

him and his entire demeanour pissed you off, you were not someone that was hateful but man did this man get on your nerves. girls and guys were falling like flies case of his 'irresistible' aura, the thought made you scoff. he was just another one of those players that care for thing other than themselves and you were sick of this whole pedestal that people put them on, and him oh how you wanted to knock them down  and make them taste the reality of their destruction.

you and your best friends kendo and monoma were discussing what material you missed when you were sick on the way to the cafeteria, kendo perked up as if she remembered important information "oh also about the seating plan in chem.." you groaned and tilted your head back in annoyance, "don't tell me i'm sitting to this trust fund kid," you sarcastically pointed your thumb at the boy to your right, "shut it my dear peasant, you are a charity case to me so be grateful-" and as he was finishing up his sentence he got smack to the back of his head. "kendo that hur-" "be grateful that we haven't left you sorry butt yet." she let out a huff and continued what she was about to say as the three of you got to the cafeteria she took a shaky breath, "you kinda next to shinsou.."

you choked on air, "no no no no, i don't want o be next to a barney headed jerk-" before your rant even started you were cut off by the person behind you. "so you wanna continue talking about me behind my back or do you wanna say it to my face sweetheart, take your pick," you knew that voice, all too well. "first of all save your disgusting nicknames for a person that actually likes you." you turned your heel to give him the dirtiest glare you could fathom to show hitoshi shinsou.

"aww don't be like that baby.. i already know you'll turn around~" his smirk did not fall for a second, it only grew by the minute. "look i'm not looking to have anything on my criminal record, so if you want to keep your limbs in one piece i suggest you take my advice and piss off with my parting gift." you brought your fist to your mouth and shoved your middle finger in our mouth, and you proceeded to pull it out and flip him off and caught up with kendo and monoma who were laughing. 'they really are something else hm?' shinsou thought.

"man does he really put you in a bad mood hm?" neito teased and handed you the sandwich you wanted, "yeah she really did flip him off this time and threaten him?! i think that is the nicest exchange they've had all year!" kendo wheezed out, as you payed for your food you looked back to see shinsou sitting with his friends.

"so let's get this straight, you single handed moly pissed someone off so often they called you barney head, say they might break your limbs AND flip you off?!" kaminari screeched, while todoroki was purely confused, "did shinsou lose his ability to flirt his way out of this situation or something? cause honestly i feel like you lost you mojo a little bit." sero snorted at todoroki, "did you really have to say 'mojo'?" shinsou was just trying to figure out how to woo you now, his ultimate revenge as to get you to like him and break your heart and pummel it to smithereens.

now you had your chemistry class, and you were lab partners with shinsou, the given thought of being within a 2 metre radius of him mad you dread the class. the moment you walked in the class you saw a girl on his lap, her uniform was two sizes too tight, playing with his hair and her skirt rode up to show her red undergarments. "daddy~ can't we just skip?" you gagged at that nickname, the two of them stopped what they were doing and looked at you. the girl looked you up and down and she was obviously annoyed at your presence. "oh don't mind me i'm just a poor witness to see your panties on full display," you shrugged and made your way to your seat, "at least i have someone interested me," the girl smugly said, you rolled your eyes, "at least my coochie isn't free real estate."

the girl let out a 'hmph' and stormed out out the class, "free real estate? that's a new one." you didn't bother looking at him, and you opened your notebook and brought your data booklet out not even sparing him a glance. meanwhile the guy in front of you asked for a pen and you immediately complied and gave him one. hitoshi has never felt more offended from getting ignored and blown off again.

later in the class the teacher gave a worksheet to work on and you got stuck on a certain question and you didn't know what to do, "you forgot to balance the reaction so that's why you got the wrong answer." you looked to see shinsou looking at you, elbow on his table, "for someone who doesn't bother with class you remember a few things." you proceeded to add numbers to the elements that were written. for the rest of the class he continued to help you with your worksheet and the two of you got along for once. 'huh he may not be as bad as i thought he was.'

for the rest of the month he acted like this and it showed you that he wasn't the monster you thought he was, he was kind, considerate, funny and sweet. he avoided other girls too, "to think that you changed shinsou is actually kind of crazy, you're way more tolerable this way," you whispered as the two of you sat together and worked on some chemistry notes together, on his end of the story he was freaking out, he never felt this way, h heart was pounding out of his chest. he wanted it to stop, he was afraid. afraid of you not liking him back, he was afraid of commitment, he was afraid that he wasn't good enough for you.

"listen kaminari it is a reasonable plan, get them to like me, have them fall in love with me and boom i break up with her." for the past hour kaminari has been listening to shinsou on the phone go on and on about how he wanted to mess around with you, "they're an interesting person, they've got guts." the blond giggled, "i mean if you wanna quit the plan and hand them over to me-" "don't think about it rat."

meanwhile he was thinking about how he was so calm around you, he felt the need to drop his act and be himself around you. "looks like someone is getting attached~"

really? did he get attached? no what would be too cliché for his own good. so he sought his time to be taken by girls, other girls where were desperate to be in his attention span, "hey kaminari give me the number of every one of your flings i need to let off some steam.." shinsou needed to get you off his mind.

on the other hand you were talking to kendo, "okay look i know that i said he was trash and whatever but  he changed and.. i think i might like him." you were gushing over all the sweet things he did, all the sweet things he said, you saw all the signs that he returned your feelings. "i say go for it! shoot your shot when you can, just be careful and know that me and neito are here for you and will beat him up if he dares hurt you." kendo was really on edge with him, it was as if shinsou got possessed and she knew something wasn't right, but if he made you happy she couldn't stop you. "thank you kendo~"

it was as if a switch was flipped, the Hitoshi shinsou that you hated was back and had more playthings than ever, make out sessions in the halls, skipping classes to fool around with anyone and what hurt the most was that he was avoiding you like the plague. “he is going through a phase right now, i promise he is better than this you saw how he was weeks ago please guys you have to believe me.” you were crying in monomas room about your ruined week. you knew what was the truth and that was that you were played, you were a fool to think that he was changing for the better. “i knew he was a jerk, y/n you deserve better than this, you deserve someone that will really appreciate you, someone that won’t have to change and will be who they really are in front of you..” you looked up from lap and stared at monoma and kendo. ‘these are my people, they will never betray me.’ “i love you guys,” you declared as you threw your arms around their necks and cried your heart out. ‘hitoshi shinsou you will pay for doing me dirty like this.’

kendo forced you to stay home and rest, you were stressed and not in the head space to be at school right now. it was now lunch and kendo was livid, and was stomping down the corridor to give a piece of your mind to the jerk that broke your heart. “shinsou, i got a bone to pick with you.” she yelled at the purple haired boy, ‘finally i can see how y/n is doing’ he completely misread her words and saw them as an invitation to act buddy buddy with her so he jogged over. however he was not expecting a fist to the face, “you undeniable monster! do you know what you did to her?! you gave her false hope and you have the audacity to think that you can get anything about how she is right now?” her words truly leaked poison and showed she was not playing around, he had hurt you, and he needed to repent. “you think your pathetic superiority complex is something to sneeze at and turn a blind eye to? you think that just because you can play with peoples emotions you’re better than everyone else? well here’s what i think.” groups of people were surrounding everyone and were listening to kendo’s rant, shinsou’s heart dropped, he knew what this meant, he had hurt you. with each sentence the gap between the two got smaller until she got into his face and continued.

“it is disgusting how you can switch your act to lower other people’s guard and once they do so they are underneath your discrepancy and you crush them with no mercy,” flashes of you trying to talk to the guy you liked were flashing into keno’s head, she watched as he broke you down until you were pieces and now she was there for you as you were hopelessly trying to pick them up. a breath broke her flow of thoughts and brought her a second of peace. “stay away from my best friend.” and thats when the world stopped for shinsou, he did all of this to protect himself, he was scared cause there was a chance you could’ve liked him back but he ignored that and hurt you instead. “i’m sorry..” was all that he could say at this point. he couldn’t express anything right now, he was malfunctioning. “it’s too late to say sorry.”

[tortleofwar]

Valentine's Cherub Pt. 2

The noises from trucks clearing the road, I can sleep through that. Sunlight blaring through my eyelids, I can easily turn over. But the smoke of a cigarette catching in the back of my throat is something I can't ignore. I bolt upright pounding my chest as I cough up the carcinogens. Smoke stings my eyes as a fresh puff is directed towards me.

"Good morning my little warrior." She took another drag and blew away from my face this time. "I assume you aren't a smoker then?"

"You got me." Finally settled from my coughing fit I roll off the bed and walk to the bathroom. My bladder was close to bursting and a conversation was the last thing I wanted to have right now.

"I guess I can't call you little after your display last night." She let out a school girl giggle as she walked into the bathroom. The cigarette was absent from her hand. She reached a hand out and held me as I ejected my urine into the posh toilet. "Got some power behind this thing. Wish I could have exclusive access to this."

"Not gonna happen." I forced it out to get her hand off of me quickly. "Last night I was snowed in and my cards were all declined. I'm thankful for your help but what happened last night was a fluke."

I skipped the shower hoping to get away from her before something else was instigated. She turned it on and walked out behind me. Her hands wrapped around my waist to grab at my dick again. This time I stopped her and proceeded to my clothes.

"If you are going home you're gonna need a shower." She gave my ass a swift slap and licked her lips hungrily. "Besides, your bar tab hasn't been paid off yet. Last night was the release I needed after my recent dry spell. But that was only the tip. I bought your drinks and provided you a room."

My heart dropped at the realization that she was right. This hotel was top notch. Red carpet throughout the room, a bidet in the bathroom, and the thread count was higher than my monthly salary. I could end up indebted for a while. Sky wouldn't like it so I had to find a way out of this. I swiped to my bank app and checked the balance. My check cleared and $1850 was showing. It wasn't much but it would cover the rinks I had.

I turned to find her on her knees mouth open and eyes closed. The hormones and attraction couldn't be denied but this was wrong. At least last night could be blamed on the drinks and need for a place to stay besides out back by a dumpster. But now was entirely different. I could walk out right now and leave her on her knees as I shut the door.

"I don't normally offer this to anyone." As I was looking at the door her eyes looked up to me and it felt like my soul was ensnared. As she stood her hand trailed up my thigh to cup my balls and then get a firm hold of my hardening shaft. "We get dirty while getting cleaned up and then I will consider us square. No money, just sex."

My answer should have been hell no, all caps with about five exclamation marks behind it. However those eyes and that plump booty slowly walked me to the shower and I was stuck. My tears washed away by the shower as I surrendered to her once again. I could say it was to square the debt but I honestly wanted more.

As we kissed images of my wife flashed in my head. The good times, the bad, and the sex. True, experience was one hell of a teacher but my heart could never betray her. My mind arguing that this was just a release, purely physical. But the betrayal was there.

I dove into the deep end, pulling her closer and adding carnal passion to the kiss. I began to kiss down to her neck and she whispered into my ear.

"Use me. No limits just go crazy." Her voice husky with desire. "Please."

I'd pressed her against the wall and teased her with one hand while nibbling on her tit. The harder I bit the slicker she got. True to her words she didn't deny anything as I chomped down with force. Her yell turning into a muffled moan as she bit her bottom lip. My finger finding her inner folds while my thumb strummed her clit had her body trembling. This was something Sky relished and hated with a passion.

This woman welcomed the body trembling climax as I kissed my way down ignore the plea in her eyes. I scooped her up onto my shoulders giving full access of her lower extremities to my mouth. My goal was to keep it going as long as possible and possibly even give her another. Licking inside and out made her thighs squeeze as she pulled at my short dreads. Denying her the release of rolling my tongue along her clit until I felt her juices flowing down my chin.

An explosion went off in her body as I applied steady pressure to her clit. Her nails scratched at my scalp and her thighs blocked all sound as she locked them over my ears. As her climax came down she released her vice grip on me and breathed heavily. As I back away I flicked her clit one last time and felt her back away.

"Was that resistance?" A wicked smile spread across my face as she looked down sheepishly. I grabbed a towel from the rack and grabbed her hands. "I hope you can cover the damages."

I ripped the towel into several strips and soaked them with water and the hotel provided soap. With each one I would slowly slide them over another erogenous part of her body. I decided against the soap for the final strip. Opting instead to blindfold her with it. As I stood admiring this soapy piece of art I'd made her hands reached out for me. I sidestepped them and whispered into her ear.

"Not yet my pet."

She froze in place as the stream of water rained down on her. I quickly grabbed a cloth and bathed her body gently. Cleaning her from the neck down. She relaxed the longer this went on until she could no longer feel my touch. I watched as she tilted her head to listen for the faintest sound of me, searching for the smallest notion that I hadn't abandoned her.

As she reached for the blindfold I bound her hands and quietly shushed into her ears. These were the things I'd wanted to do with Sky but she didn't trust me to care for her this intimately. But here was this stranger willingly surrendering herself to me. Rubenesque body presented to me with no hesitation. I took her hands and placed them on my cock moving her hands to instruct her to stroke me.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and she instinctively went to her knees. Her face hovering inches away from me I pushed forward penetrating her lips. Her warm tongue swirling around my dick as I pushed in and out of her mouth.As her rhythm became steady I pulled back, forcing her to lean forward for me.

My deep chuckle was drowned out by the water. Her nose was pressed into my naval as she choked on my length. I forcefully pushed her off of me and watched as the water cleaned the spit and saliva from her face. I turned her around and pushed her onto all four. The water pounded on my back as I slowly eased inside of her. Building a steady motion and feeling her push back into me.

As I took over grabbing her hips and slamming into her the wet sounds echoed inside the bathroom. As much as I was enjoying this I needed to remember why I was doing it. I focused wholly on busting my nut and raising up out of here. Her clenching helped speed the process up and she could tell. She began to beg me not to pull out and I complied.

Exhausted I stayed in place as the water washed over me. I slowly pulled out cleaning my shaft as it shrank back to its flaccid state. I untied her and removed the blindfold. She eagerly fetched a washcloth to clean me up. I stood in place as she moved around me cleaning every inch. When she tried to get me hard again I swatted her hand away.

"That should square up our debt. And this hopefully remains a secret." I was rushing to get dressed and out of this blissful nightmare. "Please don't come looking for me."

"That's going to be hard considering how good pets are at finding their masters," she joked. "But I understand."

I winced at the nickname and bolted out of the door. With cleared street I cautiously steered to my home shaking my head at what I'd done. It couldn't be justified and I would be damned if she left me because of this. As I pulled into the parking garage a familiar powder blue Pontiac drove by me. The shirtless passenger was laughing as he turned to leave.

Shaking it off I walked through the halls of the apartment complex and fished out my keys to the door. Slow music could be heard through the door and the smell of fresh candles could be heard. I scrunched my brows in confusion because this was her post-coitus routine and I wasn't here last night. Then the realization hit me. He was here last night, snowed in with Sky, and we had just had our biggest fight ever.

My keys dropped to the floor as I slid down the opposite wall in dismay. I shook my head with doubt but the evidence was there. I couldn't accuse her after what I'd just done but for her to sleep with MY boss was a whole other level of betrayal. That smug bastard would probably be smiling every day just thinking about this. The rage took a hold of me as I forced myself up.

Shoving the key into the door I burst through it and saw her look of joy. It slowly faded as she saw the anger on my face. Her confused expression only made me feel worse.

"So I just saw Michael on his way out." Her realization didn't show as I began to explain. "He looked extremely happy considering he was snowed in 45 minutes away from his home. Any idea why that is?"

"He probably knows someone else who live nearby. I did tell you I saw him a few times in the neighborhood while I was out."

This brought up another realization in me. He was on lunch calls for two hours on those days. My apartment was 15 minutes away. Those lunch calls started when I got my promotion four months ago. She quit her job because I didn't want her to have to work again after she put me through college.

"I have all the addresses and contact information of all of his associates and sneaky links. None of them live near here. What was he doing HERE?"

Her face lost all expression as she shook her head. "You were gonna find out one way or another. Michael and I have been seeing each other and I think it's time you moved on as well."

There it was. The dagger through the heart I'd been waiting for. I clinched my fists as I paced through the front room. All the while she stood there with no expression or words. The tornado of thoughts going through my head landed on hurting her but I held it in. Looking back at her I could only ask one question.

"Why?"

"You're too nice to me. I need a man who can handle me, put me in my place and treat me how I want to be treated in private," She explained walking to the door. "He spoils me in public and uses me in private. Something a BOY like you wouldn't understand. And that's what I need in my life. Not someone who worships everything about me or is my every beckoning call."

"So I treated you like a queen and this is what you've wanted all along?" I slumped onto the chair shaking my head. The smile on my face scared me. "All this time and you said nothing."

"You're a great guy. And I'm sure someone out there would love to be with you." A bit of fear had entered her voice as she noticed the smile. "But I'm not the one you need. I'll be by to get my things later."

"So you hurt me and you're not even going to apologize?" I asked looking up at her.

"I'm pretty sure after last night we both knew this was where it was heading." She looked at me with a sly smile. "Although I may have broken you for the next poor girl."

The door closed behind her as I sat shaking my head. Her laughter should have done something to me, made me feel anything, but I could only think about the cougar. How I could use a stress reliever at this very moment. At that moment my phone buzzed. I sighed as I checked the notification.

An ad for therapy made me laugh to myself. After all of this I could do with some venting to help me get back to normal. I scrolled down and my jaw dropped. Dr. Clarice WIlliams had a picture of brunette hair flowing down to her shoulders and a pair of captivating green eyes hidden behind glasses. Was God sending me help or was the Devil tempting me? I shrugged and turned on my PS4 to play Paladins.

