#and we can all be angry and stressed and exhausted together while we each eat our unusual flavor concoction of choice!!

[hiimcanadia]

I don't think I ever realized how... Weirdly relieving it would feel to be able to talk to other people who have experienced the same level of poverty as I have. Growing up most of my friends were middle class-ish, so there were a lot of things I really couldn't talk about around them because they just didn't get it and sometimes even thought I was being weird or gross. But I got to hang out with a group last week that was mostly people who have been poor, homeless, food insecure, etc, and it was kind of nice hearing other people share their experiences and seeing how similar they were to mine. Obviously poverty sucks and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, but it's been really good for me being able to remind myself that I'm not uniquely gross or weird because of the habits I picked up while going through this

[mieohmy]

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝟣𝟢𝟣 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, humor, comfort, established relationship au, college au,  this rly is just a self indulgent fic kjasdfk

WC: 2.1k

NOTES: slight argument/fighting ?? , cursing

SUMMARY: jeno wants your attention, your comforting presence, your love- he simply wants you.

for the bday boy that i treasure sm! happy birthday to puppy jeno <333

ღ

The phone next to you lies untouched, and practically has been for days- or has it been a week already? I mean, it wasn’t your fault that upcoming finals had been taking you to the depths of hell, and you had no choice but to lock yourself at home to study for a week on end. 

Which brings you to day 7? 8? of being holed up in your room all day, memorizing a bazillion tiny printed words and trying to cram as much information as possible in that overworked brain of yours. Getting about 4-5 hours of sleep a day, you couldn’t remember anymore- or even care to remember. Not to mention the added stress that came along with being any normal college student. Wasn’t life just wonderful?

You feel bad for everyone that has tried to contact you over this stressful period in your life (since you completely turned your phone off to eliminate all distractions), but the urge to stop studying completely and just check up on the real world and all its happenings grows stronger. You breathe in -out, constantly chanting ‘self-control’ over and over again in your head. Then your eyes slowly open, and you slap yourself one last time as if to say ‘get it together' before diving back into the books.

Just two more days. Two more days and you can finish and not have to stress about finals until results come out. 

At this point, you were surviving off of coffee, tea, random stolen snacks that your boyfriend would bring over from his dorm. 

Damn, when’s the last time you had a proper meal? Monday?

And then you frown. What day even is it today? You glance at your calendar and- 

Goodness grief, it’s Sunday already. 

You almost have a midlife crisis over wasting basically a week doing nothing but sitting at your desk and looking at words, but then again at this point- you’re just over it and want to be done as soon as possible. 

But soon, a weird feeling arises after you recall today’s date- like you were forgetting something. You place a hand over your forehead. Was there something important today? 

And as if the universe read your mind, the doorbell rings.

A giant wave of confusion washes over you. Was someone supposed to come over today?

-and you just completely wiped it from your mind?

You’re still running through your memories as you walk to the door. No, it's not Chae since she has finals too...

Opening it, you’re not at all expecting who was behind it. 

“Jeno-?”

He blinks back at your wide eyes, expression turning concerned, and you rub your temples in exasperation and defeat. 

“Oh, did we have a date today or something? I’m so sorry- I totally forgot.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No, I was just supposed to come over to hang out with you....”

“It’s been so long since we last talked, baby. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. What’s going on?” He promptly adds, staring intently at you. 

You let out a sigh, and jeno notices your tense shoulders and dark under-eye circles. “I thought you knew. Finals are coming up so I’ve been stuck at home cramming for about a week now actually.” 

His frown deepens. “I did know. And still, y/n..” he says in a warning tone. 

You know what his voice implies, you’ve heard it plenty of times at this point, but right now you don’t have to energy to listen to his nagging. “ I know, I know. Just- come in, I guess.....”

To be completely honest, you wanted to send jeno back home- there was still a lot more information left to cover and you obviously weren’t in your best condition, but he was the one who actually remembered your ‘date’ and drove to your place, so you would feel even worse making him go all the way back to his dorm. 

Jeno easily follows you in, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back any comments while examining your place even though barely anything has changed since he last visited- mostly because there was nothing to change when you were in your room all day. 

You walk to the kitchen, getting your boyfriend some water while yawning. Meanwhile, your mind is drifting away, thinking about what topics are left that you have to go over later. “What are we even doing today?” 

Jeno plops on your couch, arms behind his head. “I don’t know. A movie?”

You hide your grimace, immediately thinking of how much time would be wasted watching one, or possibly even more if jeno was feeling it. In the one to two hours of a movie, you could be done with chapter two and three-

“Y/n??”

Your head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna come over here or just stand there in the kitchen all day?” he teases.

You shake your head to clear the fog and join jeno on the couch. Scrolling through the options, you automatically snuggle up next to him, eyes blearily watching the moving tv screen. 

He decides on this one animated film, and you’re too drained to pay attention so you simply nod and let the movie begin. But even though you try your best to focus on the storyline and what’s currently going on, your mind keeps wandering off to other, more boring things- your studies, obviously. 

The number of chapters you covered, the slight of chapters you have left, how long you would have to stay up to finish going through your planned amount of information  -all the stressful thoughts swirling in your head, and it only exhausts you more. 

You let out a sigh, and jeno turns to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been sighing nonstop since we started the movie.” 

You clear your throat, biting back a yawn. “Oh- yeah, sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

Your boyfriend stiffens but doesn’t say anything, attention returning to the flashing screen in front of him. 

You did try. You really did. But your eyelids keep drifting shut and your head keeps slowly lolling forward and snapping back up -it’s not until your forehead accidentally knocks against jeno’s chest that he finally speaks up again. 

“Y/n. You need to take a break and get some sleep. Now.” His tone is sharp and commanding. 

You snap your eyes back open, vision blurry. “No- it’s fine. I’m good, let’s keep watching.” 

The immediate switch in the air is scary, jeno swiftly reaching for the remote and pausing the movie to look at you dead straight in the eyes before setting it back down with a loud, clattering noise. “You need to rest. I can tell from how tired you look, and I know you’ve been studying for so long, so why is it that hard to just relax for a little?” 

You groan, distress breaking through. “I can’t, okay? You already understand how stressful school is and how important my upcoming tests are. I know you’re just trying to be kind and thoughtful but-“ 

“But what?” He cuts you off, the frustration he’s been hiding for a while finally revealing itself. “Taking a rest from burning your brain out isn’t going to kill you, y/n.”

Your hands at your side clench and unclench, a wave of emotions overcoming you. “I know that. But I can’t afford to have a break now.” Everything suddenly feels overwhelming, and your voice comes out strained and uncontrolled. 

“I’m almost there, jeno. It’s so close, and if I stop now, I’ll feel like a failure.”

He laughs a short and echoing bark. “How do you think I feel? I was trying to brush everything aside and act like it was all fine, but it’s certainly not when you’re like this.”

You falter. 

Jeno gets up, making direct eye contact with you even though his body is trembling and his voice is shaky. 

“I spent the past week just lying in bed and worrying about you- if you were eating okay and getting enough sleep. I was constantly texting you reminders to take care of yourself, only to find out from your friend that you turned your phone completely off.  Do you know how shitty of a person I was feeling? I didn’t want to be a distraction to you because I know how much you care about your grades, but it’s killing me, y/n. I want to be there for you, but instead, I end up feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.” 

He shudders before continuing,

“And then I come here, brushing off all my worries since I was super excited to finally be with you after so long, and then I have to see you in such a bad condition. Barely taking care of yourself, barely even surviving on your own just so you can pass your exams that I know you’ll already do well on no matter what. As your boyfriend who wants to help and be here for you, do you know how much my heart hurts?”  

He finishes, but not before wiping away the frustrated tears that appeared in his angry rant.

It takes one beat -two beats, before you immediately spring up, rushing towards jeno and throwing your arms around him. 

He accepts it, burying his face into your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. 

The guilt courses through your body, and you understand. The consequences of your actions hit you, hard, and you know you deserve it all. Jeno just wants to know that you’re here. You’re here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” you murmur into his hair, “I’m really, really sorry, jeno.” 

You hate the fact that you can still feel the slight wetness of his tears soaking through your-technically his- shirt. You pull back, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows you’re being genuine.

“I promise to pay more attention to myself, and I promise I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t shut you out anymore... and you can come over to take care of me whenever you want, okay?”

Jeno slowly nods, and you softly wipe away the corners of his red eyes of any wetness.

He pulls you closer to him again, inhaling your scent one more time, and you finally let yourself go. 

After about a minute of just enjoying each other’s warm embrace - one that you feel like you haven’t felt in so long- you allow yourself to smile and pull back just enough to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Was my baby just lonely and missed me too much?” you sing in a soft voice. He lets out a disgruntled noise in response, shaking his head against your body. 

But you both know what the answer is.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” You tug his arm easily to your room, putting off your studies, at least for today.

“You’re really gonna take a break this time?” Jeno asks, eyeing you carefully. 

You grin. “Yes? Besides, I know you’re always down for cuddles.” 

You drag him to the bed, taking his arms and wrapping them around your body as exhaustion quickly fills you. 

You fight yourself to stay awake as long as you can to enjoy jeno’s presence, but he notices and hugs you even closer if possible, whispering softly, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And before you finally drift off, you sleepily murmur, “I love you, jeno. Like, a lot.” 

Even after you fall asleep in his embrace, he stares down at you, softly kissing your forehead.

I love you too. 

bonus bc i adore jeno too much :

“Jeno- for the last time, you’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“I know.... but-“

You shut him up with a quick kiss.

“You’re the sweetest.”

Another kiss.

“Funniest.”

Peck.

“Handsomest.” 

His ever so growing smile freezes. Jeno looks at you, a surprisingly solemn look on his face. 

You raise an eyebrow, confused. 

“......even more than Nam joo hyuk?”

Ah. He had to go for the favorite actor. 

You swallow, battling an intense internal war before begrudgingly nodding. “Okayyy...fine. You are.”  

He crosses his arms. “I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, whining. “I already said it!”

Jeno shakes his head firmly. “Say the whole thing.”

You take a deep breath in, internally apologizing to your beloved actor. “......you, lee -verymuchanannoyingbaby- jeno, are more handsome than Nam joo hyuk.” Your sentence is finished swiftly in one breath, words slurring together. It actually pains you to say that. But it’s good enough for your boyfriend. 

Jeno delights in the squeal you let out when he picks you up in his arms to spin you around. 

“Fuck yeah- take that, nam joo hyuk!”

ღ

a/n: anyways im going to go hide away and cry over jeno now ^^

[likeyourfatherinhell]

have the oddest sense of attachment to Sevastopol Station. it’s this irreparable husk of empty promises and broken dreams. it orbits a distant gas giant like a cheap imitation of the earth orbiting the sun, this yawning maze of metallic halls and disused facilities, industrial, impersonal, humming and whirring and cold. its only inhabitants are scattered handfuls of betrayed, exhausted people long since abandoned by whatever convinced them to come here, ultimately stranded in deep space. 

long before the alien infestation, Sevastopol is a dysfunctional hive of misery. its sparse population just keeps thinning - every person left behind as more of their colleagues jump ship is spread even thinner in their absence than they were before. there’s barely enough personnel left to keep up with minimum station maintenance. this ghoulish behemoth thing worth billions of dollars is kept hanging in the sky by a skeleton of a skeleton crew. tired, lonely people overworked and cornered on a floating ghost town rife with poverty, crime, and corruption, left with no real structure to rely on and no chance of things improving. 

the Josiah Sigg Apartments, where we’re to assume the Sevastopol residents all live (save for the few rich executives who pass thru on business once in a blue moon)? some of those units have 16 bunks to a room. no privacy. no real home to live in. even accounting for how small the station population is, most of them probably can’t afford the luxury of living quarters with fewer beds crammed into them. there’s plenty of empty apartments, no real reason for these people to be piled in so close together, save for the greed of those who collect their rent. no room to breathe, no sun, no trees, no life. 

it’s miles on miles of identical fucking hallways and rooms that all look exactly the same. it’s white on white on grey on white on hydraulics hissing as the doors open to an exact mirror image of everything on the other side. it’s telling a busted-up glorified excuse for an animatronic about your day just to kid yourself into feeling like you have someone to talk to. it’s inescapably inhuman. it’s crunchy voice boxes and exposed live wires, it’s canned corporate announcements and dingy gunmetal grey and artificial lights and rubber fingers gripping everybody trapped on it like a vice. it’s hostile. it��s a chokehold. that’s Sevastopol Station.

but this breeding ground for cabin fever means so much to me. in the strangest way, it feels like home. in my head, this bleak dead zone is where i go to when i need comforting. this is where i go when i close my eyes for a moment and i need to de-stress. standing by one of the windows, looking out at KG-348 for a moment while on my way to clock in for the day. sitting by a workbench while someone i don’t know all that well complains about their shift, just letting them vent. holed up in the corner of some storage room off to the side, eating lunch and enjoying the peace and quiet. sometimes the faulty lighting looks pretty. what does it matter what the food tastes like if it’s cheap and it’s filling? it’ll get me through the day. there’s too much to do and not enough time to do it. not enough people to help.

the few people we have are hurting. they’re scared, they’re angry, and they don’t know what to do. nobody wanted this. Sevastopol was gonna be some huge trade center, booming and bustling and thriving with room for growth out in all directions, everyone was told. there’s nothing to do now but leave, or choke on the choices you made that lead you here and try to make it work. try to make it worth something. try and be of some use to each other, maybe try and make it hurt a little less. if you can. just hold on for dear life and wait and see if things get better, or if they finally decide to put the place out of its misery. and i think about it, and i feel safer. i don’t know why.