[hoodwinkd1]

the stars that shine Ch 2

Ch 1 here.

Chapter 2: woke up to find that summer gone

Evangeline sat at the dark cherry desk in her bedroom, staring down at the piece of parchment which seemed to be staring right back at her. She had picked up a pen almost half an hour ago and had successfully written one line.

Dear Lys,

“Damn this!” Tossing the pen to the side, she stood and began pacing around the bed. Normally, her letters back to Caraverre were pages and pages of stories, filled with every minute detail and every silly joke that Lysandra and Aedion might enjoy. Tonight, she could barely get her thoughts in order enough to discuss what she’d eaten for dinner two hours ago.

Evangeline knew exactly who to blame for this conundrum. Hollin Havilliard.

Her first two weeks in Rifthold were amazing. Ever the social butterfly and lacking peer friendships back in Terrasen, Evangeline absolutely loved getting to know the other students in her lessons.

“You should come shopping with us next week,” Regina suggested, her smile genuine. As the third eldest daughter of the Callot family, the largest noble support of Adarlan’s fashion industry, Regina would certainly have good taste. “Anya and I are looking for springtime outfits.”

The other girl had jumped in then. “How long will you be staying? My parents always plan a trip to the country house right after the Spring Solstice and I can bring a few friends.”

So yes, Evangeline had no problem making friends. She was downright delightful and ready to try anything, go on any adventure.

Her lessons were equally wonderful. Part of the reason she came to Rifthold was to expand her education, filling in gaps that Darrow had no expertise in, and she enjoyed the challenge immensely.

Point being, she should have plenty to write home about. The shopping trip, the mathematics concept she finally mastered, even the amazing duck stew she tried two nights ago.

Unfortunately, the fond memory of her duck stew faded when she remembered what had immediately followed.

Dear Lys,

I had the most awkward night of my life. I’m relatively confident I’ve made my first enemy and I may never go back to the ballet after this traumatizing experience.

No, she couldn’t possibly send that. Aedion would charge into the palace and demand revenge at the mere thought of anyone disliking Evangeline, if he didn’t laugh himself to death trying to imagine the concept first.

Her popularity aside, she was still in disbelief. Hollin had approached her first, offering to escort her to the royal box at the Rifthold Theater for a travelling dance troupe that evening. Evangeline accepted (delightfully and more than ready for an adventure). She even dug through her closet for the stunning cerulean gown Aelin had gifted for her fourteenth birthday.

And then the prince proceeded to ignore her. All night.

“Who goes two entire hours without speaking one word?” Evangeline grumbled, moving towards her closet to grab a nightgown. The letter could wait until tomorrow. “Why bother inviting me in the first place?”

Whatever. She would be just fine with her new friends, who’s families also owned boxes at the theater.

----

“It’s been two days.” Dorian dropped into the chair next to Hollin. “Two whole days, and I haven’t heard a word from either of you. Quite rude, if you ask me, considering it was my idea to take her to the ballet.”

Hollin kept his eyes on the book in front of him. “Some people think it’s rude to speak in a library. And yet, here we are.”

The king sighed, as if his little brother’s social life was as draining as running a nation. “At least tell me if you enjoyed yourself. Or if you think Eva enjoyed herself.”

“The dancers were talented.” Hollin turned a page. “I can’t speak for someone else’s opinion.”

Dorian huffed. “I meant, did you enjoy spending time with her?”

Hollin shut the book with a bit more force than needed. “Do you have nothing better to do than force me to go on dates with your friends’ wards? I’m working on something here.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a date!” Dorian protested. “Just...Evangeline is so delightful. And friendly. I thought she could, you know, be a friend?” His words trailed off at the end.

He heard the unspoken words. Hollin was not delightful and not friendly. Dorian probably hoped this picture-perfect girl could change him, mold him into a better prince.

“She has friends. And I have work to do.” He looked pointedly at the book strewn across his lap.

Dorian, finally, took the hint. “Fine. Enjoy your suspicious research.” He stood up, fixing his tunic. “I expect to see you at the merchant’s council dinner tomorrow night.”

Hollin waved him off. “See you then.” He’d been searching for some excuse to get out of that event, some way to avoid all the grouchy, greedy men that tried to grab the king’s attention.

Maybe if he fell off a horse, he could avoid politics for a few days.

----

The two months passed quite quickly. Evangeline was expected home in time for Aedion’s birthday celebration, so she took the last day in Rifthold to search for a gift. He might grumble about her spending money on him, letting his annoyance over aging take over his usual good mood, but Eva knew he would secretly cherish something special.

Anya had offered to join her, commandeering her family’s carriage for the trip. The two of them, along with Regina, had become inseparable during Evangeline’s stay.

She had never had friendships that were entirely her own before, outside of her family’s vast and unyielding legacy. Spending the day shopping tasted like freedom and youth.

“Where are we heading first?” Anya asked, shifting her long skirt to make room for Evangeline to sit on the bench next to her. “What does one even buy for the most infamous General in the world?”

So maybe she never could fully escape that legacy. Evangeline chose to ignore the honorific. “Aedion? He can be quite the sentimental type. I was imagining some sort of calendar he could use; one that I’d add drawings and photos and secret notes to. Something useful, but still personalized.”

“Oh, thank the Gods. I was terrified you would drag me to some boring weapons shop.” Anya fanned herself in mock horror. “Minsky’s has the best stationery.”

Once they arrived, Evangeline lost herself in the rows of parchment. She adored the smell of the shop, somewhere between a library and perfumery, thanks to the variety of candles that lined the walls.

She wandered for a while, enjoying the feel of books, journals, scrolls, and other trinkets underneath her fingertips. Anya struck up a conversation with Minsky, the elderly owner who apparently had very strong opinions about what time of day one should light lavender candles.

Evangeline stopped in front of the rack she’d been looking for, eyeing the different color choices. Each calendar looked sturdy and durable, perfect for Aedion’s regular travels, but only a few had carrier cases. She selected the emerald one, to match Lysandra’s eyes.

“Oh that’s lovely!” Anya beamed as Evangeline joined them at the counter. “Very practical.”

Minksy nodded solemnly as they checked the price. “Smart child, finding a way to stay organized.”

“It’s actually a gift,” Evangeline corrected. “Would you have any wrapping supplies?”

They pulled out a few choices of paper, and the girls left the shop with the package securely tucked under Evangeline’s arm.

Anya opened the door of the carriage to let her enter first. “Do we have any other errands - Gods!” Her question was cut off with a curse. “Galen, you scared the life out of me.”

Evangeline found herself face first with Anya’s older brother. He shot her an apologetic look.

“I spotted the carriage and didn’t fancy a walk back to the house,” he explained, musing at his dark locks with one hand. “Any change you two lovely ladies want to go out for lunch?”

“You are unbelievably annoying,” Anya sighed. She moved to sit next to him, glancing at Evangeline. “What do you think? One last meal before you go?”

Galen turned to face her as well. “Leaving so soon?”

Evangeline hadn’t had many interactions with the older boy. Galen had danced with her at one of their parents’ parties, and had teased her a couple times when she joined them for dinner. But all of a sudden, Evangeline found herself wishing for some more time in Rifthold for an entirely new reason.

“I have to return to Caraverre tomorrow,” she informed him. “It’s my....it’s Aedion’s birthday.” Explaining their relationship was difficult enough, and easily avoided since everyone knew exactly who he was.

“Pity,” Galen replied. “But that just means I have to treat you to the best sandwiches Rifthold has to offer before you go.”

Anya groaned. “He always drags us to this tiny little place, when there are plenty of nice restaurants around.”

“A tiny little place sounds perfect,” Evangeline reassured. The carriage jolted forward, carrying them away from the main streets.

An hour later, she wasn’t lying in the slightest when she praised her meal. The sandwiches were really quite good. And the twinkle in Galen’s eyes when she stole one of his chips was even better.

“Oh goodness,” Anya interrupted as they stepped outside into the twilight hour. “I left my pouch at the table. Be right back.” She strode back into the restaurant, leaving Galen and Evangeline alone by the doorway.

Galen leaned against the stone. “Do you have plans to return to Adarlan?”

“Not in the next half-year,” Evangeline admitted. Her thumb rubbed the edge of her pointer finger, a nervous tick despite her calm tone. Was there meaning behind his question? “I’m due to spend two months with one of my mentors in Arran after some time at home.”

“Pity.” He offered her a light smile. She prayed to the former Gods to keep her face from turning pink. “Next time you come around, I’ll have to move faster. Ask you on a date at the beginning of your stay, instead of the end.”

Evangeline couldn’t hold back a wide grin. “Yes, I suppose you will.”

---

Hollin threw himself onto his bed, head spinning a bit from the wine he snuck during dinner. Evangeline was leaving tomorrow, a fact that wouldn’t affect his life much since Dorian had stopped forcing a friendship between them.

Maybe the wine was a mistake. The prince didn’t like alcohol much, knew he was far too young to start drinking, but insomnia had plagued him for weeks now. Hollin tried so many home remedies, from herbal teas to meditation, before attempting to drink himself to sleep that night.

It wasn’t working.

He still couldn’t force his mind to relax. Ideas for new experiments and inventions swirled around, mixed with memories of his most recent failures that stabbed him with self-doubt. Then came the childhood memories, the horror of being raised by the devil without noticing and the shame of past cruelties keeping him far from relaxation.

Hollin groaned into his pillow. He wanted someone to talk to. It was such a simple solution, one that most people would find easy. Dorian had even hired a specialist, a healer who worked with minds as well as bodies, for palace staff who needed help after a traumatizing war. Hollin had paced by their office more times than he could count, never entering.

Somehow, he fell asleep before sunrise. A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of restless dreams.

“Hollin?” He recognized Herina’s voice, one of his personal servants who was years past using formalities. Changing a baby's diaper gave one that privilege. “I have your schedule for the day.”

Hollin stood up, blindly feeling for the robe hanging next to his dresser. “Come in, thank you.”

She pushed the door open, pulling a cart of food behind her. “I didn’t see you eat nearly enough at dinner last night, certainly not enough to be stealing drinks of wine like you did.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but shut it quickly. “I - thank you,” he said again, too tired to form a better sentence.

Herina left the cart by the entrance and walked further into the chamber. “You have a couple lessons scheduled, one before lunch and one in the evening. Light day.”

“Not too terrible.” Hollin took the parchment from her. “Herina..” He trailed off.

“Yes?”

“Could you - do you know how to add things to my schedule?” he asked.

She nodded. “Of course. What grabbed your interest?”

He pushed past his discomfort at the idea. If he didn’t sleep well after, that would be the end of it. “Training. Physical, that is. I’d like to learn how to fight.”

Herina eyed him warily, no doubt taking in the lanky and awkward features that haunted most fourteen year old boys. “You know the king would never expect you to fight. He knows that isn’t where your interests lie.”

“I know.” Gods, he was blushing now. “It’s for myself, just a new hobby.”

Thankfully she moved on. “Well, alright then. Don’t be late today.”

With a final meaningful look at the breakfast, she left. Hollin thought about ignoring the food and falling immediately back to sleep, but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. He would need the calories if he planned to actually follow through with his new training idea.

If getting knocked on his ass for two hours a day didn’t help him fall asleep, then nothing would,

[mca-attack21]

After

A/N: This is the second part of Too Late. 

Peter went back to the tower and received the needed medical attention. His aunt would show up and be so relieved that he was in one piece. She would hold him as he cried and tell him that everything would be okay while silently cursing the world for being so cruel to the young boy who deserved a break. After a while, she would have to leave with Happy to start sorting everything out. Other Avengers would come in and offer Peter their condolences, promising that they would be there for him if he needed anything. Tony practically moved into Peter’s room, not wanting to leave him alone. The worst part came when Y/n’s mother showed up. He expected her to scream at him for killing her daughter. But instead, she just told him how relieved she was that he was okay. She cried, he cried, she explained to him that the funeral would be held a week later and asked that he speak if he was up for it. She reminded him of how much you loved him and told him that he could come by any time. 

Two days later he went back to his Aunt’s apartment. Everywhere he looked he saw you, memories flashing. He remembered the countless movie marathons (and maybe make-out sessions) on the couch. He remembered disasters in the kitchen and the flour fight you had when he discovered you trying to bake his birthday cake last year. He remembered chasing you through the halls, both of you laughing, him kissing you when he caught you in his arms. He slowly made it up to his room trying to keep it together. But, that was honestly pointless. As he opened the door, he saw the multiple shirts he had tried on before your date sprawled across his bed. He pushed them on to the ground and laid down just wanting everything to stop for a minute. But his mind refused him such pleasantries.

Instead, he thought about the nights you had spent studying together. The time that you had discovered he was Spider-Man. He replayed multiple conversations the two of you had had. He remembered the day he asked you out, your first date, the times he went to your house after a particularly bad night whether it was to be patched up or just to talk. His mind continued on like that until he eventually drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Aunt May came in and brought Peter breakfast which he hardly touched. She sighed as she was at a loss for what to do. He stayed in his room all day, only getting up to use the restroom. He just wanted to be left alone and she tried to respect that, no matter how hard it was to watch him push her away again.

After two more days of refusing visitors and ignoring the outside world, Peter’s aunt informed him that your mother had called and asked him to stop by. He honestly didn’t want to, but he figured he owed her that much. So he forced himself to shower and get dressed. He then proceeded to walk the too familiar path to your apartment, which again was accompanied by various memories that caused his chest to hurt. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do this. He eventually made it outside your door, thinking about the first time he kissed you, right there in that hallway. He hesitated, and finally knocked softly.

Your mom answered and Peter could see how upset she was, not that anyone could blame her. She invited him to come inside and take a seat on the couch. He still didn’t know exactly why he was here.

“I went today to get her stuff- from the car. This- I think it belongs to you,” she said handing him the small ring box with the promise ring he planned on giving you that night. As he took it, his eyes closed as he tried not to cry again, not in front of your mom. She too was on the verge of tears as he pulled something else out of the bag. “Th-this was in the trunk, it was her anniversary gift for you, she’d been working on it for weeks,” she said taking a deep breath and handing it to him. It was very neatly packaged in blue wrapping paper with a red ribbon. He turned it over in his hands.

Noticing his hesitation, your mother reassured him that he didn’t have to open it now. He just stared at it. 

“Can I get you anything, Peter? Maybe something to drink? Or to eat? People keep dropping off casseroles,”

“I’m good, thanks,” he replied clearing his thoughts.

“You can go up to her room if you want, I like to go in there. It makes me feel closer to her,” she added.

“Yeah, I think I might do that.”

He absentmindedly walked up to your room. It looked exactly the same as it had when he had last seen it. He looked over your photo wall, glancing through the pictures mostly of the two of you. You were smiling and/or laughing in 99% of them. Seeing them brought a smile to his face. He walked around the rest of your room thinking about the time the two of you had spent together there. He took in your familiar scent and felt if only for a moment at peace. 

After a while, he made his way back downstairs. He thanked your mom and told her to reach out if she needed anything. She asked him if he planned on saying anything at your funeral on Saturday and he told her that he would. Though to be honest he had forgotten that that was even a thing. Not the funeral, just the speaking part. He would have to start thinking about it.

When he returned to his apartment, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find one of Tony’s cars was parked around the corner.

“Hey kiddo, how are you doing?” Tony asked as Peter entered.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied setting down the boxes from your house before sitting across from Tony.

“I wanted to check-in, and bring you this,” he said handing him a small shoebox,”

Peter was confused, to say the least. “Mr. Stark you didn’t have to get me anything,”

“I didn’t, it’s from Y/n. She gave it to me a few months ago, made me promise to hold on to it just in case something ever happened,” he explained waiting to see how Peter was going to react.

“She’s unbelievable,” Peter chuckled, the stopped was he thought. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” Tony asked most likely at Aunt May’s request.

“Not really, but I’m fine,” 

“Are you sure, I can have Happy can go pick something up and bring it by, he’s been worried about you,”

“I’m good, thanks though”

“Peter I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how hard all of this is for you, especially right now. You know that I and everyone else are here for you. If there is anything that any of us can do, all you have to do is say the word and we’re here.”

“I know Mr. Stark, thank you,”

“Okay kid, I’m going to give you some space so you can open that -when you’re ready. Make sure you eat something, if not for you, do it for your aunt who’s worried about you. Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll see you Saturday.”

“See you Saturday,” Peter mumbled before taking the three boxes upstairs to his room. 

He sat and stared at the anniversary gift and the apparent contingency plan. He debated which one to open first or whether he wanted to open either of them. Okay, that was stupid, obviously, he was going to open them. It was just a matter of when and in which order. After some thought, he made up his mind and picked up the blue box unwrapping it carefully. Inside, was a scrapbook. It had pictures from kindergarten to the present, but that wasn’t all that it had. It also contained some of your artwork and small memorabilia. For example, there were tickets from various movies, the receipt from your first date, the ribbon from the science fair the two of you won, and other things that Peter had absolutely no idea that you kept. His favorite part though was your handwritten additions. Small notes, song lyrics, quotes, and memories that you used to embellish the pages. You had narrated the entire story and it was beautiful. He spent hours going through it carefully, not wanting to miss anything.

When he finished, he put it back in the box and set it aside. He debated whether he wanted to also open the shoebox tonight as he had just been on an emotional roller-coaster. He hesitantly pulled it closer to him and pulled off the lid. There was a note on top which he read first.