it’s something about working retail thru the pandemic that made this fictional ailing space station dig so far down into my rib cage. the hopelessness, the broken promises by leadership, the constant hemorrhaging staff, the flimsy camaraderie you share with the other people who work with you who don’t want to be there and know that you don’t want to be there, and you don’t really know each other and don’t want to but you all know every single one of you is not okay. we keep working longer hours and going longer stretches without days off and the managers keep promising they’ll hire more people and that things will get better right around the next bend, and another one quits and another one gets transferred and the next one promises more of the same. i walk in every few months and realize i don't know anyone anymore, again. the last wave of new people are gone just when i learn all their names. the next wave is always smaller than the last and somehow they never stay as long. the people that own the company are making so much money but somehow the place feels like it's dying, and it's taking us with it.

overworked and trapped and tired and sick and scared of getting sicker. walking to work over crumbling bridges and broken sidewalks littered with medical masks, and walking home past all the empty buildings of places that went out-of-business. the public works department doesnt have the money to make bridge repairs so they just block them off and leave the gaping holes. nobody has the funds or faith in the economy to try opening new businesses in the dozens of empty buildings. the town is poor and empty and getting poorer and emptier, and the people left behind make their lives smaller and smaller to make more room for work. endless hours on days on weeks on months on years of doing shit that doesn't matter for people that don't care, and watching nothing get better.

crawling thru a ventilation shaft to get home because there's not enough maintenance staff to finish repairs on a gas pipeline so the flooring in a huge section of the hall is just gone. walking past a food court's worth of empty, shuttered restaurants to get a packet of reheated mush from a vending machine. two people in your department managed to nab new assignments off-station, so now you're doing the work of six people with no change in pay. no one goes to the doctor because the medical staff can be counted on one hand. no new businesses open, but every other week another one closes. the stress is spread less and less evenly as the station gets quieter and quieter. no one trusts the Marshals. no one feels safe.

and this game was made years before anyone could’ve known this would happen but the parallels are still there. theres something cathartic in Sevastopol. i feel like a piece of my heart is in it, or maybe a piece of it is in me. i just kind of hold it, and i’m glad that it’s there.

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Babysitter SL

Prompt: Shade (lord) is in the midst of final exams and they’re more stressed and tired than usual while babysitting. They accidentally fall asleep in the middle of a calm spell and the god babies become worried. The next time Shade comes over, all of the god babies present a gift they all made together!

By @minnesotamidian-blog​

Shade barely noticed their surroundings as they entered the nursery playroom. Plastic clattered and they sighed as Radiance yelled at the top of her lungs. At least she wasn't screaming. Yet. The scene was set: Unn was still in a crib and chewing on a bar, Root was climbing slowly onto a chair. Radiance was knocking over plastic blocks as Grimm cackled away. For once, Wyrm was playing peacefully with a kick toy, batting at it with his tail. Root got onto the chair and squealed, raising her arms. "Big Root now!" The little blue-eyed godling squeaked out.

Shade picked her up, hugged her to their chest before holding her out. "Now you're a flying Root."

She screamed laughter as Shade tiredly walked her around the room before setting her down near some of her favorite toys. They made sure nobody else had claimed the chair and took a seat, bending over to pick up the fussy moth. "Ancient enemy!" Of course she bit their hand.

Shade winced and just ran a hand over her fluff. "Are you hungry for something that isn't void?" They spoke tiredly.

"Oranges!" She yelled out.

The teen sighed as he went to the mini-fridge with snacks and found some miracle of miracles! pre-peeled oranges. Shade pulled them out and put her in a high chair with one at a time so she wouldn't be tempted to throw the extras at them.

Finals were here and they were really taking it out of the gangly god. Why did they have to know stuff about inorganic chemistry? Why did they have to know about history nobody cared about? There were some fun subjects, but the finals seemed to even suck the fun out of those classes, going over notes and studying everything just in case. They'd been pulling long nights and the night before had been an all-night cram session-and they still had to come to work, they couldn't afford not to. They'd underlined all the stuff the teacher had said was important to remember and had written down stuff from the last finals about each teacher's usual tests.

It made narrowing down what to study from impossible to I'm totally toast. They groaned as they set down a calmer Radiance the opposite side of the room from Wyrm. She found toys that interested her, at least. Root wandered over to Wyrm, who was really into knocking at the kick toy and purring. Root settled nearby and burbled as she hugged and gnawed a plushie.

The teen couldn't help it. The kids were calm for once; their head started to tilt forward, eyes heavy. They were exhausted. Shade's eyes closed and their breathing deepened. At first, their toys were too interesting to notice their babysitter's state; but it didn't take long for Grimm to get bored enough to fly over and notice. "...Shade? Shade's eyes are closed." They landed and the four children not in a crib headed for the batlike godling.

"Is Shade dead?" Wyrm sounded worried.

"Don't be stupid, they're having a nap!" Radiance huffed.

Root looked up and swayed before patting Shade's leg. "Grown-ups don't have nap times." She was tearing up.

"Nuh-uh, they're having bad dreams and it's tasty!" Grimm clamored onto their lap.

The others joined, Radiance grabbing Unn to join them on the sleeping teen. Grimm rested between Shade's horns, Unn was on one shoulder, Radiance on the other, with Root and Wyrm curled up together on Shade's lap, Wyrm purring for once.

When Shade woke up, they were surprised by the weight on their body and forced themself to look down and around before moving. "Uh oh, I fell asleep… sheesh, I'm glad this place isn't a fiery disaster." They picked the godlings up. "You're not dead!" Wyrm exclaimed.

Root burst into tears and even Grimm joined in on the crying spat. Shade sighed and spent the rest of the time comforting them until meal time and settled them down. Time to go home for them all!

But the worry didn't leave the heads of the little godlings. "We should make something for Shade. If they're having nightmares, they might be sad." Radiance sighed. "But that doesn't mean I feel bad for my ancient enemy!" "What do we make?" Root twirled around, slowly turning in place until she fell onto pillows in her dizziness.

"Something of clay! I can burn it dry!" Grimm hopped around.

"But there's no clay." Unn spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "But there's crayons and paper."

"Oooh. We can make a pretty picture for Shade!" Wyrm waved his head happily. The group went for papers and each started to draw on the paper. "You're taking up too much paper!" Wyrm whined.
Radiance complained in turn, pointing at the color he was using. "I want that color!"

Wyrm growled and argued back. "I had it first!"

They started rolling around over their drawings, biting and clawing. Grimm gave a solid scream that startled the two. "You ruined Shade's pretty pictures!" He yelled.

The two looked at each other and hung their heads. "...sorry." Radiance muttered.
"-'m sorry." Wyrm looked away from the moth, skulking. "Start again? You can have the crayon, Radiance…"

Radiance took the crayon and they all picked up the last piece of paper. "I think this is better." Root spoke cheerfully.

It was three days later, once Shade had a solid night's sleep and finals completed that they'd returned to work. A large construction sheet of paper in grey covered in scribbles and rough names and messages was waiting for them.

Feel better soon Shade

Love you

Best babysitter

Tastiest nightmare!

Not the worst anciant ancient enemy.Shade could only feel warmth and laugh, hugging the drawing to themself. There were some days the job felt like the best thing in the world.  ------------------------------- By @tomatotimes

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

By @loud-whistling-yes

"No."

The kids protested louder. Shade lifted the TV remote higher up, now above their head.

"Screentime's over, I said no."

Wyrm attempted to crawl up their leg in what was a rather pathetic attempt at stealing the remote, but was promptly shaken off. Grimm tried next, flying overhead to snatch the controller. Shade ducked and grabbed him by the tail before he could send himself flying straight towards the ceiling fan for the third time that day.

"Find something else to do," Shade said as they stuffed the remote deep into their pocket, much to everyone else's dismay. "Look, as much as I'd love to shut you guys up for the whole day, you've all been staring at the TV for hours now and I don't want to get in trouble with your parents."

Louder complaints.

"No, no, no. I am not cracking this time." Shade announced as they pulled Radi, who was hissing like an angry cat, off their jeans and pulled their phone out. "You guys got me last week, never again. No more TV for you, we're doing something else before I lose my money for tonight. Google almighty, what is your suggestion."

activities to do with children

fun activities to do with children

activities to do with toddlers

what can I do with kids that isn't a major headache to deal with goddamnit

Go to the park? Shade took about half a second to consider the thought before wondering why they even thought it was possible anyways. Five kids from the deepest depths of hell, outdoors? No. No park.

Finger painting? A pain to clean up, but better than outdoors. Then they looked up from their phone and considered the idea with greater thought. Grimm's wings, Radi's legs, Unn and Wyrm's… er…. Body?.... Nevermind.

Play pretend? …. If they hear the name Hallownest one more time they might just go insane.

Hide and seek? No. No no no no no. No more hide and seek. Shade was utterly sick of hide and seek. If they had to spend another second stuffed inside the closet or trying to get Radi off the roof they'll probably quit the job right there and then.

Baking?

… That might work. Sure, cleaning up is gonna be absolute hell but it's the only thing Google suggested that they haven't tried yet without horrible results.

Shade stuffed their phone back into their pocket and made a getaway to the kitchen, everyone else following, probably still trying to get the remote back. Butter, eggs, flour, sugar, oh, even some chocolate chips…

"Well then," They declared, pulling every ingredient out of the cabinet and fridge. "We're making cookies! And no, no one is allowed to touch the oven when it's hot. If you guys behave we'll have cookies in like, an hour or something like that."

The kids watched in confusion as Shade ran around the kitchen, pulling out bowls and spoons and a bunch of other utensils while typing furiously on their phone.

Cookies recipe

Cookies recipe easy

Cookies recipe for beginners

Cookies recipe for kids

"What do you guys think about chocolate chip cookies?"

Multiple chitters of approval. "Chocolate chip cookies it is then."

Step one: sieve the flour. Oh wyrm, first step and it's already gonna go to shit.

"Okay, you guys can watch this but for the love of the holy wyrm, do not touch it." Shade measured the correct amount of flour before scooping Wrym and Unn off the floor onto the table so they could see while Radi pulled herself onto the chair. The Lady had already clinged herself onto their sweater and Grimm was doing just fine flying nearby.

“You guys get one chocolate chip each if you guys behave and don’t get flour everywhere.” Shade added. “Now, Lady, hold still and don’t move, I gotta keep my hands steady for this…”

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

"Okay, chocolate chip time." Shade popped open the jar of chocolate as the kids cheered. "Actually, we’re not supposed to be eating this plain, cause it's going into the cookies. But no one actually does that so you guys get five chips each for not setting the kitchen on fire so far."

"The recipe says a cup of chocolate chips but we all know that's a lie." They added while shoving their phone back in their pocket and grabbing a handful of chips before mixing the batter together. "I'm probably not someone you should take life lessons from, but here's one thing I can guarantee you should take to heart: never follow the recipe when it comes to chocolate chips, you count that with your soul."

Final step: oven time. The oven was preheated earlier, and the only thing left was to get the cookies into the tray and into the oven. "Now, who wants to make heart-shaped cookies?"

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

Three deformed stars, five mutated trees, two malformed cats, several irregular hearts, a couple handfuls of chocolate eaten straight from the jar, and one (1) perfectly round cookie later, the cookies were on the tray, in the oven, and in a surprising turn of events, no one burned themselves… yet. Shade grabbed everyone and made sure no one was in a five-meter radius within the oven before picking up all the dirty bowls and utensils. “Cookies will have to sit in there for about 15 minutes, we’ll be cleaning up in the meantime.”

“Don’t look at me like that, and no whining, if you want cookies you gotta deal with the mess afterwards. That's the payoff, unless you're a wizard who has a passion for baking. Then that's fair, I guess." They dumped all the used utensils they could find and turned on the sink. The sief, three bowls, tablespoons and teaspoons.. Oh wait.

"Radi, the big wooden spoon, please?" Shade called, sponge in their hand and bowls being thoroughly rinsed.

Radi, of course, was not willing to help, because she's basically a feral house cat that just so happened to grow more legs than the average feline. Shade sighed and moved on to finding the next helper they could find.

"Grimm, I know you're touching the oven, stop it. I'm pretty sure you're immune to fire but not everyone else and you're setting a bad example for them. Get me the spoon please."

“Lady, here’s a cloth, help me dry the bowls up. Wyrm, … i have no idea how you can help, no limbs and all but uh, could you go get Unn? I have no idea where she went. Thanks.” The last sentence was to Grimm, who flew over with the mixing spoon and dropped it into the sink while Wyrm scurried away to find Unn, wherever she’s napping at.

"Radi? Radi, I know you're right behind me, stop pretending that you can't hear me. Lady has an extra cloth with her, you're on table wiping duty."

*********

“See? That wasn't so bad,” Shade sent the last of the bowls back into the cupboards and closed it shut. “And the cookies are pretty much done.”

“Also, no. You may not eat the cookies the moment I pull them out of the oven. These rules also apply to Grimm because it's unfair to everyone else.. Don’t look at me like that Grimm, I know you’ll eat them all before they cool and leave us nothing.”

The cookies smelt delicious, and were left on the dining table to cool. “Now that it's cooling down, it's naptime.”

A chorus of groans and wailing.

“It’ll be ready when you guys get up. Up up up, sleep time.”

**********

If you’ve been anywhere near toddlers before, you’d know that getting them to nap in their bedrooms is a near-impossible situation. And Shade was not a person who deals with near-impossible situations well. So following the months old custom, Shade turned on the tv, remote miraculously not pickpocketed, collapsed onto the couch, and waited for everyone piling on them to fall asleep before moving them into their bedroom and pretending they managed to wrangle them all into bed.

And it all goes to plan, the Lady and Wyrm were sound asleep on their lap, Radi and Unn were dozing off on their shoulders, and they're pretty sure the snoring from the top of their head was coming from Grmm. Now, step 2: get everyone off them and onto the beds.

… Or maybe later. It's been a long day, and the couch is pretty comfy. Yeah, just five more minutes, nothing wrong with that…

And if the parents came home to see a cleaner-than-expected kitchen, a tray of chocolate chip cookies, and five kids snoring on top of their babysitter, also sound asleep, then that’s nobody’s business.