Dear Peter, 

I hope that this note never has to be read. However, it needs to exist. So, here we go I guess. In this box, you will find two things, first a Funko Pop! and secondly a flash drive with a video that I recorded for you. 

The Funko Pop! is Kylo Ren. And you may be asking yourself why out of every character in existence, I would choose him. So here’s my reasoning: 1. You love Star Wars 2. I’m guessing that the world seems a little darker than normal right now, so I figured that he could serve as a reminder that no matter how far into the “dark side” you go that there is always redemption and light.

I love you Peter Benjamin Parker.

Forever and Always,

Y/f/n Y/l/n 

Peter took out the Funko Pop! And set it on his desk as he retrieved his laptop and queued up the video. He tried to mentally prepare himself for it, but it was no use.

Hi Peter,

So if you are seeing this something happened to me. I don’t know whether it was Spider-Man related or not. I guess it really doesn’t matter. I just wanted to tell you not to blame yourself. And believe me, I know you well enough to know that you will try to. Even if I live to be 102 and die peacefully in my sleep of natural causes you’d still be looking for a way to blame yourself. That’s kinda your thing, putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. Anyways, no matter what happened, it wasn’t your fault. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I agreed to be your friend, partner in crime, and your girlfriend.

You are so good Peter. You are truly a breath of fresh air. While others actively ignore the pain and suffering in the world, you go out of your way to make a difference. You protect those who can’t protect themselves and you never expect anything in return. Your life has presented you with so many challenges and so many reasons to turn cold, but instead, they made you kind.

Please keep fighting. Don’t lose hope, find something that inspires you, and use it to make you better. Make the most of every minute because life is unpredictable, beautiful, and ephemeral. That’s kinda the whole point isn’t it?

I could keep talking to you for hours, but at the same time, I feel like there isn’t much more to be said.

I love you Peter, and I know that you will get through this. I believe in you and know that you will do great things in life. There is nothing that you can’t do if you put your mind to it. Keep fighting the good fight. Or should I say keep swinging the good swing. Maybe I should go for, ‘May the Force be with you’? Hopefully that made you laugh or at least smile. God, your smile can save lives. So I feel that it is my personal duty right here and now to remind you to smile everyday. More importantly be the reason someone else smiles.

The world can be dark and scary and cruel. But there is so much beauty and goodness. You just have to seek it out. I wish you the absolute best this world has to offer. I love you, always and forever.  

Oh by the way, just in case there is any doubt, I am totally okay with you move on. In fact I want you to. Find a girl that makes you happy, who makes you more, and then allow yourself to enjoy it. Absolutely under no circumstance do I want you to use me as an excuse to stop living. 

Stay Gold Spider-Man.

And with that, the camera clicked off and the video ended. Peter replayed it again, taking in your voice and smile. This whole thing felt so surreal, like a bad dream that he had simply yet to wake from. That video though, it was something he hadn’t realized that he needed until he had seen it. It was like the fog was beginning to clear and he knew that everything would be okay.

When he woke up, he ate half of his lunch, which satisfied Aunt May. He then sat at his desk to do the impossible task before him. He had to figure out what it was that he wanted to say at your funeral the next day. He must have written and deleted at least 10 speeches. Nothing was good enough. It needed to be perfect. He would sit there in front of that computer for hours. When he finished, he was entirely shocked to see that it was after 2 am. 

May woke him up so that he had plenty of time to get ready for the service. The drive there was silent and Peter was thinking over his speech. When he arrived, Tony came to greet him. He wasn’t surprised to see many of the avengers in attendance. You were always with him at the tower and had become close to several of them. The service was short and sweet, your mom spoke, and then she asked for him to come up and say a few words. 

It was in the moment that he reached the podium that he decided to entirely disregard his speech. And instead, speak from his heart. 

“From the time I was a little kid, I always wanted to be one of the avengers. I wanted to have superpowers and make the world a better place. Y/n taught me that you don’t have to have powers to change the world. You just have to make a choice to be kind and do the right thing. She was one of the bravest and most beautiful people I have ever met. She always saw the best in people and went out of her way to make a difference in the lives of others. She radiated kindness, and inspired those who knew her. She always was there for me and never gave up on me. She taught me how to find the good in everything. She was the love of my life, my best friend, and my hero. She taught me how to become something more than I ever thought I could be. She saved my life in more ways than one and I will carry her with me every day of my life.” he finished quickly returning to his seat.

After that, you were buried and everyone went their separate ways. The following Monday, Peter finally went back to school. It wasn’t easy, but he had to start somewhere. It would take him three more days before he was able to put the Spider-Man suit back on. From there, he took it day by day. Some were harder than others, but he persisted. He walked at graduation and then swung by your grave to talk to you about his future plans. He was sure that you were proud of him. He spent most of his summer in the Avengers tower with Tony. In the fall, he’d be attending college. And from there who knew what would happen. But whatever life threw at him, he would remember to seek out the good and to do kindness recklessly as you had taught him.

[caxsthetic]

Separate Ways

Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu

In this world we live in, people who come into our life would leave eventually. But sometimes, we could find a couple of people that will stay by our side—even if the world turns their back on us.

Part 1 > Pt. 2

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sun peeked through the windows of the gymnasium, filling the space to accompany the one student that decided to visit the place. His golden yellow hair swayed as he proceeded. He began throwing the volleyball to the wall as there was no one else in sight that could receive the ball for him. Miya Atsumu wasn't supposed to be there right now, moping around inside the place that he spent the majority of his high school years at.

He was supposed to be outside with the other second years, cheering and maybe taking some pictures with their seniors. After all, his captain had stated that the entire time was supposed to be full of high spirits. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t imagine himself to laugh and banter with everyone while his heart was still profound with loneliness.

The memories made him drop his hands to the side, letting the ball bounce freely on the hardwood floor. He carefully raised his hands, gazing at them as he noted how calloused the skin was. The only sound that could be heard was the murmur of the third years that were now outside, probably done with the ceremony already.

His ear perked up when he heard the sounds of the door being opened. He didn’t bother turning around to know who it was, already knowing who exactly stood at the gymnasium door, staring at the back of his head.

“You shouldn’t be here, Atsumu.” His whole body shuddered. Even after two years having Kita as his captain, he still couldn’t get used to how the monotonous voice jabbed at his soul. “Everyone was wondering where you are.” Kita closed the gymnasium door behind him, walking towards his underclassman.

He gazed towards the setter that he knew would be the next captain of the Inarizaki Volleyball Boys Club. Atsumu always looked so confident, didn’t care about a thing as long as he felt that what he did was right. But right now, the usually prideful man, stood on the side of the gymnasium with melancholy written on his face. “Osamu was looking for you.”

Atsumu clenched his hand into a fist when he heard the name of his brother, and from that little gesture, Kita was sure what had been creeping behind the setter’s mind.

“I don’t care.” Atsumu clicked his tongue, grabbing the volleyball that fell not far from where he stood. Trying to ease his own pain, his orbs were filled with blazing fire as he slammed the ball forcefully to the walls, again and again, hoping that it could make him calm down.

“When we are in our deathbeds… I am gonna turn and look you right in your face… And say I had a happier life!”

Atsumu's body was there as his eyes focused on the ball, but his mind wandered somewhere. There was like a storm inside him—rage, sadness, dread, all mixed into one. Every time he turned around, he was always back to the moment when his brother told him that he would be alone from now on. He would be alone in this path, because the silver haired man wouldn’t be there for him anymore.

“Your action was unreasonable.” The voice of his captain made the setter stop his movement. His eyes dilated, shocked to hear the hurtful truth that his captain blurted. But being a prideful man he was, he pivoted his head to the side, glaring at his captain who looked back at him with an untroubled gaze.

“Unreasonable…?” Atsumu’s voice dripped with venom, his hands gripped on the volleyballs, so tight that even Kita thought it could be deflated by any moment, “You didn’t know anything about me, Kita-san. You have no right to tell me that I am unreasonable.”

The setter walked closer to the man that he respected so much. He always listened to what Kita said, but now, blind with pride, didn’t want to admit that what he did for the couple of months was indeed unreasonable.

“You ignoring Osamu since he decided to leave volleyball after high school was unreasonable, Atsumu.” Kita stated his opinion with a calm tone, not wanting to rile the man in front of him even further. “Both of you wouldn’t be at peace if this goes-”

“What?” Atsumu gritted his teeth, wondering why Kita stopped his sentence, “Come on, Kita-san. Throw all of the truth that you want me to hear.” But the captain just stood there, letting out a long sigh as he fetched a nicely folded handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to the man who apparently didn't realise that his eyes glimmered with tears.

His gaze darted from his captain to the handkerchief in front of him, vision blurred with the tears that were now escaping from his orbs, slowly cascading down on his cheek. Atsumu inhaled sharply before falling to the ground, heart racing as he clutched on his own shirt, wanting the tears to stop.

For years, since junior high, he always had his brother through everything. No matter if the world hated him, no matter if everyone despised his mere existence, he always had Miya Osamu by his side—certain that the opposite wing spiker would never leave him.

That until one particular day where his twin confessed the nagging feelings that he had inside his heart.

“You what?” Atsumu dropped the ball in his hand, focusing himself to his brother, “I think I didn’t hear you correctly,”

“I am going to take a business major once I am out of high school, ‘Tsumu.” The opposite wing spiker clenched and unclenched his hand, “And yes, I am going to leave volleyball for good.”

Leave volleyball. The words ringing at the back of his head—eyes widened when he heard the words out from his brother’s lips.

“Tsumu?”

He didn’t know what to do, for years he had planned everything. Atsumu was certain that he would always play volleyball with his twin brother at the same court with him. So why now? Why after everything that the two had been going through together, why did Osamu decide to leave him?

“Hey, ‘Tsumu. You there?”

The rest of the volleyball’s club members focused on their setter, wondering why he was silent all of a sudden. Atsumu felt like he couldn’t breath, he was so passionate before, smiling and laughing, enjoying the one sport that he loves so much.

It was so enjoyable, to have something that he could share with his twin brother that he held dear to his heart. The two of them were nothing alike— personality wise —but through volleyball, it felt like they became one. So it broke him into pieces when he knew he would chase the dream alone.

Overwhelmed by the gloomy outlook inside his head, Atsumu swung his fist towards the only man that he would die for, his very own twin.

"Are you going to ignore me until we are on our deathbeds?"

Atsumu just scoffed, decided to just walk faster so he didn't have to see his brother's face. It's been days after the graduation ceremony of their seniors, but nothing changed between them. He could hear the opposite wing spiker letting out a sigh, tired from the ignorance that he throw towards him, "Tsu-"

"Oi, Suna!" And once again, the setter freed himself from his brother’s presence. It was always like this since the incident, and even though Kita already told him about what he should do, somehow he still couldn’t look at his brother without the urge to break down.

To say his heart was strong was not a false statement. Miya Atsumu always gives the best for all the things that he did—especially volleyball. He put one hundred percent of his power for every serve, he didn’t care if he would break his joint when he did an impossible set to the spiker, he never cared about it because what he knew; he loved volleyball and it was something that he would never let go. That, and his twin brother.

But everyone had a weakness, and Miya Atsumu’s weakness was the same as his strength. God created Miya Osamu, the one who he shared his soul with. They were together even before they were born, survived in this world side by side, knowing that they had each other.

So when his twin decided to stray from the path, making his own way in this life, was it wrong for him to feel this way?

Even now when they were circled around, listening to their coach, Atsumu could never erase the memories when his twin brother came up to him a few days after their loss in nationals—only to inform him that he would no longer continue to play the sports that had bonded them for years.

“Miya Atsumu.” The setter came back from his daydream when Coach Kurosu called his name. He looked around, swallowed a huge lump as he realised everyone was staring at him. The last thing that he remembered was the lecture about leadership and such before his mind engulfed by the wild thought about him and his brother once again.

“Y-Yes, coach?” Coach Kurosu raised one of his eyebrows when he heard him stutter, making his wrinkles more visible on his forehead. From all the time that he spent observing the twins, one thing that he never thought would happen was how the Miya Atsumu, stuttering on the first day of practice at his last year of high school.

“Are you going to take this, or not?” Atsumu blinked for a few seconds before standing up, eyes focused on the black jersey that his coach held in his hand. He walked towards the older man, looking around one more time, noting that he was the first person who received the jersey.

He stared at the white coloured number that was written on the jersey. It was so similar with his old one, yet somehow, the changes of number and the white line under it, brought a big impact in his life in volleyball for a year onward. With his heart swelling pride, he bowed towards the coach. A smile never left his face as he sat between Suna and Ginjima, getting a playful tease from them.

“Miya Osamu.” However, his smile faltered when he heard his twin’s name being called right after him. He cocked his eyebrows, wondering why the wing spiker now had a new jersey number. But he shrugged it off, averting his gaze when the silver haired man walked back after receiving the jersey.

His gaze was back to his own, thumb caressing the fabric. At this moment, something clicked inside of him. He didn’t need his twin brother to pursue his dream, he didn’t need his twin brother to win everything, he didn’t need anyone, to be better at volleyball.

Miya Atsumu was sure that the reason he was chosen to be the captain instead of anyone else, was the fact that he was the best player in the team. He didn’t even realise what was creeping inside his mind at the moment—arrogance, something that could bring him to his own impending doom if anyone didn’t slap him back to consciousness.

The setter was too absorbed with his own diluted mind as pride started to eat him alive little by little. Dark orbs that belonged to his twin caught the outlandish look that the golden yellow blond had on his face. Miya Atsumu may never need his twin brother to rule the volleyball court.

But maybe, just maybe, he still needed his twin brother to make sure he didn’t become a monster that he could be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*     ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶    *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

@vventure @nitricflame​ @muffins-puffins @yusemis @nanashinanashi @vlovers-world @kashika @blacckdiamondposts @muffngw @baby-boy-taichi @of-heroes-and-dreams @for-ests @iwaixiumi @miyatsunami @giyuwu-san @hihiq @gulfwanq @the-fandom-ness @quirksandbreaths @rintarhoe @verbluehte @simp4tsukkii @ladyalicevii @evermorehaikyuu @clowninfortodoroki @koutaroulovebot @daiseukis @fitriiaw @macaronnv @mistypoison

[writings-in-ebony]

Extended Vacation - 2

Summary: You have to prove yourself to Steve’s friends and your journey finally begins!

Author’s note: Hello everyone! Why is Reader such a tease? Because SHE IS ABLE TO BE ONE! She’s a badass!

A reminder: Prompt was created by @sugarthicc​ and she gave me permission to write this.Thanks again! 

Prompt: Have reader have a personality like Meg the Stallion.

Word Count:1872

Warnings: Bad language

Chapter 2

“Steve falls off his bike, what do you do?” The questions and scenarios were seemingly endless, but understandable. You were sitting in a chair, a rather uncomfortable one mind you, facing the suffocating intimidation of Bucky, Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to them, you were extremely prepared for this and any questions they threw at you. After Steve officially took you on as his assistant, you spent countless hours researching his friends, his enemies, and anything you felt like you had the right to know. You also made sure to study different scenarios and issues that might crop up during your journey. So, yeah, you were prepared for everything they threw at you. But the cold, killer expressions from Bucky and Natasha didn’t help in easing any nerves.

“I immediately pull over my car, survey traffic and proceed to help him off the road. If he sustained any injuries, I would go to my car and retrieve my first aid kit.”

“There is an attack on your hotel and the lights are shut off. All methods of contacting the outside are jammed or shut off. What do you do?” Bucky asked this questioned and leaned over the table, as if he was going to pounce you. As if he dared you to say something stupid. But you didn’t flinch because that’s what they wanted, you to break.

“I go get Steve in the next room,” you were cut off by Natasha’s hand slapping the table.

“What if he’s not in the next room? He’s in the pool, on the twentieth floor, while you are on the tenth.” She immediately made the situation more complicated.

“I would retrieve my phone since the pool is most likely open air if it’s on the twentieth floor. Quietly take the stairs since the elevators are down and make it to Steve as fast as I can.” You barely got out your last word before Sam was interjecting with his own additions.

“You get there, and Steve has a knife in his leg and a gun aimed at his head. What do you do?” Before you could answer, the door to the interrogation room slammed open and there stood both Steve and Tony. They aimed disapproving glares at the trio in front of you.

“You know when I said make sure the new girl feels “welcome”, I didn’t expect that “welcome” to be a full-blown interrogation session,” Tony ground out. He looked like he wanted to say more, but Sam beat him to the punch.

“We have to make sure that she is prepared for every situation. She is basically the only person in charge of America’s hero on this trip. Someone who just arrived only a month prior. Who has no knowledge of Steve and how- .” He stopped when he heard your chair abruptly scrape the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry to interject, Mr. Wilson. But I thoroughly researched and analyzed not only Mr. Rogers, but his enemies and his friends. Steven Grant Rogers has no physical health issues currently listed in his file. He suffers from insomnia, night terrors and nightmares, which I got by looking at his mental health notes and the inconsistent visitations to his psychiatrist. They usually occur on the weekdays but will definitely happen after a mission. He is not on any prescribed medications, primarily due to his metabolism, and his last panic attack was around three years ago.” You completely ignored the shocked expressions of Steve, Sam and Tony. Bucky kept his expression nonchalant and Natasha only raised an eyebrow. But you kept going.

“Mr. Rogers has fourteen major enemies whose whereabouts are currently not near any of the locations we will be visiting, but I talked with Mr. Fury about making sure that there’s security on standby in all our locations anyway. I also made sure that Jarvis is installed in all my devices so that he can monitor and track our locations and offer me any feedback and updates.”