And if the originally completely full jar of chocolate chips was pretty much empty, then that’s no one’s business as well.

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

By @astronomicartz​

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

By @hollow-kin​

Shade lord wanted to take a nap. They are sooo tired, but they are babysitting 5 baby gods for 5$/H. Grimm is a brat, Radiance his sister is also a brat. Unn was ether eating or seeping, same with grub1. Lady was, well sweet and cuddly. they needed to find a distraction for the kids, what would work?

Would tv work, would cartoons work? They had dinner already. Tv had to work or grub and radiance would destroy the house. They needed to take a nap. Now what to watch was a different question, they would have to ask the kids. “so, what do guys want to watch? “Movie!” well they were all in agreement, what was good. “What kind of movie do you guys want to watch?” “Fire!” “dath” “animal” “tree” “ok. No, we are NOT watching fire.” “awww” “i do not know what dath means so no. So nature show it is then.” they go over to the tv and turn it on, then select the world around us. Lady was quick to fall asleep, on their lap. Shade lord slowly fell asleep, and grub nested between grub and shade lord. Grimm climed up to shade lord's head. 

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

By @hawaiianbabidoll

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

By @neoliberalsatan

A gentle darkness surrounded the shade lord. He finally felt at ease. "finally", he thought, "rest." it didn't take long after that before the darkness started to take shape and a whole new world created out of shadows sheathed him.

But the happiness of the shadows didn't last long. A new and a new sound drowned out their world and all the animals and plants took to hiding back in his head. The shade lord felt the distressed creations stir inside his mind and woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He rubbed his lowest eyes and accepted the call

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Oh sorry dear, i know it's terribly late but we got an unexpected call and need to leave. Since you've babysat Unn multiple times we assumed she would like to stay with you. Is it okay for you? Can we bring her to your place?" The shade lord thought for a moment and decided he could use the money. "Yea it's fine, she's always such a pleasure to babysit." The voice on the other side sounded relieved. "Thank you. You're a life saver. We will make sure you're compensated accordingly."

Feeling a bit more awake after the phone call he started to prepare for having baby Unn over. After a while her parents arrived and after some greetings he was home alone with the baby. He walked with her in his arms towards the living room and placed her gently inside the crib. She opened her eyes for a moment after losing the feeling of someone holding her, but then closed them again and fell back asleep.

The shade lord decided he couldn't sleep anymore and made some popcorn and decided to put on a movie. It didn't even take 20 minutes before he got called again.

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Oh yes finally someone who answers. Sorry but you're our last hope. We were going somewhere tonight but our babysitter called off. Do you think you could babysit our lovely Radiance? She's very good behaved and won't cause you trouble." "yea, no problem. You'll just need to bring her to my place if it's no trouble"

Not even 5 minutes later the parents showed up and dropped of their larva. Shade lord looked at it a bit confused but didn't get the time to say anything because the parents left as soon as they handed her over. He closed his front door and gave the larva a good look. She was white and had a fluffy appearance. She had 5 pairs of legs and yellow-orange eyes. She started to writhe a little bit and shade lord made sure to hurry to the living room. He took a pillow and placed it on the couch and softly laid her on it. She seemed at ease and rested on the pillow all stretched out

Shade lord continued his movie, which was finally starting to get interesting, but as usual the commercial break hit. He was in the kitchen making more popcorn when he got another call.

"Hello, with shade lord. How can i help you?" "Hello, is this the babysitter?" "Yes, that's the one you're speaking with." "Great, a family member had an accident and i need to be there for them so do you think you could babysit for me?" "Yep, totally." "Thank you, can we bring him to you?" "Oh yea, no problem."

A few minutes later his doorbell rang and he hurried towards it. The father carried his toddler in what could only be described as wing-esque appendages. The shade lord extended his arms for the man to put his toddler in and felt a gentle brush of the leathery membrane. He shivered lightly before feeling a sudden warmth light up in his face, like someone has started a fire. When he looked back up the man was gone and he closed the door. The creature he was holding in his arms was unlike anything he had ever seen. 2 horns sprouted from its black head. The face was as bleak as white linen on a summer day. It seems she likes make-up because she had already 2 black lines running from her cheeks towards her eyes, eventually fading into the darkness of her head. She had the same membranes as her father and no limbs besides it.

He wasn’t even in the living room before he heard his front door being was under siege. He put the weird creature down and opened the front door. Immediately he was assaulted by Hollow, a very energetic child. He was wearing a green cloak today and it finally seemed he was starting to grow bigger than a hand. His horns has also branched into the inside. Immediately after Hollow jumped on his he could hear Pale complain about his unprofessional work attitude. Although he was bigger than most it seems he wouldn’t grow much anymore. His tiny stature didn’t discourage him from being bossy. Finally White entered. By far the biggest of the bunch, she was also the most introverted. Her roots slid elegantly over towards him and even managed to stop Pale from talking for a moment.

He took them inside the living room only to find that somehow the larva and the winged creature had somehow gotten into a fight and now both were in hiding in opposite sides of the room. Normally he wouldn’t make such a big deal out of this if somehow his couch wasn’t full of tiny needles and a chair was on fire. He rushed to the tap to fill a bowl of water to extinguish the little fire. With the attention being diverted Hollow managed to slip from the watch of Pale and could now be found in the corner Radiance was hiding. The larva figured out quickly he liked to play games and had soon enough set up a plan to make him betray Pale.

In the meantime White had climbed the couch and started pulling out the needles while Shade lord had figured out what the membrane between the appendages from the weird creature were for. Namely, for flight. And now she was attacking his horns and he couldn’t reach her. As if her flying was not good enough alone, whenever he raised his arms she would back off and launch a little fireball  All this commotion woke up baby Unn who slowly started to slither away from her crib to find food.

The shade lord finally had enough of the little fire hazard and rushed towards the pantry to get a kettle. Once he had found it he peeked around the corner only to find that fire hazard eating his popcorn! All caution was thrown aside and he grabbed her by the guts and put her inside the kettle. She tried to heat it but he added some water to it. While it evaporated quickly it was apparently enough to bring over the message. Now he could focus his attention back on the larva again, only she could’ve produced those needles, which White was making great progress with removing them as a quick glance told him.

Now back to Pale and Radiance who were apparently having a fight (Darkness, that larva really has a talent to provoke others). They were arguing near the coffee table, because apparently they wanted a fight so bad they just ran to each other and met in the middle. Hollow was climbing one of the legs of the table, but wasn’t noticed by the shade lord because he was too occupied with the other 2. He tried to separate the arguing pair but they were at each other’s throats. They even had summoned a needle and a tiny dagger to fight each other. The shade lord obviously didn’t count on this tiny factor and had soon enough one in each hand. He screamed, trying not to curse, barely not failing miserably, and Pale managed to escape. In any other situation this wouldn’t pose a problem, but Hollow, after eating some popcorn, found himself at the right edge of the coffee table and pulled out his tiny wooden sword he got from Pale. The larva, Darkness curse her, used this to her advantage and made the sign to Hollow to betray Pale. The act of betraying Pale involved jumping off of the coffee table and hitting Pale as hard on the head as possible. Naturally, all of this went according to plan and even brought some extra spectacle. After Hollow had hit Pale on the head he wasn’t prepared for the recoil of the wood and ended up hitting himself in the face.

All of this lead to 3 crying children (1 of them from laughing, the others from pain) and 1 very angry young adult. He put the larva on the couch and took care of the others while White held a close eye on the damned 10 legged thing. After Pale and Hollow weren’t crying anymore he took the little fire hazard out of the kettle and continued his movie, which was getting to an end.

After the film ended a documentary started and had all the kids hooked. He went to check on Unn only to find an empty crib. He could however see a slimy trail lead up his wall and onto the ceiling. It went through the door into the pantry where he kept his food and toys for the toddlers. He looked up on the ceiling only to find a sleepy Unn with a letter block in her mouth. Suddenly Unn started to make a very weird noise and fell from the ceiling onto his face. He swiped her off of his face onto his shoulder and then washed it.

He returned back to the tv to watch the documentary that was still playing and plopped down on the couch. Not long after he was asleep with White on his left shoulder, Unn on his right shoulder, the little fire hazard on the same arm and Pale curled up in his lap. Radiance and hollow were still awake but occupied with the documentary instead of causing trouble. After the documentary ended they crawled up against his sides and fell asleep.

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

By @constantlost 

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

By @bugbeee

Exhaustion seeped into Shadelord’s body, limbs weighed down by a heaviness they hadn’t experienced in a while. The smatter of godlings that lay around them on the couch, or on them in Radi’s case, was enough to convince them that they had died and that this was the Eternal Void that was created to punish them for cheating on that test in the 8th grade. In their defence, it had been on rock sedimentation.

Wyrm continued his grumbling from the corner of the couch, still infuriated by the attack on his person only moments before. Root, the aggressor, looked remarkably pleased with herself. Shade knew they should probably punish her further in some way but... well, to be perfectly honest, they simply were not paid enough to do so.

They really should have charged more. Fifteen dollars at least per tiny demon they had to look after rather than the whole bunch. Fifteen dollars was not enough to encourage discipline. It was enough for them to make sure none of the godlings killed the other. And they had thought they had come up with an ingenious plan to secure some peace and quiet.

After much wrangling, they had finally managed to set up two separate playpens, each far enough away that the godlings wouldn’t start screaming if one of them saw their rival. Wyrm and Root in one pen, Grimm, Radi and Unn in another. It was a gamble, but one that thankfully seemed to have paid off. Radi was still exhausted from the tussle she had just had with Wyrm, and Grimm seemed content to chew off the heads of the plastic Garbies they had found. Unn continued to watch, and occasionally helped Grimm execute a Garbie in a spectacular manner. It was both reassuring, and beyond disturbing. Root and Wyrm meanwhile were cheerfully ignoring each other as they both played with their own toys.

It should have been foolproof.

Unfortunately for Shade however, they were dealing with infants instead of fools.

For some damned reason, Root had decided that now was the perfect time to act up, instead of being the sweet little darling she had been so far. Her target, much to their dismay, had been Wyrm. In all fairness, the godling had probably deserved it in some way; most likely he had tried to worm too close in order to steal some of the grubpaste and mushroom sticks Shade had left out as a snack. Root had seen this theft as a cardinal sin, and had subsequently decided that Wyrm deserved nothing less than absolute annihilation.

The momentary doze Shade had managed to fall into was abruptly interrupted by loud shrieking and wailing, resulting in them vaulting over the couch to hurriedly find out which one of the godlings was being tortured.

The scene that greeted them was... well, it wasn’t any less ridiculous than some of the other stuff the little goblins had pulled before.

Using her flexible tendrils, Root had seen fit to wrap them around Wyrm, and aggressively dunk him into the bowl of grubpaste he had attempted to steal from. His shrieks and hisses had woken up Radi and drawn the attention of the other children, who were now cheering on Root’s attack on Wyrm’s person.

“Enough,” Shade declared, shooting a glare behind them, “Root, let him go.” Root looked up innocently.

No, she seemed to say with her eyes, justice must prevail.

“Justice won’t get me my fifteen dollars,” they hissed out in return, and they could have sworn that Root shrugged, turning away from them to dunk Wyrm into the bowl yet again.

“No!” they cried out, quickly whipping down to grab the poor child before he could be further humiliated. After finally being saved from his vicious tormentor, Wyrm decided it was time to go into hysterics, lashing out with a sharp tail to fully show his displeasure. Root simply watched impassively as the rest of the children cheered.

Shade wondered if fifteen dollars was even worth it at this point.

“Alright, alright, enough! Root, you go in time out. We do not waterboard our fellow godlings in grubpaste. Wyrm, calm down, it’s just grubpaste- Settle down!” they yelped out, flinching as something heavy settled onto their head. The soft fluff revealed that Radi had decided to fly out of her pen and taunt Wyrm in person. Shade wanted to sob with frustration.

The door cracked open, and Ghost peered in, head tilted curiously.

Need help? they signed, and Shade wanted to collapse in relief.

“Please,” they begged, and their sibling nodded grimly, even as amusement danced in their eyes. Shucking off their school backpack, they quickly headed over to the other pen and signed to them, bobbing their head up and down in a soothing motion. Grimm and Unn were entranced. Radi less so. She remained seated on their head, but at least seemed to have finally stopped provoking Wyrm.

“I’m just going to clean him up,” Shade explained uselessly, watching as Ghost simply nodded and waved them off. 

With a tired gait, Shade wandered into the kitchen and turned on the tap, listening as Wyrm’s panicked yelps grew louder at the realisation of what was going to happen next. Radi snickered softly, before leaping off and gliding back into the living room.

Bath time, according to the godlings, was a fate worse than death, and something to be avoided at all cost.

Unfortunately for both Wyrm and Shade, it was a necessary evil. Wyrm disagreed. Loudly. And with claws.

He howled furiously as Shade slowly lowered him into the warm water, softly scrubbing at the now-dried grubpaste sticking to his skin. Despite his attempts, Wyrm failed to prevent them from continuing his bath. He turned to pathetic pleading instead, making soft mewling sounds as though he was nothing more than a poor innocent child who had done nothing wrong, ever.

Shade, who remembered the little bastard knocking a glass ornament onto their head, was not convinced. Ultimately there was no escape, and Wyrm reluctantly gave in to the soft scrubbing, though he made sure his rumbling complaints were known.

“Yes, yes,” Shade said quietly, “I truly am the worst. Close your eyes so I can rinse you.”

Wyrm, in a dumb act of defiance, did not close his eyes. The hysterics started again, and Shade contemplated drowning themself in the half-filled sink. Fifteen dollars, they repeated. Fifteen dollars.

Grabbing a tea towel, they quickly dried the godling off, carefully teasing out water droplets from soft scales. He child gnawed on their fingers in revenge. “I’m done,” they announced, wandering back into the living room with a now clean, and furious, Wyrm.