“As for friends, Steve Rogers has a close connection with Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson, and Tony Stark. I noticed with the younger Avengers they look up to him as a father figure or brother. It depends. With his friends, Mr. Rogers naturally relaxes and lets out his true personality. I’ve observed that he’s sarcastic, sassy, and loves listening to conversation even if he, himself, cannot understand what the subject is or its context. In unknown or strange company however, Mr. Rogers displays shy or reserved behavior. Negative behaviors include stubbornness, irrational thinking, and the tendency to thrust himself into dangerous situations without thinking of his own health. But I can literally go on about what I found, but it’s fruitless. Ms. Romanov has already researched into me and read my file, anyway.” Tony and Sam looked dumbstruck as their gazes fell on Natasha. She didn’t even look at them, instead she aimed a smirk at you and you officially took that as a win.

“How did you know Natasha researched you?” Tony slowly asked.

“Oh! Jarvis makes a note of everyone who views the files and she and Ms. Potts already researched me and read up on me. I just wanted to check to see who read my file.” You let a small smile slip and Bucky scoffed.

“I like her,” he grumbled, obviously trying to hide a smile. “Well, if Natasha read your file and you still have both legs, I take it you fit the bill.”

“She does,” Natasha admitted.

“But why the interrogation?!” Sam looked at her as if she betrayed him.

“Because I had to scare her and see her reactions,” she shrugged. “She passed, but I’ve been watching her this entire month. She’s fine in my book.” You smiled warmly at her and she winked at you, proceeding to exit the room. Bucky and Sam followed also, but Sam was giving her an earful for her deception. Tony apologized for their behavior which you quickly dismissed and excused. He made his exit and that left you with a blotchy-faced Steve.

“Wow, you…uh…know so much about me. Like a lot,” he admitted. He was extremely uncomfortable, and you walked towards him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Steve, I just wanted to be prepared for my job. If I didn’t know everything that made you tick or could put you in harm, my job would be pointless and your friends wouldn’t even let me be in the same room as you, let alone accompany you on a cross-country trip. If you wanna know about me, I’ll send you my file immediately and you can read everything. I thought you would anyway.”

He bashfully looked at the ground, realizing that he should’ve done that. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy. I…uh…thought I could figure you out without a piece of paper telling me,” he sounded a little bitter and you understood where it was coming from.

“I didn’t get half of the things I just said from reading a piece of paper. This entire month was dedicated to me watching you from afar. I did my own character analysis, while asking others what they see you as. You might not like this, but you’re very transparent.” He visibly winced. “And as you’ll come to realize, I am very blunt. But just because I know about some of your secrets, does not reflect how I view you as a person. That very first day, when I called you a badass, was the truth and it still holds up. You’re a hero to America for a reason.” You lightly tapped his shoulder and walked away.

 ~~

 Steve should have known this trip was a bad idea. He should have known! He should have cancelled and claimed he had an illness. But no, that wouldn’t work because Captain America can’t get sick! He was being tormented and the tormenter was you! What could he do as you walked out of the convenience store, long legs bare and shorts riding up on your…? He couldn’t even bring himself to finish. He turned away and continued filling his bike with gas, face heating up and body reacting in ways he wishes it wouldn’t.

You were both stopped at a convenience store somewhere in Pennsylvania. It wasn’t too crowded, given there were already two cars filling up when you both pulled in. It wasn’t a small gas station, but it also wasn’t a large brand either.

Your car was already filled, since it didn’t burn that much gas, and you had decided to get some snacks and drinks for the road. And would he be lying if he said his eyes didn’t track the way you sauntered into the convenience store like you were a queen strolling past her subjects? What possessed you to wear those godforsaken shorts? And that deep V-neck t-shirt that gripped your thickness and put you on display? You were his assistant and here he was, drooling like a kid in a candy store.

“…something to drink,” Steve startled out of his stupor and turned to see you were raising a blue energy drink to his face.

“Huh?”

“I asked did you need something to drink. You look overheated, which is very uncharacteristic. Are you feeling okay?” She gazed up at Steve with big eyes, her lips parted and inviting.

“Thank you, yeah. I’m feeling okay, just a little hot and the wind…Yeah.” God, he sounded like a dumbass. Her eyes furrowed in even more confusion but looked pleased when Steve reached out and grabbed the drink. He really wanted his bike to hurry up and fill because he was running out of other things to stare at.

“So, you liking the trip so far? I know we’re only five hours into the trip, and we have two more hours before we get to Cleveland, but are you enjoying just riding?” She popped open the cap of her own drink.

“Yeah! It’s so…freeing? It’s like I can think about myself without thinking about others. It’s just me and the road. And I wanna thank you for allowing me to have that feeling,” he trailed off as he watched you drink. He fixated on your puckered lips around the top and actually flinched when you popped your lips and released a content sigh.

You turned back to him and smiled up at him, seemingly disregarding his creepy staring. “That’s good. But you know, I’m getting honked by angry citizens for your freedom.” She waggled a finger at him as if scolding him, but a humorous smirk was plastered on her face. He chuckled and heard the nozzle of the gas tank pop. Finally! He quickly removed the nozzle and screwed on the cap to the tank.

“Well, back to driving,” he beamed, swinging his leg over the bike. “You ready?” He looked at you expectantly and you threw him a thumbs up.

“Sure thing, Steve. And by the way,” she walked over to him and leaned down next to his face so that only he could hear. “You don’t have to be so bashful. It’s okay to stare. It’s actually very flattering.” And with that, she squeezed his bicep and sauntered back to her car.

[jaybear1701]

Chain Link Pt. 2

Summary: Scylla very reluctantly agrees to a plan to kill two birds with one stone: defeat the Camarilla while getting back on Raelle’s good side. Maybe. Also on AO3.

The sun was breaking over the horizon by the time Scylla made it back to Prosperity Road, hitching rides from civilians persuaded by a little bit of Work. She could picture Anacostia’s stern eye of disapproval, if she ever found out about Scylla’s extracurricular activities. But necessity knew no law, and the sooner she got back to the safe house, the better. There, she could at least take a shower and get a modicum of rest. Or at least she hoped. 

After everything Scylla had seen in the last 24 hours, she had no doubt that the massacre would besiege her dreams the minute she fell asleep. Even now, she couldn’t rid herself of the memory of her brother and sister witches with their vocal cord viciously ripped from their throats, their bodies perversely arranged in a mock pentagram. She clung to the anger that seared in her gut, a longstanding companion that perversely comforted her, in some ways.  

It kept her focused on the mission, and not other… distractions.

Distractions with blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

There were more important things, Scylla told herself. Like eliminating their enemies. And maybe, finally securing the freedom she and countless others had already sacrificed their souls for.

Red-eyed and exhausted, she stepped off a bus a block away from Willa Collar’s home base tucked away in a sleepy residential sidestreet bathed in morning light. Her burnt attire drew a few curious stares from the neighbors. But for the most part they minded their own business, too engrossed in their routines and absent-minded goodbyes. 

Scylla proceeded down the concrete sidewalk, past a wrought-iron fence, and up the path toward the unassuming bungalow with bright yellow siding. Swiping a finger along the front door’s knob, she drew a complicated sigil to unlock it and step inside. To her great relief, no one was in the living room. A debrief was the last thing she needed right now. 

But as soon as she grasped the banister of the staircase, a resident appeared at the top of the steps--the same young woman who had been guarding the safe house when Scylla first arrived months ago.

“She wants to see you,” Cassidy said, bleary-eyed, long brown hair tangled from sleep.

Scylla let out a frustrated sigh. “What, now?” 

Cassidy merely shrugged, like, tough shit. 

Closing her eyes briefly, she cursed under her breath, knowing she shouldn’t shoot the messenger, no matter how tempting. “Where is she then?”  

“Out back.” Yawning, Cassidy was already turning around to go back to her room. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

Scylla toyed with ignoring the order all together and going up anyway. But it was best to just get it over with. She made her way through the house and out the back entrance, past a small garden and a hammock, toward a studio that Willa would disappear inside, sometimes for hours at a time. 

She rapped her knuckles against the door, waiting until she heard, “Enter,” before pushing it open. Inside, Willa stood by a makeshift war table strewn with maps, books, and scrolls. She faced a wall covered in mirrors of all shapes and sizes, a few reflecting the silhouettes of other cell leaders. Scylla propped herself against a wall, hands tucked into her pockets, not wanting to call attention to herself.

“This atrocity cannot go unanswered,” one of them said, its deep voice distorted. “We must retaliate.”

A part of Scylla strongly agreed, with the slaughter still so fresh in her mind. Blood for blood. But she remained silent as she regarded Willa. 

“Our truce with Alder is… tenuous… at best,” Willa said in her southern drawl, arms crossed and head held high. “We must not jeopardize it with an attack on civilians.”

“Your truce,” a different Spree chimed in from an oval mirror. “Not ours.”

Willa’s jaw clenched. “It’d be beneficial for us all to avoid a two-front war with the Camarilla and the military. Our time for revenge will come, but not at the expense of our path to freedom.”

The glassy shadows shimmered in their frames, but none contradicted her. “We shall not be denied vengeance for long,” another said before they disappeared entirely, leaving Willa and Scylla alone. 

Turning and eyeing Scylla’s disheveled appearance, Willa waved her to one of the empty chairs around the table. “Took you long enough.”

“Why, I’m just peachy, thanks for asking,” Scylla said  as she sat down.

Willa looked far from amused. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

“I was careful.” Scylla smiled wryly. “I’d be dead otherwise. Not that any of you thought to check.”

“You know very well we couldn’t stay.” Willa leaned a hip against the table. “And the Camarilla?”

“Experimenting.” Scylla could still feel the distortion around the site, the resonance of death corrupted by whatever bastardized Seeds the humans had concocted. “Turning our bombs against us.” 

“Our intelligence indicates Fort Salem is researching a new weapon, as well.” 

“Good for them.”

“Involving my daughter.”

Scylla used whatever energy she had left to keep herself from reacting. Raelle was still very much a sore spot for them both, no matter how much Scylla tried to put Raelle behind her. It was a constant source of heartache that had flared up like a livewire when she saw Raelle again up close and felt her touch, however fleeting.

“I see.” Hesitating, she took a deep breath and added against her better judgment: “She was there. Yesterday.” 

Willa lowered herself into her own seat, brow wrinkling before it smoothed out in a neutral expression. “How was she?”

Beautiful, Scylla thought. Fierce. Still so full of good and light, despite everything. “As well as can be expected,” Scylla said.   

“Did she say anything?”

“She didn’t say anything at all.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. 

Willa said nothing as she absently shuffled papers on the table, poorly hiding that Raelle’s rejection was still an open wound for her as it was for Scylla. “We need to bring that girl ‘round.”

Scylla shook her head. “How? She wants nothing to do with us.” And with good reason, her mind whispered.

“Go to her.”

A humorless laugh escaped from Scylla. “What, am I supposed to just waltz back into Fort Salem and convince her?”

“Yes,” Willa said simply.

Scylla stared at Willa for several long, unbelieving moments. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a heart attack.” Willa held out her palm and whispered a few words until a piece of parchment appeared. “As part of our new Accord with Alder, we’ll teach them some of our Work.”

She placed the document on the table and slid it toward Scylla, who could barely read its text through the crimson haze that filled her vision. But she definitely could see the glow of Willa’s signature as well as Alder’s. Incensed, Scylla snatched it up and tore it in half, throwing it back at Willa.

“Have you lost your mind?” Heat skyrocketed in her chest, faster than mercury on a scorching day. “They killed my parents and Goddess knows how many others. Nearly killed you.” And Raelle. “Why would we give them our Work?” 

Willa only regarded her with the same, infuriatingly calm expression she always wore. “Are you finished?” The two pieces fused back into one, as if Scylla’s tantrum had never happened. “In exchange, the Army will stop hunting Dodgers. Pardon our cell. They’ll even let you finish your training.”

It sounded too good to be true. Because it probably was. “Don’t you think this is something I should have known about before you signed a deal with the devil?”  

“You know about it now.”

“Unbelievable.” Scylla shoved herself away from the table and stood. “You’ve already burned me with the military. And with Raelle.” Her nostrils flared as she stared Willa down, heart racing, breath harsh. “What makes you think I’d let you do that to me again?” 

“I’m doing what I think is best.”

“And that’s worked out so well for you, right?” Scylla spun around to leave, knowing full well she’d do something she’d regret if she stayed any longer. Made it halfway to the door when she felt Willa grasp her wrist in a tight grip. She was half a second away from throwing wind, burning one last bridge that would forever strand her into an existence of hiding.

But she stopped short when she saw the flash of pain in Willa’s blue eyes. “Please.” Willa’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I need my daughter back.” She scanned Scylla’s face, searching for something Scylla wasn’t even sure she could give. “You do too.”

“I don’t need anyone,” Scylla spat back, snapping her hand away. She almost believed the lie. 

Willa’s arms fell to her sides. “Then think about the good that’s still left to do. That we could all do. Together. As a family.” 

Her gaze was as piercing as Raelle’s, blinding like the sky on a cloudless day. 

Scylla, eyes stinging, had to look away. 

***

Holding onto the good wasn’t easy when the best part of you was gone.

The crowd inside the train station bustled around the double-sided bench where Scylla sat. The din of conversations and rolling luggage echoed inside the cavernous atrium and its arched glass ceilings. People came and went, with no clue about the war being waged; sheeple unaware of the bloodthirsty wolves in their flock. A small part of Scylla pitied them for their blissful ignorance and mundane lives. But that was eclipsed by a sadness so intense it left Scylla breathless. Because she would never have what they had. 

She clenched her fists in her lap, allowing herself a fleeting moment to daydream about what it would be like to leave all the death and destruction behind. Just blend into the crowd and disappear. She could do it and be free, for a while, before being hunted down by the Army or the Spree or the Camarilla. Go out in a foolish blaze of glory. Scylla chuckled to herself. That plan was hot garbage and she knew it. What was it she had said to Raelle their first night together? It’d be winning by losing. It felt like so many years ago.

Scylla was so lost in her dark thoughts that she didn’t even notice when someone sat behind her on the opposite side of the bench. A voice, gruff and familiar, interrupted Scylla’s downward spiral.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” Anacostia Quartermaine said, as if she was mundanely reciting the weather forecast printed in the newspaper she unfolded.

Anacostia always seemed to show up when Scylla least expected it. At first, it was unsettling, despite their pact to work together and keep each other’s secrets. Sometimes she wondered if Anacostia somehow placed a tracker on her. But over the past few weeks, Scylla found the surprise appearances to be comforting. Anacostia, whether she intended it or not, often popped up when Scylla needed her most. 

“Depends on what you think I’m doing,” Scylla said.

“Running.” Anacostia opened the paper. It crinkled as she spread it out wide between both hands.

Anacostia also had an uncanny ability to read Scylla’s moods, not that she would give Anacostia the pleasure of her admitting it outloud.

“Strange,” Scylla deflected, looking down at her lap in surprise, “Pretty sure I’m sitting.” She didn’t have to see Anacostia to know she was rolling her eyes.

“Don’t bullshit me, Ramshorn.” Anacostia turned a page. “I need to know if you’re still in.”

The way over is under. The way out is in.

“I gave you my word,” Scylla said.

“The word of a Dodger.”

Scylla turned her head slightly. “The word of someone who hates our enemies as much as you.” She could just make out the side of Anacostia’s stern profile. “I won’t stop until the Camarilla pay for what they’ve done.” She wouldn’t stop until she avenged Raelle.

“Good.” Anacostia stood abruptly, re-folding the paper back up and leaving it on her seat. “Interesting article about the Cession. Might be of interest.”

With that, Anacostia disappeared as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Scylla mildly bewildered. She waited a few beats before she got up to leave, walking to the other side of the bench to pick up the discarded periodical. She flipped through it, scanning the black-and-white type until she found a page with a headline about the Cession. A lone sigil adroned a corner.

She traced it with her pinky, gasping as her mind flashed to… Fort Salem. Or, more specifically, its infirmary. From Anacostia’s perspective, she moved through the medical ward, nodding to Colonel Wick, toward two beds near the back. In one was High and Mighty herself, Abigail Bellweather, scowling at the Fixers surrounding her. Scylla sucked in a sharp breath. Sitting upright in another was the one person Scylla thought she’d lost forever, a sheepish grin on her tired, but beautiful face. 

Scylla’s heart stopped and she dropped the paper. She stared at it on the ground, cheeks wet as she let out a laugh that came out as a garbled sob. 

Raelle was alive.

***

This would all end badly.

Icy tendrils of dread spread through Scylla as Willa drove a beat-up blue minivan through Fort Salem’s back roads, bringing them closer and closer to what she was sure was potential doom. The military base’s grounds were kept as meticulously pristine as ever. Grass neatly cut. Trees pruned. Flowers tended. A beautiful disguise that concealed a dark underbelly of slavery, oppression, and death. Scylla despised it.

“And you’re sure they won’t arrest us on the spot?” Cassidy asked from the back seat, knee fidgeting. The tension in the cabin was heavy among the five women in the van. Scylla kept her gaze firmly trained outside the passenger-side window, not wanting to spark yet another argument with Willa, especially in front of the others. She could just make out the outline of her old barracks in the distance.

Willa glanced at Cassidy through the rear-view mirror. “We’ve been over this, girl.” She pulled the steering wheel to the right, turning the van down a road that would take them to the officers’ quarters. “There are consequences for breaking an Accord. Even for someone like Alder.”

They fell silent once again, each of them lost in their own anxieties. After a short eternity, they pulled up to the side entrance of a multi-story brick building where a number of officers waited at ease, hands interlocked behind their backs: Alder and her Biddies, Petra Bellweather, Nessa Clary, and Anacostia.

No one moved a muscle when Willa finally parked and turned off the van, the old engine ticking faintly. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Scylla broke the silence. 

Willa pulled the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go, ladies,” Willa said, as if she hadn’t heard Scylla at all. 

Shaking her head, Scylla stepped outside and was immediately hit with the energy that permeated throughout the fort. She had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by the power of a Witch’s Place. It thrummed deep inside her bones; one of the few good things about Fort Salem that Scylla hadn’t even realized she missed. She knew the others felt it too, judging by the way their mouths fell open in awe.

Taking the lead, Willa approached Alder, who stood tall and imposing, full arrogance on display, as always. 

 “Generals.” Willa nodded once at Alder, Clary, and Bellweather, who tracked Willa’s every move. 

Alder inclined her head forward slightly. “Specialist.” Neither woman moved to shake the other’s hands. 

“With all due respect, General, I’m no soldier,” Willa said. “Collar’s just fine. Or, Willa, if you prefer.”

The Biddies chittered in displeasure, tongues clicking in a way that sent a shiver down Scylla’s spine. 

“Once a soldier, always a soldier, Specialist,” Alder spat out, blue eyes hard as she circled the other women, not bothering to hide her judgment as she wordlessly dressed them down. “That goes for all of you.” She paused in front of Scylla, who stared straight back at Alder. Scylla refused to cower before her, even as sensory memory brought back the searing pain she once endured at Alder’s hands. 

Alder returned to her original position in front of Willa, who wore a serene smile on her face despite Alder’s clear disrespect. “While you are our… guests… I expect you to conduct yourself in a manner befitting a soldier.”

A sarcastic remark threatened to fly out of Scylla’s mouth, but she managed to hold back thanks to the look Anacostia threw her way. Don’t, her subtle eyebrow twitch warned. Squeezing her tongue between her teeth, Scylla bit back the retort that would no doubt have gotten her liquefied. It wasn’t worth it.

“Sergeant Quartermaine will escort you to your assignments,” Alder continued. “Except you, Specialist. The generals and I have much to discuss with you.”

“Understood.” Willa turned to look at her team, attempting to project an aura of calm that failed to stop the panic that spiked in Scylla’s chest, before she trailed behind Alder, Bellweather, and Clary. No matter how angry she was at Willa, and despite their complicated history, a part of Scylla still worried about her safety. If not for herself, then for Raelle.

“Ramshorn, Freeman, Jackson, Beatrix ” Anacostia barked out suddenly. “Follow me.”

“H-How do you know our names?” Cassidy asked, unnerved.

“We know everything, Freeman,” Anacostia said. “And see everything. Best keep that in mind at all times.” She executed a sharp about-face, not even bothering to check that they were following.

Scylla couldn’t stop herself. “And yet, against all odds, the Spree still managed to infiltrate the base,” she said as she caught up to the retreating sergeant. 

Anacostia threw daggers at Scylla with her eyes. “And the reason you’re here is to ensure that never happens again. Otherwise, there’d be a prison cell just waiting to welcome you back, Ramshorn.”

Scylla only smirked back as they entered the barracks, following Anacostia through empty hallways and into an unoccupied locker room. 

“You’ll need to get changed.” Anacostia pointed to four open lockers. Fresh uniforms hung inside.

“Didn’t you hear Willa?” Scylla eyed the military garb with disdain. “We’re not soldiers.”

“No,” Anacostia conceded. “But while you’re here, you have to be as discreet as possible. Hide in plain sight. Isn’t that what the Spree do best?” She at least had the decency to give them some privacy, leaving to stand guard at the door.

Cassidy let out a sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Despite tremors in her hands, Scylla managed to dress quickly and efficiently, removing her clothes, slipping on a black t-shirt, tucking it into a pair of black trousers, and fastening her belt. After lacing up her boots and zipping up the gray uniform jacket, Scylla paused, catching her reflection in a nearby mirror. It was surreal, to say the least; a myriad of what-ifs swirling in Scylla’s mind, heady and potent.

It didn’t take long for the others to finish and, before long, they were once again out in the hall, transformed into fresh-faced cadets ready to throw their lives away. Anacostia was no longer alone. Three other officers had joined her side.

“Ramshorn, you’re with me,” Anacostia said.

“Wait.” Cassidy grabbed Scylla’s hand, panic evident in her shaky voice. “You’re separating us?”

“From this point forward, you four don’t know each other,” Anacostia explained, almost kindly. “It’s safer that way.”

Squeezing Cassidy’s hand, Scylla gave her what she hoped was a comforting smile, even as fear gripped at her own chest. She silently followed Anacostia, trepidation growing with each step. They left the building and began crossing across the grounds. The sun was too bright, the air too hot, the flora too sweet. A wave of nausea swept through Scylla as her eyes watered, blurring her vision. 

“It’ll be okay,” Anacostia said once they were alone, her voice low.

“I thought we both agreed not to lie to each other,” Scylla said with a sad smile, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks. “But, thank you.”

Walking side-by-side, they passed cadets, enlisted soldiers, and officers. No one paid them any mind. For all they knew, Scylla was just another private on a walk with her drill sergeant.

Anacostia gave her a sidelong glance. “Only a handful of people know about what happened to you. They’ve taken a vow of silence, as have those who’ll work with you.”

“All of them?”

Anacostia nodded.

Scylla let that revelation, and its implications, sink in. “And the rest?”

“The Necros were told you’ve been on an extended furlough.” Anacostia led them toward the War College campus. “A dispensation for personal issues is more common than you might think.” 

So the cover was set. It gave Scylla some peace of mind, but not much as she broached the next question. “And who am I training?”

“One or two of our top units, under my supervision and another officer.” They entered the building that included the War College rough room. They bypassed the main training hall, and proceeded toward a smaller training room. It was a basic room, with a few black mats laid out on the vinyl floor. Anacostia whispered a few words that turned its few windows opaque. 

“They’ll be here soon,” Anacostia said, a strange expression passing along her features. If Scylla didn’t know any better, she would have called it pity.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Scylla asked, every instinct telling her to run as far as she possibly could. But there was no turning back now. The door opened behind her, bootsteps shuffling inside.

And Scylla felt her before she even saw her. 

“Welcome, ladies,” Anacostia greeted, pointedly ignoring Scylla’s death glare. 

Time seemed to stop. As if moving in slow motion, Scylla turned and watched as three units filed into the room with Izadora at the head, all eyes watching her with a mixture of curiosity, disdain, and suspicion. 

But all Scylla could see was Raelle. 

Whose lips parted in surprise, blue eyes widening in shock that mirrored Scylla’s own. 

Heart firmly pulsing in her throat, Scylla knew this wasn’t just going to end badly. It would be a complete disaster. 

[syntheticpoetry]

And the World Spins Madly On, Chapter 12

Summary:  A few weeks after visiting Kurt in New York and confessing to cheating Blaine is attacked and left for dead, resulting in a traumatic brain injury. Burt finds him on his way home from work and calls Kurt to deliver the news. How will Kurt help Blaine pick up the broken pieces when his own heart is still so conflicted?

And The World Spins Madly On (ff.net link if you’d like to leave a review!)

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11

The entirety of the two-and-a-half-hour movie passed by in a hazy blur.  If Kurt was being honest, he did not think it possible that any of them had been able to pay attention to any of the details at all.  They had simply taken to their collective silence and continued through the motions only to maintain some pretense of normalcy.  Blaine had remained asleep, nuzzled securely against Kurt’s chest, through the entire film, oblivious to the stolen glances that Kurt was pretending not to notice.  On more than one occasion he caught Cooper’s gaze lingering for longer than the conspicuous number of seconds that everyone else felt was customary, his expression completely indiscernible.  As the end credits began to scroll across the screen, they remained in silence.  No one seemed to want to make the first move.  After about a minute of background music, Cooper finally spoke.

“Kurt, let me help you get him to bed?”

Kurt recognized that tone, the overly protective ‘we need to talk’ voice, and picked apart the unspoken request between his words.  He had bought himself over two hours to sift through the tidal wave of thoughts swirling around his mind and still did not feel ready for the conversation, but he nodded.  Cooper crossed the room and knelt down, trying to figure out the easiest way to go about untangling Blaine’s arms from Kurt’s torso to lift him up.  As Kurt leaned forward he felt Blaine’s embrace tighten around him and looked down to see his face contorted with worry even though he remained fast asleep.

“Let me see if I can talk him into moving,” Kurt whispered and ran a hand along the length of one of Blaine’s arms.  He leaned down to speak quietly in Blaine’s ear, continuing to rub his arm in an attempt to gently rouse him.  “Blaine, time for bed.”  Blaine scrunched up his face and turned it inwards to bury it in Kurt’s shirt, his breath warm and tranquil as it seeped in through the material against his skin.  “Come on, I know you’re tired,” Kurt pressed a kiss to the top of his head and took to trying to wriggle his fingers beneath Blaine’s arms to break his hold.

“No, don’t go,” Blaine pleaded, his somnolent voice muffled as he spoke into Kurt’s chest.

“We’re going together,” Kurt replied before kissing his head again.  The sea of prickly hair growing in made his lips tingle as they made contact.  “Come on, this can’t be comfortable for you.  Let’s go lie down, Cooper’s going to help.”

“Come on, buddy,” Cooper took his opportunity to slip his arm around Blaine’s torso after Kurt had managed to lift his arms to create a wide enough space.  Blaine instinctively wrapped his arms around Cooper’s neck and whined quietly in protest, but kept his eyes closed.  In one swift motion Cooper lifted him up and carefully carried him to the guest room.  Kurt remained on the couch momentarily, rotating his shoulders to will away the numbness that had set in from remaining motionless in the same position for such an extended period of time while Finn finally shuffled over to the DVD player to remove the disc.  As Kurt was just getting ready to stand up and follow Cooper out the sound of his father clearing his throat earned his attention instead.

“Kurt, if you ever wanna talk.  About any of, you know, this stuff going on,” Burt leaned forward, clasping his hands together.  He did not know when it had happened over the course of the last month, but Kurt thought he somehow looked older now.  Maybe it was just exhaustion.  They were all feeling it.  He had been shocked to see his own reflection in the mirror earlier after his call with Isabelle, his face almost unrecognizable beneath the raw layer of puffy, pallid skin.

“I know, dad,” Kurt pressed his palms against his knees and, with great effort, managed to peel himself off of the couch.  His back had never ached so much.

“So, are you two—” Burt had been interrupted when Carole swatted his arm gently.  “What? I’m just asking!”

Kurt offered a feeble, half-hearted smile.  “It’s… complicated.  I really would rather just leave it at that right now.  I’m gonna go see if Cooper needs any help.”  He all but ran from the room to avoid anyone else’s response, knowing full well he needed to save his energy for the interrogation he was bound to be receiving from Cooper momentarily.  He entered the guest room to discover Cooper in an unsuccessful attempt to unhook Blaine’s arms from around his neck and let out a quiet chuckle.  “He did this a lot during sleepovers, here.”

Kurt approached them and began pressing his fingers into the back of Blaine’s hands, working his way up his arms and proceeded to rub small, delicate circles into his shoulders.  Blaine’s grip around Cooper’s neck slackened and Kurt nodded towards one of the pillows, keeping his fingers busy working into the muscles along Blaine’s neck and upper arms, “Grab that, we’ll do a swap.” Cooper obeyed the command and after another minute of Kurt’s physical coaxing they had managed to slip the pillow between Blaine’s arms.  He embraced it tightly and buried his face away from view.

“He should be okay for a little while, usually takes him at least an hour before he realizes it’s not an actual person,” Kurt rotated his shoulders again before lacing his fingers together behind his back to hold his arms into a stretch.

“You said this used to happen a lot?” Cooper watched Blaine, his expression forlorn.

“Yeah,” Kurt brought his arms forward again and folded them across his chest, observing Blaine snore softly against the pillow.  “After everything he said today about your dad, I feel like it all makes more sense now when I look back.”

“What does?” Cooper pulled the blanket up around Blaine to tuck him in, pausing to press down on the pillow near his nose and mouth as though he was paranoid Blaine might suffocate himself if he kept his face buried long enough.  Blaine crinkled his nose in response to the action and proceeded to bury his face deeper into the pillow instead.  

“The way he clings for affection like that, for one.  How he’s always looking for everyone’s approval,” Kurt sat down at the foot of the bed, keeping a fair amount of distance between him and Cooper.  “I guess a lot of the way he’s acted and responded to things.  I just never put much thought into it until now.  I wish he’d have said something sooner.”

“He’s always held onto his secrets, even from me if he could help it,” Cooper finally tore his eyes away from Blaine to face Kurt.  Kurt made a conscious effort not to squirm as they sat in silence.  After a pregnant pause, Cooper added, “He told me about what happened between you two.  The reason you guys broke up, I mean.”

“Before or after he became incapable of filtering his thoughts?” Kurt asked, his tone forcing the question to sound unintentionally bitter.

“After,” Cooper shook his head and sighed.  “That first night alone I had with him in the hospital after he woke up.  He could barely speak, but he just wouldn’t stop.  He thought he imagined you being there when he woke up, kept saying it was impossible that you were actually there.” Kurt kept silent and took to watching Blaine sleep again in order to avoid having to face Cooper.  “I didn’t know what to do.  Didn’t know how to calm him down.  When I tried to tell him he wasn’t imagining it he just told me I was lying.  He was getting so worked up, they had to sedate him.  Some small part of me thought maybe he was over exaggerating how badly things ended between you two if you were sitting there beside me, looking at him the way you did, when he was saying you weren’t supposed to be.  Like maybe he was just beating himself up like he always does.”

“And the other part?” Kurt asked robotically.  A dull ache surfaced from the pit of his chest as his mind wandered askew towards the scene Cooper had described.  He remembered the laborious effort Blaine had overexerted himself with just to speak a few simple words, let alone complete sentences.  He also remembered the look on Blaine’s face when he had almost kissed his cheek as a force of habit and an insidious thought crawled into existence from his subconscious.  ‘Was it my fault for setting him off like that?’

“The other part saw how conflicted you were.  Noticed how it seemed like you were holding yourself back sometimes when you were around him.  Like you were trying to remind yourself not to get too close.” Kurt shifted his eyes quickly in Cooper’s direction to discover he also had been watching Blaine again as he spoke.  Neither of them could bear to face each other.  In his brief glance, Kurt could not help but notice the worry lines decorating Cooper’s forehead as though they had become a permanent fixture.  Another uncomfortable silence blanketed them again before Cooper asked, “Was it as bad as he made it out to be, Kurt?”

“Yes,” Kurt’s reply came as a strained whisper.  He cleared his throat quietly in an effort to lend some semblance of strength to his voice. “After he told me, I just tried to completely ignore him.  He would call and call and call, I wouldn’t answer.  I finally sent him a text telling him to leave me alone, that I didn’t care how sorry he was and I didn’t want to hear from him anymore.  So he stopped.  My dad would try to ask what happened and I just didn’t want to deal with it, so I told him and everyone else not to talk to me about him.  That we broke up and that was that.  I tried to just move on with my life in New York and completely cut him out.”

“So what’s going on with you two now? Because the way it looks to me, something’s changed.  What was going on back there?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” Kurt admitted truthfully.  “It’s been confusing for me ever since I got here.  I’m just trying to figure it out as I go, Coop,” He scooted closer to the two of them and brushed his fingertips over Blaine’s bicep.  Blaine immediately leaned into the touch, shifting his head to rest sideways on the pillow and continued to breathe quietly into the space between them.  

“Kurt, if it’s confusing for you imagine how confusing it must be for him,” Cooper replied, his tone serious and concerned. “He can’t process things the way he used to anymore.  You’ve seen that.  And it’s not like I think you’re taking advantage of that, but I’m just,” Cooper stood up and crossed the room, his hands on his hips. “I’m just worried.”

“I understand,” Kurt twisted around to face him, taking care not to wake Blaine.  “I’m not trying to hurt him, Cooper.”

“I’m not worried about you intentionally doing it, Kurt.  I’m worried he gets his hopes up while you’re figuring things out.  I’m worried he gets too attached too quickly because he can’t understand what’s happening and it doesn’t end up working out between you two again.  I see how good you are with him, and I’m worried I’m not gonna be able to step in and take over if I have to pick up the pieces.” Cooper paced around the room, his eyes darting everywhere but the bed.  Kurt could not help but compare him to Blaine, the way he could never keep still when his nerves had surmounted past the point of manageability and he needed to resort to walking himself into a rut in the ground.  

“So what are you asking of me?”

“I don’t know,” Cooper stopped and studied the wall before turning to meet his gaze. “Just be careful with him.  And don’t follow through with this if you’re just reacting out of pity.”

“I still love him,” Kurt replied quietly.

“Anyone with eyes has been able to see that, Kurt,” Cooper offered him a tired smile that did not quite reach his eyes.  