Ghost looked up from their position on the floor, back leaning against the couch as they played with Grimm. Radi immediately perked up at the sound of Shade’s voice, and quickly flew over, making herself at home on top of their head. Unn seemed to have decided to undertake the momentous task of scaling up the back of the couch, leaving a thick trail of slime behind. Root, still stuck in her pen as punishment, let out a wail, demanding to be let out.

Shade was all out of energy to fight back or deal with a tantrum.

“Alright, alright, out you go,” they muttered, depositing Wyrm on the couch before reaching down to lift out the petulant child from her terrible prison. She clung to them desperately until they finally collapsed on the sofa. She quickly wriggled out of their hold and instead plonked down beside them. Wyrm had hissed at the sight of her, and slunk to the other side of the couch to sulk.

Grimm let out a raspy cackle at the sight, before diving down to nip at Ghost’s fingers.

Unn finally made her way to the top of the couch and waved her eyestalks victoriously. All Shade could do was give her a tired pat.

They sank into the couch, the exhaustion creeping back in. It should have been foolproof.

Fifteen dollars.

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

By @arandoskeleartist​

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: I’ve decided to make this five parts instead of four. I was originally going to combine this part and the next one, but I feel like it flows better with a bit of separation between them!

Part One

____

Part Two

The rest of our first afternoon together was spent lazing around. Grayson was tired, but continued to refuse his nap so we kept things low key to avoid any exhausted toddler meltdowns. By the time the evening rolled around, I was tired from the stress of the day myself and since I still had to unpack, I went up to my bedroom shortly after we'd tucked Grayson into bed.

I slept a lot better than I thought I would given everything that was on my mind and when I woke up, I could already hear the sounds of breakfast echoing up from the kitchen. Taking a few minutes to let myself wake up properly, I checked my phone and scrolled through social media before getting up, stretching and heading downstairs.

"Good morning," I smiled, finding Chris and Grayson sitting at the island eating some scrambled eggs while Scott leaned against the counter with a cereal bowl in his hands.

"G'morning, Mama!"

Grayson's greeting was said through a mouthful of food and Chris reminded him that wasn't polite before greeting me himself.

"Help yourself to whatever you want," he insisted. "There's some eggs left in the pan or cereal, whatever you can find. Maybe Grayson will even share his apple slices with you if you ask nicely."

Grayson gasped at that suggestion and frantically shook his head.

"No, Daddy!" He protested. "I don't want to share!"

I laughed as he reached over his plate to move the little bowl of sliced fruit closer to his body where he could keep it guarded.

"Not even one slice?" I asked. "But I'm so hungry!"

"Over there!" Grayson giggled, pointing at the counter.

I turned around and saw a few more apples in a bowl, making me smile as I turned back to the boys.

"But they're not nicely sliced like yours," I pointed out. "How can I eat those?"

Grayson shrugged and plucked one of his apples out of his bowl. He looked smug, thinking he'd won, but he was so distracted while he took a bite that he didn't see Chris' hand sneak over until he'd snatched one of the slices and tossed it to me.

"Catch!"

I did as Chris instructed and Grayson's jaw dropped. An indignant huff fell from his lips as he looked between the two of us.

"That's not nice."

Chris laughed, but I bit back a smile and returned his apple.

"You're right, baby," I agreed, kissing the top of your head. "That was mean, but we were just tricking you. You don't have to share your apple."

"Thanks, Mama."

The frown on his face turned back into a grin and I scraped the rest of the eggs that were in the pan on the stove onto a plate before turning back to the boys once I’d pulled a fork from the drawer.

"So, how do you want to work it with things like groceries while I'm here?"

"Just tell me what you want and I'll order it," Chris told me. "They've started doing curbside pick up pretty much everywhere so I was thinking I'd just do that."

"Oh, that's handy, but I meant like money wise. Should I just transfer you my share or do you want to alternate who pays?"

Chris stared at me for a moment as if he was trying to figure out if I was joking before he chuckled.

"I'm not taking any money from you, Whitney."

His voice was firm, but I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"What? Why not? I can't let you pay for everything."

"You're not still working, are you?" Scott asked. "Or is it different since, as a photographer, you're so far away from whoever you're taking pictures of?"

"I'm not working," I admitted. "I think it would be doable if it was, like, family portraits or something like that, but the big photo shoots involve too many people. Everyone cancelled on me last week or delayed my contracts until at least the summer."

"So, don't worry about paying for anything then," Chris shrugged. "It's not like you're going to eat that much, I think I can handle the cost."

He was trying to do a nice thing. He was a very generous person with those that he cared about, but I wasn't going to take advantage of him.

"I have savings, Chris," I insisted. "I'm not completely helpless."

As if sensing a rising tension, Scott put his bowl in the sink and grabbed his coffee mug before turning to Grayson.

"Hey, Gray, let's go see what cartoons we can find."

Grayson nodded eagerly and Chris helped him down from the tall stool so he could follow Scott out of the room, taking his little bowl of apples with him.

"I wasn't trying to imply that you're helpless," Chris assured me once they were out of earshot. "But you're tiny, I don't think that buying you a few groceries for the next couple of months will financially cripple me."

I tried to temper my defensiveness before I answered him, reminding myself again that he was trying to be helpful.

"I know that, but I don't feel comfortable living here for that long without contributing," I told him. "You already give me more than you need to every month for Grayson."

It was true. Since our custody agreement was that Grayson spent fifty percent of his time with each of us, he wasn't required to pay me any child support. But he did anyway. It was something we’d argued about on and off over the years because the amount that he gave me was way over the top. I appreciated his generosity and I did use all the money to buy things for Gray, but most of it ended up in a bank account that I'd opened for him because there was no way to spend it all in one month without Grayson becoming the most spoiled child in all of Massachusetts.

"I like to make sure he's taken care of."

"Which I am capable of doing with my own money when he's in my care," I reminded him. "But I don't want to start that whole conversation again. I just want to feel like I'm doing my part while I stay with you."

"And I appreciate that gesture, but it won't be necessary," Chris insisted. "You can clean, you can cook, do anything like that to help out, but I won't accept any money, especially while you're not working."

I sighed as he stood up to put his plate in the dishwasher while I put mine on the counter, too distracted by our conversation to eat. I knew it would be a struggle to get him to agree to take money from me, but I wasn't ready to back down so I thought of a compromise and hoped he would accept.

"How about we drop it for now," I suggested. "But if this thing goes on for more than a couple of weeks, can we talk about it again?"

Chris paused and crossed his arms. I could tell that he wanted to argue, but I was relieved when he agreed.

"Alright," he nodded, hesitating for a moment before adding a stipulation to the deal. "But we're going to talk about your car too before you leave here."

"My car? What about my car?"

"Grayson told me that it's not working properly," Chris admitted. "He said it sounds angry sometimes and that you haven't gotten it checked out yet."

I rolled my eyes, guessing that was one of those 'secrets' that he mentioned.

"It's fine," I assured him. "It made a weird sound one time last week when I tried to start it, but it's still working. I was going to take it in, but then all this virus stuff happened and I didn't have chance."