“I’m trying to forgive him.  Trying to rationalize everything that happened, trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe it was partly my fault too.  I know I was trying to actively keep him out of my life after we broke up, but imagining him completely gone from the world? Coop, it killed me to think it was a possibility that I would never get to see or talk to him again.  It just— It put a lot of things into perspective for me.” Kurt swallowed hard while his heart continued to palpitate frantically.  It had been nearly a month since Blaine had woken up from his coma, but the memories of uncertainty as he watched him motionlessly clinging to life for a week straight still elicited the same feelings of anxiety.  He slid his hand across the comforter and placed it atop Blaine’s, trying to tether himself back down towards equilibrium again.  Blaine’s fingers twitched against the pillow.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Cooper replied.  Kurt tilted his head quizzically and he continued, “I only have his side of things, and even that has been pretty choppy.  Can you tell me your side of what happened?”

Kurt opened his mouth and closed it again.  After a moment of watching Blaine continue to sleep he responded, “Can we step outside? I could use some air.  I’ll ask my dad to keep an eye on him, I’m sure he won’t mind.”  Cooper nodded and left the room after they agreed to meet outside.  Kurt leaned over and kissed Blaine’s cheek, breathing in the scent of raspberries from their bath earlier, before rummaging through the dresser drawers.  He pulled out a navy blue hooded pullover sweatshirt and smiled as his eyes fell upon the image imprinted on the front of it.  He ran his fingers fondly over the large Dalton logo before pulling it over his head and venturing off to find his father.  Burt and Carole were still in the living room with Finn.  Without the background noise of the movie it became completely obvious what their conversation must have entailed when the three of them abruptly stopped speaking once Kurt had entered the room.

“Very inconspicuous,” Kurt rolled his eyes.  “Dad, can you keep an eye on Blaine? Cooper and I are just gonna go chat in the backyard for a little while.”

“Sure, bud,” Burt replied and Kurt left to meet Cooper.  

Though it was late November, it had been a comfortable enough night to venture out in the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Blaine.  Kurt pulled out a chair at the garden table and took the seat across from Cooper.  He leaned back and brought one knee up close to his chest, hooking his arms around him so he could hold it steady and rest his chin atop it.  Cooper leaned forward with his hands folded together on the table, waiting patiently.  Kurt sifted through his memory of the chain of events leading up to that horrible night back in early October, having re-examined some things with new eyes within the last few weeks.

“I guess I should start with before I moved to New York,” he finally settled on.  “I don’t know if he talked to you at all about anything that happened before that?”

“Just that he was going to miss you when you left, nothing too much deeper than that,” Cooper replied.

“We got into a big fight a little while before I was supposed to leave.  We were both sort of distant with each other, not really communicating.  He accused me of cheating on him because I was texting someone, but we cleared it all up.  I set us up to talk to our guidance counselor afterwards though because I felt like he still wasn’t telling me everything, and you know how he is— you have to keep pulling teeth and start sifting through all the layers of everything he pretends to be upset about before you actually get to it.”  Cooper nodded and Kurt continued.  “He finally said he had been so distant because he felt like all we ever talked about was New York anymore and he was trying to get used to the idea of a life without me there.  I tried to reassure him, told him we would talk and visit each other all the time, and that seemed like it was enough, you know? Looking back, I guess it was a little overly ambitious and unrealistic to think that way.  But at the time, it just felt like he was blowing it all out of proportion and worrying over a problem that I didn’t think existed between us.  And then he tried to bring it up again closer to my graduation, wanted to talk about the fact that we were going to be in a long distance relationship, that it was going to be hard and we would have to put the work in if we wanted to make sure we would stay together.  I didn’t want to hear it.  In my head, we were perfectly fine.  I loved him and he loved me, and so I figured that was all there was to it.  I just kept… shutting him down and writing it off every single time he wanted to talk about it because I didn’t see any issues with us.”

Cooper remained motionless across from him, leaning back against his seat with his arms folded against his chest.  When he offered no comments, Kurt continued.  “I bombed my NYADA audition and that’s when he really encouraged me to go to New York.  Told me I didn’t belong in Ohio, that I was bigger than this place and it didn’t matter that I didn’t get into my dream school because I could find somethingto do there.  I asked him about us, what would happen, and he told me we would be fine.  That he would be there next year and it was my time to leave because it was killing him to see me unhappy here.  So, I left.  And, for lack of a better phrase, I got swept up in all of it.  We would Skype together and talk from time to time, but I was so caught up in everything going on once I started working at Vogue that I didn’t really notice how it was affecting him.  I,” Kurt swallowed and blinked rapidly, sending a few stray tears careening down his face.  “I wasn’t doing it on purpose at first, I was just… busy.  And he would just keep calling or texting to the point where I couldn’t keep up and I ended up missing calls and texting him back later and later.  Then when he was running for student president, I purposely ignored his call.  I was at a work thing and completely forgot about the election, I figured he was calling me again just because so... I ignored it.  From there it just got worse.  Again, not intentionally, but it just got a lot worse.  I was busier than ever, we barely had time to talk and whenever we could get on the phone with each other I kept getting interrupted and had to go again.”

“Is this around the time he surprised you in New York?” Cooper asked when Kurt had paused for another moment to collect himself again.

“Yeah.  After our last call I hadn’t been expecting him for another two weeks.  He showed up the next day.  And I just knewsomething was off.  Something felt different.  But when I asked him about it he just told me it had been a long flight and everything was fine, so I didn’t push it.  We went out with Finn and Rachel to a piano bar and Blaine decided to perform, but he just… broke down as the song went on.  We went for a walk afterwards and that’s when he told me he had hooked up with someone because he was lonely and I just shut down after that.  I didn’t want to hear a word he said.  I couldn’t look at him the same way.  I just kept thinking I had all of these chances to cheat on him and I didn’t because I believed in us.  Yeah, I had things to keep my mind occupied, but so did he, didn’t he?  It wasn’t my fault he created his entire world around me and then told me to go off and live my life.”

Kurt roughly pressed his palms against his eyes and sniffled quietly.  When he dropped his hands again he saw Cooper chewing on his thumbnail, staring at the glass garden tabletop.  Neither of them spoke until the momentary pause transformed into an awkward silence that made Kurt squirm uncomfortably in his seat.  He gave in and was the first to break it.  “What are you thinking?”

Cooper lifted his gaze as though he was just noticing Kurt was sitting across from him and pulled his thumb away from his mouth.  “Just that I’m sorry that things got so fucked up between you guys.”

“Yeah, well, like I said after everything he’s said today it’s easier to look back now and recognize all of the little things I chose to just ignore or completely write off because I had no idea where he was coming from,” Kurt shrugged.

“Still,” Cooper said seriously.  “Him letting his pride get in the way of being able to talk to you or me and letting things build up until they inevitably explode doesn’t exactly mean he gets a free pass.”

“I don’t think it’s pride that makes him act that way,” Kurt sat up straighter and placed his hands beneath his thighs.  Though it was not the typical chilly Ohio night for the time of year, his hands were beginning to feel clumsy and stiff.  “I think he’s ashamed.  I’m sorry to say this, cause I know it’s your father and all, but that asshole is a fucking bully and it’s pretty obvious that’s where a lot of Blaine’s insecurities stem from.”

“No offense taken there,” Cooper held up his hands.  “I was just as shocked as you were today to hear the full extent of everything.”

“I mean, I knew he and Blaine didn’t exactly get along, he’s always only hinted at that and avoided the subject of him altogether at all costs most of the time, but after everything he said today it was a moment for me where the picture came into focus just a little bit clearer.  I’ve just been going back and overanalyzing every little thing now.  Everything he’s said, every time I thought he was being overly clingy or blowing things out of proportion.  I don’t know if he necessarily realizes it, but maybe seeing that psychiatrist will do some good.  So yeah, while I’m starting to see that maybe what happened between us was also partly my fault I also don’t believe it was entirely his fault because I would also have a pretty fucked up view of the world if my dad treated me anything like the way your dad has treated him.” Kurt pulled his hands out from beneath his thighs and took to fiddling with the drawstrings of the hood.  

“I just can’t believe I never noticed it,” Cooper sighed heavily.  “And I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me.  He opened up so much more after he tried to kill himself, but couldn’t tell me about—” Cooper stopped abruptly, clearly aware of the fact that the secret had remained between him and Blaine up until now, and tried to backtrack.  But Kurt had interrupted him, his voice a fleeting whisper amongst the crickets in the empty night, “Relax, I know about it.  He told me last night.  And he actuallytold me, it wasn’t just another time where he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.”

Cooper’s shoulders slumped and he leaned his head back against the mesh backing of the chair.  “He begged me not to tell our parents.  Said that he made a mistake and it would never happen again.  I wanted to tell them, make them see the consequences of what they did to him, but he looked so terrified, I just couldn’t.  He barely trusted me, if I betrayed that trust, I thought he’d never let me back in again.”

“How did they never find out if he was a minor though?” Kurt asked.  

“I told them I was his father at the hospital,” Cooper responded quietly.  

“And that worked?” Kurt stared at him incredulously.

“You’ve seen how small he is now, right? He was even worse then, looked so young and thin and sick,” Cooper paused and exhaled sharply.  “There’s a ten year age difference between us, so I must have looked the part enough because they didn’t question it.”

“So that’s it? They just let you guys go?”

“Not exactly, they asked me if I wanted to have him committed to inpatient for a few days so they could monitor his behaviour,” Cooper had taken to staring up at the endless amounts of stars scattered across the clear sky.  Kurt continued to watch him, hugging his knees tightly against his chest as though it would do anything to stop the ache in his heart as he pictured Blaine locked away in a padded room.  “God, the look on his face when he heard that.  He was terrified, Iwas fucking terrified, but I couldn’t do that to him.  So they did an evaluation on him in the emergency department that took all night instead and then we were free to go.”

“Your parents never noticed or said anything about you guys being gone for so long?” Kurt had honestly been afraid to know the answer as the question left his lips.

“Our mother did,” Cooper’s smile was faint as the sadness seeped into his words.  “So we lied.  Said I took him out to Columbus to meet up with some of my old friends and I was too tired to drive back so we stayed the night.  She didn’t question it.”

“Do you regret it?” Kurt asked quietly.

“For a while, I did,” Cooper shifted and sat up straight again, tearing his eyes away from the sky and focused on Kurt again.  “I was so afraid I made the wrong choice, was so scared to leave him alone in case he tried to do it again.  But he started letting me in more and more, and I thought maybe I did do the right thing by trying to help instead of push him into the hands of some stranger that he would not have been ready for.  Would I make the same decision now though? I honestly don’t know.  Maybe he would have learned how to process everything that’s happened with professional help when I clearly was not qualified.”

“He worships you, you know,” Kurt smiled weakly.  “I think he definitely gets jealous sometimes, but I know he thinks very highly of you.”

“I shouldn’t have left again,” Cooper stated.  “If I stayed, maybe I would have noticed more.  Maybe he would have told—”

“You know he would have resented that,” Kurt interrupted him sternly.  “He would have felt like he was holding you back and blamed himself for you giving up your dream.”

“I know you’re right,” Cooper sighed heavily again, the familiar trend of the evening. “But still.”

“I know,” Kurt unhooked his arms from around his knees and sluggishly dropped his feet to the ground.  “You know, I’m glad we had this conversation.  I was really dreading it back inside when you asked to help bring him to bed because I thought you were going to start laying into me about everything.  I can see why he likes to talk to you about the heavy stuff.”

“Like I said, I’ve seen how good you are with him.  I’m not trying to come between that, but you see where I’m coming from with being worried, don’t you?”

“I do,” Kurt propped his elbows onto the table and leaned forward to rest his chin atop his clasped hands.  “I can’t promise you everything is going to work out between us, but I can promise I will always be here for him.  For both of you.  If this has shown me anything, it’s that I can’t just walk away.  Whatever happens he’s always going to be my best friend.”

Cooper surveyed him carefully before nodding once.  “It’s getting late; we should probably go relieve your dad.”

Kurt perked up as Cooper stood. “Can I stay with him again tonight?”

“You don’t need to ask my permission, Kurt.  Of course you can.  You mind if I take your bed then?”

“Not at all,” Kurt replied.  When they walked back inside Carole and Finn had relocated to the kitchen and were conversing quietly.  They both looked up and smiled as Kurt was sliding the screen door closed behind themselves.

“Surprised you guys are still up,” Cooper commented.

“Gossip never sleeps,” Kurt quipped, earning an eye roll from Finn.

“We’re not talking about you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Finn replied.

“Then who?” Kurt eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s— it’s private,” Finn stammered out.

“Ah,” Kurt smiled, his instincts leading him to believe he had been talking to his mom about Rachel. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it then. Goodnight!” He waved his hand in a sort of dramatic salute before heading towards the guest room.  As he drew near the door, the sound of his father’s voice caused him to lighten his footsteps and creep up quietly, melding against the wall beside the open door frame so he could listen.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Kurt could hear the way his father’s voice wavered, the strain and the pain beneath his words.  He took a chance and tilted his head towards the frame for a quick peek inside.  Burt’s back was to the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed speaking to Blaine, who appeared to still be asleep in the exact position Kurt and Cooper had left him in.  “You didn’t deserve any of this.  I wish I had gotten to you sooner, maybe things would have turned out differently.  Maybe you wouldn’t have—”

When the quiet sob wracked his father’s body like a steam roller, cutting off his voice and reducing him to rubble, Kurt could not stand idly by any longer.  He took a step into the room and slid a hand onto Burt’s shoulder, “Dad, you can’t go down that road.”

“It was rightoutside the shop, what if I could have stopped it?” Burt placed his hand on top of Kurt’s, doing nothing to stop the steady stream of tears.  He had not lost his composure like this since he had dropped Kurt off at the airport to leave for New York.

“Stop it,” Kurt said sternly.  “Dad, please.  It’s no one’s fault but the homophobic assholes that did this.  You did everything you could, and it’s probably the only reason he’s even alive.  So please, don’t beat yourself up like this.”

“Sorry, bud.  You’re right, I know you’re right,” Burt stood up and before Kurt knew it he was wrapped up in the tightest embrace he could ever remember his father giving him since his mother had passed away.  “Everything go okay with Cooper?”

“Yeah, dad.  It was a good talk,” They lingered in the embrace silently for a few seconds before Kurt let his head fall onto Burt’s shoulder. “How was he?”

“Quiet, hasn’t moved,” Burt patted Kurt’s back lightly and they broke apart finally.  

“Good, maybe he’ll be able to sleep through the night for once,” Kurt replied, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.  As if on cue, Blaine shoved the pillow away and sent it careening over the side of the bed.  Still asleep, he blindly began groping around the mattress.  Kurt slipped his hand into one of Blaine’s, who surprised him when he forcibly tugged on his arm with more strength than he had anticipated.  Kurt grunted softly as he was pulled towards Blaine’s chest and leaned over to whisper in his ear.  “Let me get changed and I’ll lie down.  No, honey, don’t you pout at me, I’ll be right back, I’m not going far.”

Blaine reluctantly released him and he stood up again, keeping his voice low as he walked with Burt towards the door.  “Thanks for watching him.”

“Of course, bud,” Burt shuffled awkwardly in the doorway.  Kurt raised an eyebrow questioningly.  “I dunno the extent of what happened between you boys, and it’s none of my business if you don’t want it to be—”

“We’ll talk about it, dad, I promise.  Just… not tonight.  I’m afraid I’m a little talked out after today,” Kurt flashed a tired smile and Burt nodded.

“Alright, deal.  Get some sleep,” Burt embraced him one more time and kissed the top of his head.  “Love you.”

“Love you too, dad,” Kurt closed the door quietly behind him on his way out and returned to the dresser to borrow a set of pajamas from Blaine rather than disturb Cooper to retrieve them from his own room.  He hastily changed his clothes and climbed into bed where Blaine immediately nestled against his side and buried his face in the crook of his neck.  Kurt squirmed as his warm breath tickled his skin and sent goosebumps all the way down to his thighs.  “Goodnight, you,” Kurt whispered, but Blaine was already fast asleep again.

____________________________________________________________________

The next few days passed by in a series of good ones and bad ones.  By the time Thursday had finally rolled around, Kurt sat at the kitchen table feeling as though it had taken an entire month to arrive instead of the actual two days that had passed.  Blaine had not been able to sleep through a single night without being plagued by nightmares, so Kurt and Cooper had taken to watching him in shifts.  The previous morning had been an especially bad one.  At 6 a.m. Blaine had jolted awake, panting heavily in the dark, and Kurt had been completely prepared for the routine to reorient and console him until—

“Who are you? W-Where am I?”

Kurt froze with his hands raised in midair as Blaine had recoiled, staring at him in terror.  While Blaine had always had trouble discerning his surroundings, he had never forgotten who Kurt was before.

“Blaine, it’s me—” Kurt had barely been able to find his voice, the words coming out tiny and frightened as he remained still so he would not further startle him.  

“Please, don’t hurt me,” Blaine began sobbing hysterically and proceeded to frantically shift away from Kurt towards the edge of the bed.  Kurt’s heart leapt into his throat as he lunged towards him and wrapped an arm around his torso to keep him from falling off the side of the bed and hitting his head.  Blaine, completely oblivious to the imminent danger Kurt had been saving him from, sobbed harder and began writhing under his grip.  The words came rushing out of his mouth so quickly Kurt was not even sure he was breathing in between.  “Don’t hurt me— Please, just let me go— I won’t tell anyone— Please, I swear I won’t— Please, please don’t hurt me—”

“Blaine, I’m not going to hurt you!” Kurt tried to speak over him without shouting, but Blaine continued to plead and cry loudly.  He curled his fingers tightly over Kurt’s forearm, struggling to break free of his hold.  “Blaine, please,” Kurt’s voice cracked as his own tears of fear and frustration started to overtake. “Sweetheart, it’s me.  It’s Kurt—”

“I don’t know anyone named Kurt!” Blaine shouted and sobbed again, sputtering almost incoherently between giant gasps of air.  “You— You have me confused with someone—”

Kurt could feel the knife being plunged into his chest and the slow twist of the blade, but he choked down whatever sorrow he was feeling and tried to remain calm.  “Blaine, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.  I’m a friend of your brother Cooper, he’s here too.”  That seemed to grab Blaine’s attention.  His grip on Kurt’s arm loosened momentarily before he tightened it again, digging his fingernails into the skin and shook his head frantically.  

“No.  No, you’re trying to trick me—”

“I’m not.  I promise, I’m not.  He’s downstairs, I can call him to come up here right now.  I just have to reach my phone and I can call him.  But you have to promise me you’re not going to move when I let go, I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.  Okay?” Kurt spoke calmly and slowly, hoping his tone was enough to portray his concern.  Blaine still seemed hesitant to believe him.  “I will let you go and I’ll go stand on the other side of the room, I’m not gonna hurt you.  I’ll put the phone on speaker and you can hear that it’s Cooper I’m calling, okay?”

Blaine studied his expression, his eyes moving so frantically it was enough to make Kurt‘s head spin.  After what felt like an eternity, Blaine’s fingers slackened around his arm and Kurt used all of his willpower not to flinch as the pressure was relieved from the tiny little cuts where Blaine’s nails had been buried.  “Show me his number as you’re dialing it,” Blaine stated determinedly, as though he was convinced he would call Kurt on his bluff to actually be calling his brother.  Kurt agreed and tentatively lifted his arm away from Blaine so he could roll over and grab his phone off of the nightstand.  

“Here, I’ll put it on speaker and you can see then I’ll go stand over there if you want me to, okay?” Kurt tried to swallow the lump in his throat as Blaine put as much distance between them as possible and nodded once.  Kurt held the phone between them so Blaine could plainly see that he was punching in Cooper’s number.  Blaine continued to stare at the device, his eyes flitting back and forth between Kurt and the screen as he hugged his arms around himself tightly.

“Kurt, what’s wrong? Is he okay?” Cooper’s worried voice came flying over the speaker after just one ring.

“Can you come upstairs, Coop? He’d really like to see you,” Kurt watched Blaine’s expression change in an instant as he continued to stare at the phone in disbelief.  

“Coming right up,” Cooper responded and hung up.

“See? You’re safe,” Kurt said soothingly despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to break down into tears himself.

“Do I really know you? Why can’t I remember you? Where are we? How did I get here?” Blaine tilted his head up as Kurt put his phone away.  The confusion and absolute panic etched on his face and in his tone of voice was enough for another sharp twist of the imaginary blade in Kurt’s heart right now.  

“I’ll let Cooper explain,” Kurt’s voice wavered as he concentrated on preventing a fresh onslaught of tears.  Within seconds, Cooper came running into the room, panting quietly.  Kurt stood up quickly and left without uttering another word.  

Kurt pushed away the recollection and took a long sip of his coffee as he watched Blaine, sat opposite him at the table, struggle to keep his hand steady enough to lift a spoonful of cereal up to his mouth.  Blaine’s memory had returned shortly after the incident, but it had taken Cooper and Kurt another hour to calm him down once he had learned he could not remember who Kurt was.  Though it had not been his fault, Kurt could not help but feel a slight sting at having been completely wiped away from Blaine’s memory.  He set his mug down just as Blaine had propped elbows up onto the table and brought his chin to rest on his hands, staring daggers at the spoon in the full bowl of cereal.  Behind them Carole had been bustling about, preparing everything for dinner that evening while Finn stood in front of the toaster oven, drumming quietly on the countertop with his fingers.

“Would you like some help?” Kurt shifted his chair closer to him and Blaine continued to scowl at the bowl.  

“I’m useless, I can’t even do this,” Blaine said bitterly before dropping his arms onto the table, his balled fists thudding quietly against the wood.

“Stop that.  What did we talk about yesterday?” Kurt brought his hand to rest over one of his hands and Blaine sighed loudly in response.

“It’s not my fault and will get better if I keep practicing,” Blaine recited mechanically.  

“And?” Kurt prompted.

“And,” Blaine allowed his fist to be opened up so Kurt could lace their fingers together.  “Some days might be better or worse than others and that’s okay.”

“And it’s okay to ask for help,” Kurt finished for him and leaned over to press a kiss onto his cheek.  

“Can you help me, please?” Blaine mumbled, clearly still uncomfortable and embarrassed with the idea.

“Yes, I can,” Kurt lifted their hands together and guided Blaine’s over to the spoon.  He helped to curl his clumsy fingers over the handle and kept his hand over Blaine’s as they lifted it up together.  Blaine leaned forward too quickly and the sudden motion had caused their hands to jerk, spilling cheerios and milk onto the table.  He groaned loudly in frustration.

“Forget it, I’m not hungry,” Blaine tried to pull his hand away but Kurt would not let him.

“Try again, come on,” Kurt prompted gently.  Blaine glared at the mess on the table but agreed.  The second attempt had been more successful.  Kurt continued to help him before releasing his hand for the last few spoonfuls, which Blaine had managed to do, albeit at a much slower pace, on his own.  “See?” Kurt smiled encouragingly and Blaine responded with a timid smile.

“You’re amazing; how could I ever forget you?” Blaine blurted out and proceeded to turn bright red.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I already told you,” Kurt scooted his chair right beside Blaine’s so their thighs were touching and gently pulled him closer to his body.  “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

Blaine immediately melded into his side and let his head fall onto Kurt’s shoulder.  Kurt wrapped an arm around him as he leaned forward to retrieve his mug and continued to drink his coffee.  Finn took a seat at the table across from them and proceeded to squeeze a packet of white icing onto a toaster strudel.  They sat quietly at the table, the rest of breakfast passing by peacefully with the quiet sound of Carole humming in the background as she prepared the turkey.  

Sometime later in the afternoon, Kurt and Blaine had retreated to the living room to watch a repeat of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as the kitchen had begun to get a little too overstimulating to Blaine’s liking.  Finn had taken to laying on his side on the floor in front of them, his head propped up on his hand, and they had been taking turns commenting on the musical performances and random glimpses of people in the crowd.  As the performance for the Cinderella musical was wrapping up, Cooper had walked into the room and dropped down into one of the armchairs, staring at his phone.

“What time are you leaving for the airport?” Kurt picked up on his anxious expression and Blaine tore his gaze away from the television to glance between them.

“Probably in an hour or so.  Flight tracker says everything is running on time, so if I time it right I can get there as it lands,” Cooper placed his phone onto his lap.  The screen was still lit up with the flight information on the airline phone application.

“You hear from them before the flight?” Kurt felt Blaine suddenly tense up against him and rubbed his hand along his upper arm.

“No—”

“Figures,” Blaine mumbled.

“But,” Cooper continued, “Mom left a voicemail sometime in the middle of the night saying she can’t wait to come see us.”

“She did?” Blaine replied doubtfully.  “Can— Can I hear it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Cooper fiddled with his phone and crossed the room to hand it to him once he had navigated to his voicemail inbox.  Blaine immediately tapped on her name and pressed the phone to his ear, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for her voice.  Kurt could not help but feel sad as he watched him.  The hopeful expression mingled with disbelief was apparent all over his face as though he thought Cooper had been lying to him.  He had become so outspoken in voicing his doubts lately, and while Kurt was glad to see him finally verbalizing his concerns more often it still left him feeling melancholy to discover just how much Blaine doubted everyone around him.

“She really sounds like she means it, Coop!” Blaine said excitedly and pulled the phone away from his ear just enough to tap on her name again and replay the message.

“Yeah,” Cooper smiled weakly, but Blaine had been too caught up in his reaction to notice it.  Kurt, however, could also see the fear on Cooper’s face behind the smile.  He knew how nervous Cooper was for the reunion.  They had briefly spoken during the previous nights about the implications and possible effects it would have on Blaine should things go in the complete opposite direction of what Blaine was expecting.  Especially if Mr. Anderson had actually decided to accompany their mother on the journey home, despite Cooper’s insistence that he stay away.  He reached his hand out and gave Cooper a gentle pat on the arm, hoping to offer some tiny token of reassurance.  Cooper smiled appreciatively and retreated back to the armchair just as the parade had returned from a commercial break.  

The next hour passed by in the blink of an eye and before they knew it, Cooper was bidding them goodbye and out the door.  Kurt had decided to venture into the kitchen to help with dinner, but Carole and Burt both shooed him away, telling him to relax and enjoy the holiday.  He took his seat next to Blaine again, who was watching a repeat of March of the Wooden Soldiers with Finn, and began texting Isabelle.  He had been communicating with her and Rachel almost religiously for the past two days, but he chose to withhold a little more information from Rachel than he did with Isabelle.  Deep down, he was not ready to deal with Rachel’s remarks after his kiss with Blaine considering how often she was still trying to talk him into coming back to New York.  So while he kept her updated on Blaine’s medical status and the doctor appointments and upcoming surgery, he was careful to keep his emotional responses regarding the situations to a minimum with her for the time being.  It was not that he did not trust her, but her constant need to spearhead every conversation and convert it into another attempt at what she called a ‘Blainervention’ was beginning to whittle away his patience towards her.  Isabelle, on the other hand, received every detail of Kurt’s concerns and emotional status.  She had been the only one to offer him unbiased advice and he never once felt judged by her whenever he took to rambling or recounting the previous days’ events.  

Isabelle 6:09 p.m. What time should I stop by?

Kurt 6:11 p.m. We’re still waiting to eat dinner, Cooper’s still not back.  

Isabelle 6:12 p.m. Nervous?

Kurt 6:12 p.m. Extremely.  I just hope it goes okay.  Coop let Blaine listen to a voicemail from their mom before he left and he sounded sooooo excited about it.  I just don’t want to see him get his hopes up and get hurt.

Isabelle 6:15 p.m. Any word on if she’s flying solo or not?

Kurt 6:17 p.m.

Not a clue.  We’ll find out soon though.

Kurt 6:18 p.m. If you want to come by whenever you’re done eating and don’t mind hanging out here that would be fine.  My parents won’t mind

Isabelle 6:20 p.m. We’re sitting down now so I’ll keep you updated! Ciao darling! <3

Kurt shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to Blaine and Finn.  They were both laughing along to the movie, completely engrossed and unaware of their surroundings.  Kurt smiled gratefully for the fact that today, so far, had turned out to be a good day and hoped the remainder of the evening was going to treat them just as kindly.  Another half hour passed by before Kurt noticed headlights approaching the driveway.  He checked his phone to be sure he had not missed any messages from Isabelle and, upon seeing he had not received any new messages except from Rachel wishing him a happy Thanksgiving and begging him for a phone call soon, he assumed it had to be Cooper pulling up to the house.  He protectively slid an arm around Blaine and braced himself for their entrance.  Through his heart pounding in his ears he was able to make out the sound of jingling keys and the gentle creak as the door slid open.

“Blaine?”

All three of them turned towards the door as Cooper’s voice cut through the noise on the television.  He stepped inside and trailing behind him was a short woman with shoulder length, thick curly black hair and bright hazel eyes to match her son’s.  Out of his peripheral vision, Kurt could see Blaine staring at the doorway like a deer in headlights.  It was as though he had been expecting a trick to be played on him all along and never imagined his mother would actually be walking in through the doorway as she had promised she would.  Kurt gave Blaine’s side a gentle nudge and raised his eyebrows towards the door.

“Kurt, is this real?” Blaine whispered to him as Cooper helped his mother out of her coat.

“Yes, say hello,” Kurt whispered back.

“H-Hi, mom,” Blaine said shyly.  She beamed and approached him so quickly with outstretched arms his first reaction was to shrink back against Kurt.  She frowned and dropped her arms slowly to her sides.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Go slow, mom,” Cooper closed the closet door after hanging up her coat.

“That’s how dad comes towards me when he’s going to—” Blaine clapped his hands over his mouth and the remainder of his accidental sentiment came out muffled. “Hit me.  Goddamnit, stop talking.”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Kurt whispered and rubbed his arm soothingly.  “She was just going to hug you.”

Mrs. Anderson continued to frown before deciding to drop down onto her knees in front of them.  Blaine sluggishly lowered his hands, still leaning all of his weight against Kurt as he watched her.  “Sorry, I have trouble— It’s hard for me to—”

“It’s okay, my little love.”  Kurt could not help but notice how alike they looked.  Her eyes squinted with the magnitude of her smile, something Blaine used to do so often but it had now become such a rare occurrence.  “You take your time.” This seemed to be enough to flip the switch for Blaine.  He lunged forward, throwing his arms around her neck, and nearly sent both of them toppling to the ground.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Blaine’s face became lost in the wild mess of her hair as she embraced him tightly.

“I promised I would,” she replied.

“Is it just you or,” he trailed off, leaning back just enough to make his face visible again.

“Your father’s at home, that’s why it took us a little longer, he wanted to be dropped off,” She had said the words so strenuously Kurt could tell she would never have even considered uttering them at all had Blaine not asked first.  

“Oh,” Blaine replied quietly.  

Burt and Carole walked into the room wearing matching kitchen aprons and both Kurt and Finn had to cover their mouths to stifle their laughter.  Burt ignored them and cleared his throat politely.  “Hello, nice to meet you.”

Blaine and his mother slowly broke apart and Kurt noticed him drag his knuckles over his eyes a few times as he came to lean back against him on the couch.  He snaked his arm around his shoulders again, pulling him close, and turned back to watch the exchange between their parents.  Mrs. Anderson stood up, straightening her blouse before approaching them and holding out her hand.  “Hello, Burt and Carole, right?” They nodded and each of them took a turn shaking her hand.  She smiled politely.  “I’m Emilia.  Cooper’s filled me in a little bit on how helpful you’ve been with taking care of Blaine.”

“Well, he is part of our family,” Burt said and Kurt could hear the touch of anger in his voice that he was clearly struggling to reign in.  He shot him a warning look to remind him of their conversation the previous day to keep things civil for Blaine’s sake.  Burt softened his tone.  “He’s a good kid, we’re happy to help.”

“Well, now that we’re all here I hope everyone’s hungry,” Carole announced.

“We’ll meet you inside,” Kurt responded.  They filed into the kitchen, leaving them alone and Blaine let out a long sigh as though he had been holding his breath the entire time.  Kurt continued to massage his arm.  “You doing okay?”

“I keep expecting to wake up any minute now,” Blaine replied.  The undertones of self-conscious anxiety infected his words and contorted his face with worry and doubt.  “I expected anything else besides her standing in front of me right now.  There were always excuses whenever she promised anything.  I can’t believe she’s here.”

Kurt did not know what to say.  He patted his arm lightly and spoke quietly, his voice shaky as he tried to fight down the overwhelming sadness he felt towards Blaine right now, “Let’s not keep her waiting then.”  He withdrew his arm and stood up, checking the brakes on the wheelchair before leaning over Blaine again.  He hooked his arms around Kurt’s neck and closed his eyes as Kurt slowly pulled him into a standing position and paused.  Blaine swayed lightly in his arms as he balanced on his good leg and opened his eyes after nearly a minute, “Okay, I’m ready.” Kurt guided him down into the chair and unlocked the brakes.

“Are you happy that she’s here?”

The fact that Blaine had to stop and contemplate the question made Kurt feel like he had already had his answer, but Blaine spoke quietly when they started moving towards the kitchen, “I think so.  I don’t know.  I’m pretty fucking scared, to be honest.”

Kurt stopped and looked down to see Blaine fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.  Somehow, this had been the real answer he was expecting, but it still made him sad to hear Blaine admit it aloud.  “Whatever happens, we’re all here for you, Blaine.  I know it’s all very,” Kurt hated to use the next word.  He hated that every aspect of Blaine’s life seemed to boil down to one four syllable word, including their own dilemma.  

“Complicated,” Blaine finished for him.

“Complicated,” Kurt repeated quietly before relocating in front of him and kneeling down.  Blaine continued to writhe and twist his hands together, staring down at his lap.  It was becoming such a familiar scene these days.  Kurt slid his hands along Blaine’s thighs and laced their fingers together, squeezing his hands gently.  “We’re here for you every step of the way, okay?” Blaine nodded wordlessly and Kurt leaned forward to kiss his cheek, feeling Blaine leaning into the kiss.  Kurt twisted his head and pressed his lips affectionately to Blaine’s, who pulled his hands free and slid his arms around Kurt’s neck as he returned the kiss.  It could have lasted ten seconds or ten minutes.  Neither of them were sure.

“Are you ready?” Kurt asked breathlessly once they had pulled apart. Blaine closed his eyes and nodded once.  Kurt pressed one more delicate, quick kiss against his lips before they went into the kitchen to join everyone else.  

Throughout dinner it was easy to see where Blaine and Cooper had picked up their natural ability to charm and effortlessly interact with anyone they met.  There had not been one moment of silence as Emilia regaled them all with stories of Blaine and Cooper growing up.  She seemed especially eager to hear about Kurt as well, asking all sorts of questions and grinning wildly as Burt had obliged in her requests.  Kurt sat beside Blaine, their hands clasped together under the table, and kept shooting glances at him between their bursts of laughter.  He looked happy, but still seemed guarded— afraid to let himself get too comfortable in the idea of what was turning out to be an extremely normal family dinner.  Emilia sat opposite them at the table and very often brought her gaze to rest on Blaine, the joy in her eyes so apparent Kurt thought there was absolutely no chance it was not genuine.  But he also thought back to the number of times Blaine’s house had been an empty wasteland whenever he visited, the way Blaine went out of his way to avoid speaking about both of his parents with such pain and sadness in his request to drop the subject and Kurt had to remind himself to also be wary of her intentions.  He had heard her on speakerphone the few days prior saying she would explain everything to Blaine once she had returned.  Whatever it was she had prepared to say to him, Kurt hoped it would be just as genuine as the way she was portraying herself to be now.  In the middle of one of Emilia’s stories about how Blaine used to put on living room performances when he was six and drag Cooper along as one of his props the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Kurt scooted his chair back.  “It’s probably Isabelle.”

With some effort he pulled his hand free from Blaine’s, who seemed to be unconsciously gripping it as though it was a lifeline tethering him down to earth.  Kurt kissed his cheek and excused himself to answer the door while Emilia continued her story.  When he swung the door open though, it was not Isabelle as he had expected, but Detective Carson.  His hair was unruly as ever, loose strands peeking out from beneath his hat, and his expression was serious, yet sincere beneath rosy, windswept cheeks.

“Hello, Kurt.  Sorry to interrupt your holiday like this, but this couldn’t wait.  Could I come in for a minute?”

Kurt’s brain took a moment to process the request before he stumbled over his words, “Yeah, of course.” He took a step back to allow Detective Carson enough space to step through the doorway and then quietly closed the door behind him.  “Does this mean you have news?”

“Not exactly, I’m afraid.  I was hoping to speak with Blaine.  There was another attack.  We were able to get a composite sketch of one of the attackers based off of the victim’s description, I was hoping to see if it’s someone Blaine recognizes so we can figure out if they’re connected in any way.”

“Oh,” Kurt cast an uneasy glance towards the kitchen.  “I see.  Let me go get him.  Please, have a seat.”

As Kurt approached the kitchen the physical atmosphere of the room transformed.  The last thing he wanted to do was pull Blaine away from the warmth and joy he had finally been able to find himself in, but he knew Detective Carson was right in his urgency for haste.  If these had indeed been the same people who attacked Blaine, it was only a matter of time before someone else came next.  He approached Blaine and leaned over to whisper in his ear while the conversation around them continued.  

“Detective Carson is here; he was hoping to talk to you.”

To say Blaine was caught completely off guard would have been an understatement.  Without even touching him Kurt could tell every muscle in his body had seized up at the thought of having to recount whatever fragmented pieces of the assault he could remember.  “I can keep everyone else in here and get Cooper to go with––”

“No, I want you both there,” Blaine rushed out in a frantic whisper.

“Okay,” Kurt placed his hand on his shoulder and straightened up.  “Excuse me?” Cooper had stopped talking and everyone looked towards Kurt.  “Coop, I need you to come in the other room with us for a minute.  Could everyone else please stay here? We’ll just be a few minutes.”

“Everything alright, bud?” Burt asked, the concern heavy on his face.  Emilia looked perplexed as she shifted her attention between Blaine and Kurt.  Kurt was not sure how much information Blaine wanted to give away and was trying to come up with some sort of excuse for their need for privacy when Blaine suddenly spoke up.

“Detective wants to talk to me again,” he mumbled.  

“Sweetie, do you want me to come with you?” Emilia asked.

“No!” Blaine responded a little too loudly, causing her to look taken aback.  “No,” he lowered his voice and blindly searched for the levers to unlock the brakes of the wheelchair.  Kurt reached down to guide his hands over them, letting Blaine unlock them himself once his hands were in the proper spot.  “Please just… just stay here?” Emilia nodded wordlessly, looking extremely unsettled.

“Watch your hands,” Kurt said quietly to Blaine and proceeded to wheel him back away from the table once he had folded his hands onto his lap.  Cooper patted his mother’s arm gently and followed them out into the living room where Detective Carson had remained standing, shuffling in place as he passed his hat between his hands.  

“Hello again, Blaine.  Sorry to bother you all on Thanksgiving like this,” Detective Carson offered his usual sympathetic smile.  Kurt positioned the wheelchair to face the couch and took a seat in front of Blaine.  Cooper took a seat beside him.  Detective Carson remained standing near the front door.

“Kurt said you wanted to talk to me?” Blaine asked apprehensively.

“Yes, there was another boy who was attacked and we’re trying to figure out if it’s connected at all with your case.”

Blaine sat stiffly, his hands clasped tightly together.  “How can I help?”

“We have a rough composite sketch based on the victim’s description,” Blaine flinched visibly at the word ‘victim’ and Kurt placed a hand on his knee.  “Can you tell me if you recognize the person in this sketch?” Detective Carson pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and held it out to Blaine, who did not reach for it.  Kurt took the paper from him and smoothed it out against his knee before showing it to Blaine.  The boy in the sketch had shoulder length, dark stringy hair.  His cheeks were sunken in, giving him the skeletal appearance of a corpse.  His eyes were dark and unforgiving, he almost looked bored.  Scattered across his face was an overabundance of freckles of different shapes and sizes and his thin lips were warped into the ugliest frown Kurt had ever seen.  Blaine’s reaction was instantaneous.  He inhaled sharply and clamped his eyes shut, turning his head as far away as possible from the sketch.

“Blaine,” Kurt said softly as the muscles and veins in Blaine’s neck became more pronounced.  It made Kurt’s neck ache just to watch him overextend himself in such an extreme angle.  “Honey, do you recognize him?”

“I do.”

When the sullen, irate voice answered him, Kurt’s head swung with such force there was an audible crack that permeated the silence that soon fell after the quiet confession had been uttered.  It was not Blaine that had spoken, but Cooper.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Girl you need, pt.2

Summary: Friends to lovers didn’t really work out for Y/N and Grayson after Grayson made the big mistake of not telling her he is already involved with someone else.

Warnings: angst

Word count: ~ 2.8k

Part one

Months have passed and I remained in my own bubble. Routine. That's the way I survived. School, work, home. It was a sure way to avoid any reminders of the man who broke my heart worse than anyone before him. I gave him that power – the power to annihilate me, reduce me to a sobbing mess at two after midnight upon dreaming of him.

It hurt. So. Damn. Much.

I don't know if you've ever had someone in your life that you put on a pedestal. In your heart and in your mind that person could do no wrong. They represented all you were searching for, and not just in this life, but every life you've lived before - if you believe in reincarnation. Hell, I was so sure that he was made for me and that this was our origin story. I truly thought whatever his soul is made of matched the material used on mine. I believed the universe stitched out this spider web where we wandered, balanced on the strings until they led us to one another.

I was such a romantic fool. I wished I could go back in time and slap myself. Shake myself up until I saw the truth I was so blind to.

Until I got that call.

„Y/N, it's Lisa. I know it's been a long time, but I could really use your help with the boys. Grayson is really out of it and Cameron is trying to help, but it's not going as planned.“ I frown, feeling my heart drop once I heard his name, the very name I refused to even think about let alone utter out loud. What made me frown deeper is the fact Lisa called for my help and she never calls just for kicks.

„What happened?“ I try to remain calm, wondering if perhaps something terrible occurred and my chance to see the asshole who broke my heart, and then proceeded to set the pieces on fire, was gone.

„They both had surgery and they're loopy and bleeding and I can't get them in the car. I'll send you the address.“ And the line went silent, the message coming through almost immediately after with the address of a private clinic ten minutes away from my house...Three minutes with a good Uber driver.

Shaking, my stomach in knots, I swallow a growing lump in my throat and start grabbing my things.

„Hey, I'm gonna be out for the day.“ I warn my roommate as she hands me my bag, silently admiring the ring she claims to have received from an admirer. It was enchantingly beautiful.

While I waited for the driver to get me to the locations, I felt myself slipping into a confused state of anger and sadness. Never a good combination, is it?

And maybe I try to tell myself I've moved on and forgotten all about it, but the truth is that I am so far from being okay. I bury myself in obligations, so many things to stop myself from thinking too much only to fall asleep quickly and sleep without any dreams because I'm too tired to dream. But, even though I try to keep myself from having quiet moments in life not to think about it, it's still something that creeps up on me, even in the middle of my busy days. I stumble upon a meme I know he'd laugh at, or eat something he'd rave about for days, or hear a song I know he'd be posting to Snapchat with an appropriate sunset view. He's still there in the back of my mind, crawling his way through my sanity and forcing me to remember the hurt he caused.

However, the moment I come to the clinic, I find the reason behind Lisa's call. While Grayson is spinning in circles and Cameron is trying to grab him, Ethan is lying on the concrete, curled up like a ball while his mother is talking to him.

Walking toward them a bit faster, I hear Grayson making 'chu chu' noises and Ethan is just rambling incoherently.

„Woah. What the hell?!“ I exclaim, stopping Grayson in his spot. But, he stumbles toward me, grabbing onto my shoulders a little too roughly before steadying himself and chuckling...it sounded more like choking.

„You're so pretty and fluffy like a cloud.“ He chuckles again, his eyelids dropping before he widens his eyes purposefully and puts on a straight face.

„Woah, bro. It got really dark for a moment. Like it was night, but it's day again!“ His fingertips dig into my shoulders and I press my lips together, watching Cam film the whole thing, trying to stop herself from laughing.

„Oookay, buddy. You're definitely out of it.“ I put a hand around his waist, making him drop one of his hands as we embrace in a side hug. Leading him toward the car, I try to ignore his awed stare to the best of my ability. It's unnerving, heavier than his body leaning on me and just as disarming.

„You're gonna sit here and wait for me, okay?“ I help him sit inside, watching him nod and do as I asked, his head tilting so his eyes follow my every move.

Wanting to help with Ethan, I turn on my heel, only to find him rushing toward me with a lopsided smile and his arms open wide, Lisa running after him in exasperation.

A bear hug, bone crushing, soul searching, warm kind of a hug is what hit me next, his weight almost entirely crushing me.

„I missed you so much.“ He mumbles as Lisa pushes him off and to the other side, letting me sit between the guys before helping Ethan in. It's hard to miss Cam's questioning eyebrow raise for Ethan seemed more himself than Gray did and his outburst of affection was suspicious.

„Oh, you're here?“ Grayson suddenly speaks up, his eyes half open and his tongue sticking out. It’s clear he doesn’t remember me helping him inside, nor anything before.

„It wasn't your fault. It's mine. God...I really fucked everything up this time, didn't I?“ Both Lisa and Cam whipped around to look at me, definitely a thousand questions running through their minds as I blushed deeply, sweating profusely.

However, it was like a switch for Grayson. He seemed to have forgotten what he said, taking out his phone to record a snap, starting it with: „What's up motherfuckers?!��� while Ethan tries to calm him down: „Relax, bro.“

Grayson's eyes flicker from Ethan to me, looking back at the camera. „I'm sorry guys. I'm sorry.“ Continuing mumbling about being Gucci or something...It's like his dyslexia has caught up with his mouth too.

„Alright. Get them home and into bed. Easy, right?“ Cam sighed, giving me a look that meant we'll talk later and in detail. It seems as if neither of them knew about what happened between Grayson and I.

Just as the thought passed through my mind, he leaned his head on my shoulder and took my hand in his, examining each knuckle carefully. I want to push him off, ignore his advances. They aren't genuine anyways. Not while he's hopped up on painkillers.

„You're not wearing my ring?“ He whines in my ear, making me furrow my eyebrows and turn my head to the side to face his wrinkled forehead and murky brown eyes filling with tears.

„What ring?“ I groan, already sick of his behavior and the constant need to touch me. Space and lots of it. That's what I need and he doesn't seem to budge an inch.

„He gave a butterfly ring to you as a sorry.“ Ethan whispers, as if he's trying to help me which only confuses me. It must be a part of their loopiness. Shrugging, I tap my shoulder for him to lean on. And he does. Instantly. But so did Ethan.

Both fell asleep rather quickly, allowing us to get them home safely.

Putting an arm around me, Grayson leaned on me almost entirely as I managed to get him inside his bedroom and on the bed. Tucking him in, I barely get a chance to stand before his fingers curl around my wrist and he tugs me back toward him.

„It really hurts, Tinkerbell.“ The pain laced in his voice, the sheer confusion and the cracks...it forced me to sit back down. The emotional pain I've carried around for so long finally caught up with me as I watched him flutter his eyes, his long eyelashes just as entrancing as they used to be.

Sighing, I lean in and gently, almost feather like, peck his swollen nose - right above his gauze. He flinches, seemingly frightened of the pain to come, but then his eyes snap open and his lips curl into a small smile.

„I kissed it better.“ I smile back, unable to withhold that small courtesy. He won't remember anything anyway.

„But that's not where it hurts the most.“ He says quietly, shyly, his right hand lifting to his chest as he taps it lightly, the G on his hand making me wonder if the doctors seriously labeled him to tell which twin is which. But then I realize I'm just trying to distract myself from what's really the problem...does he say his heart hurts?

„Why, Gray?“ Am I going to hell for extracting some half truths from a guy high on painkillers? Probably.

„Cause I loved you. And I los-lost you.“ He stumbles over his words, clearly exhausted and slipping up.

„What about your girlfriend?“ I keep on asking, feeling my heart hammer inside my chest longingly. Even after everything, I still want him. There is a serious flaw in my code.

„Left her the same day.“ His hand tightens around mine ever so slightly as his voice wavers and I feel heat rush to my face.

„You never responded to any of my letters. You don't even wear my ring.“ He said sadly, his eyes flooding with tears once more as I realize there is something more to the story. He wouldn't be able to come up with these things in this state...let alone repeat them if they were a lie.

„Do you still...“ I pause, knowing this is bad and that I probably need professional help...this is like self harming – going to the same person who put a dagger in your heart expecting them to heal you...it's not how the world works. It always makes it worse, giving them a chance to twist the dagger and damage you further.

„I do still love you.“ A lump forms in my throat, my eyes falling to his hand on mine, watching his fingers rubbing up and down on my skin.

Leaning in once more, I press a kiss to his cheek this time around, resting my forehead on his for just a moment with my eyes closed and my heart undeniably open. Open as the stitches I hand-placed ripped open and let him in. God, I hate him for doing that again.

„All better.“ He whispers and I open my eyes, smiling softly at him before moving away and he lets me go as his eyes close shut.

Closing his door behind me, I run into Lisa who seemed to be waiting for me.

„So, what happened?“ She asked, Cameron walking down the hall from Ethan's room with her best 'better talk now' look.

„It paints your son in a bad way and I don't want to ruin the image you have of him. Deep down, he's a good guy who just did a really shitty thing.“ I shrug, trying to walk past them, but Cameron instantly blocks my path.

„Grayson lied about dating someone, while loving Y/N, so he slept with Y/N and then thought he got her out his system and Y/N found him the day after in here when he was going to fuck his girlfriend, when he then told her some bad stuff and then she left. And Grayson broke up with the bimbo and called Y/N all the time, wrote heartfelt letters cause she likes that shit and even bought her a gold butterfly ring in Barcelona and she never responded.“ Ethan's nasal, loopy explanation left us all with mouths agape and shocked, forcing Cameron to take him back again while Lisa looked at me with sympathy.

„He really did fuck up.“ Lisa said, making my eyes widen, nearly falling out of my head. I've never heard her cuss before and I'm not sure if I should laugh considering her exasperation with her boy's behavior, or cower in fright because if looks could kill, Grayson would be in big trouble.

„I just...don't understand. Both of them are loopy, but their story is the same. They both claim he tried to earn my forgiveness and make everything right...something doesn't add up.“ I frown, placing my hands on my hips as I cast my eyes to the floor in thought.

And then I remember.

„Shit!“ I exclaim, turning to Cameron who just returned.

„I'll be back soon, I think my roommate did this. She always had a thing for Grayson and she's been wearing this golden butterfly wing that matches what both of them said.“

Running out, I go straight home. I did borrow Grayson's Porsche...serves him right. But, an hour of fighting and a 'if you don't give the ring back, you will lose a finger too' threat, I had all the letters on my bed and the ring on top. Each letter was comprised of my favorite movie quotes and a photo of us, his heartfelt apology and explanation why he chose just that photo with it. I didn't have time to comb through them all, wanting to be there when he wakes up.

I sat on his bed, waiting for him to wake up, just listening to him breathe as I read his letters slowly, carefully and with tears clouding my vision. He really did love me. He really was sorry.

But does he still feel the same?

„Pretty angel dream. I like it.“ Grayson's mumbling made me smile, making me wipe away the tears and face him.

„Hey, stranger. How are you?“ Laying down beside him, I rest my left hand, palm open on his chest and my head on his shoulder.

„Better with you here.“ His hand clasps mine, stopping short once he feels something unfamiliar. I see him looking down, his eyes softening as his face relaxed.

„You're wearing my ring.“ The endearing tone isn't lost on me, warming my heart as I snuggle into his neck and press a feather light kiss on his warm skin.

„I'm never taking it off.“

„Does this mean you forgive me?“ He questions, firmly clasping my hand now as if he's afraid of the answer he might receive.

„Only if you say you love me instead of writing it.“ I tease, feeling him tense up.

„I do. I do love you, but I might not remember this tomorrow and I want to tell you that sober.“ He rushed his words, undeniably making my anger dissolve entirely and my heart fall right back into his hands.

„But you just said it, and you said it earlier as well, so...just keep repeating it.“ I say quietly, ignoring my heartbeat going haywire at the prospect of us being more than just friends.

„I will. After all, you're both the girl I need and the girl I want.“

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