"You need a new one," Chris informed me. "That one is getting old anyway. I'll take you car shopping when things reopen."

I laughed at the absurdity of that statement, but I could see the annoyance on his face at my reaction.

"You're not buying me a car, Chris. The one I have is perfectly fine and if it's not then I will take myself car shopping, thank you very much."

"Why do you get so defensive when I try to help you?" He asked, his eyes shifting into a glare. "I'm not going to accidentally think that you're in love with me just because you accept a nice gesture from me. I can take a hint, Whitney, I get it."

My jaw dropped and I couldn't hold back a disgruntled scoff at his insane change of topic.

"What are you even talking about? This has nothing to do with that," I argued. "I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation if I knew you were going to hold that over me and throw it in my face all the time."

“All the time? This is the first time I’ve mentioned it!”

“Yes, but I’ve not even been here for twenty-fours hours and you’ve already brought it up!”

Perhaps it was my harsh, snappy tone that did it or my very valid criticism of his low blow, but Chris' body language softened.

"I just don't get why you get so worked up when I'm trying to help you..."

"Because I don't need help, Chris," I explained. "I might not be Captain America rich, but I do just fine and I can take care of myself. I can buy my own groceries and if I really needed to, I could buy myself a new car. You throwing money at me for things like that makes me feel like you don't value the success I've had in my career or my ability to manage my finances which is, quite frankly, offensive."

Chris dropped his arms so they were no longer crossed and his shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he'd been getting quite defensive as well and had realized it, whether he would admit it or not. I held my head high, proud of myself for explaining my feelings so well and taking him down a notch, but that feeling disappeared as soon as Chris spoke.

"If you were the richest woman in the world, I would still want to buy you a car," Chris started, looking more nervous than the dismissive, self-assured attitude I was getting moments ago. "I'd still want to buy you anything you could ever need because making you happy makes me happy."

My face fell at his confession and my heart clenched again, knowing what the underlying sentiment behind his statement was. It stung more than any hurtful words could have as the sincerity, the genuine care and appreciation, in his voice was heartbreaking. I regretted not adding a condition to our cohabitation that specified he wasn't allowed to say such nice, guilt inducing things as I stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of this conversation that was more polite than just bolting out the door. 

Too much time was passing as his words hung between us so, short of any good comeback to his words, I shrugged.

"If you want to make me happy, let me contribute for the groceries."

It was Chris' turn to look shocked now, as he was obviously expecting a more thoughtful response to his rather vulnerable admission, but he pulled himself together quickly and a dry laugh fell from his lips.

"Nice try, Whitney," he smiled, shaking his head. "But that's not going to happen."

Without giving me any more time to argue, he turned on his heels and walked out the door leaving me alone to wallow in my guilt and wonder how much longer I'd be able to keep up my act of nonchalance.

-

There was a weird sense of restlessness in the house that day. Usually, killing a few days at home would be no big deal but, as soon as the stay at home orders came into place that morning, the knowledge that we were now unable to do anything else made it feel slightly more suffocating.

Chris wasn't lying though when he said that he planned to make this lockdown as enjoyable as possible so we managed to keep ourselves entertained as we planned out some of the things we could do. Chris and Scott were compiling a list of old movies they wanted to watch again, I ordered a bunch of puzzles and books (some more child appropriate and some for the adults), Chris dug out an old wiffle ball set he had from when they were kids and Scott organized Chris' video game collection, pulling out all the good ones like their favourite: Mario Kart.

By the end of the day, we were all feeling much more optimistic about how our time at home would go. Especially Grayson. It was finally starting to sink in for him that he got to spend the foreseeable future surrounded by all his favourite people - something that was unfortunately a rarity for him given our situation. He was bouncing off the walls as he threw his ideas into the mix and couldn't wait to get started on all the fun.

The excitement of the day led to another early night for him and I excused myself shortly after, declining the invitation to start practicing my Mario Kart skills.

After our conversation that morning, I was trying to keep a bit of distance from Chris. I wasn't mad and it didn't seem like he had any lasting feelings of annoyance either, but our earlier discussion proved to me that there was still tension and resentment between us. I wanted to let it settle and give him some space so our small disagreement didn't turn into a full-blown argument. Living together after everything we'd been through would be an adjustment period and easing into it would probably be the safest route.

So, I took myself off to my bedroom and lounged in bed watching some new mystery show on Netflix. I started it thinking it would just be a good way to pass a few hours until a reasonable time to go to bed but as usual with Netflix, I got sucked in and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.

I closed my laptop, knowing I needed to get some sleep as Grayson was an early riser, but I noticed the glass of water I'd taken upstairs with me hours ago was empty and my mouth was dry. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, taking the glass to the kitchen to fill it up.

I crept down the stairs, assuming everyone would be in bed already, but I was surprised when I got to the kitchen to see the light on. I poked my head into the room and saw Scott sitting at the little island in the middle of the room, a drink in his hand and a melancholy look on his face.

"Hey," I greeted him, alerting him to my presence. "You're up late..."

"I was just FaceTiming with my boyfriend. He's in LA so it worked with the time difference."

"Boyfriend?" I questioned as I headed over to the sink to fill up my glass. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"It's pretty new," he sighed. "We've only been together about a month now."

"That's so exciting! You didn't want to stay in LA and quarantine with him?"

"No, we thought it was too fresh for us to, like, fully move in together and if I was in LA and not living with him then we wouldn't see each other anyway, so I decided I may as well come here."

"That's really hard," I frowned as I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. "I'm sorry that you had to make a decision like that."

"It's alright," he shrugged despite the sad look on his face. "A lot of people have had to make much tougher decisions than that lately."

"That doesn't mean you can't be upset anyway."

"I know, but I'll be alright. I'm just glad we've got so many ways to stay in touch." He flashed me a smile and I was glad to see it. Scott was a good guy and one of those people who was usually so positive and upbeat that it was hard to see him feeling down. "What about you? How are you doing with everything?"

"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "Do you mean the deadly virus plaguing the world? Or the fact that I'm in lockdown with the father of my child who I have a fairly complicated history with?"

"Both," Scott chuckled as he sipped his drink of what looked to be whiskey. "But I was more referring to being here in lockdown with Chris."

"It's hard, but I'm doing okay. It's just a weird situation."

"It'll definitely take some time to get used to for both of you," he nodded. "He felt really bad this morning. He told me what you said about how offensive it is when he throws money at you all the time and I totally agree, but I hope you know his heart was in the right place. He tells everyone how talented you are, he would never want to belittle your career."

"I know," I winced. "I overreacted a little bit."

"No, not at all!" Scott assured me. "He needed to hear it. I've been on the receiving end of it too so I know how you felt, but he doesn't realize how it comes off some times. He's just trying to be generous and help the people he loves."

I nodded and I knew that I should just end the conversation there. Tell him that I understood what Chris' intent was and leave it at that. But my heart overpowered my brain and I found myself opening up before I could stop myself.

"I just don't exactly deserve to be on that list," I reminded him. "And I shouldn't take advantage of any feelings he might have for me after the decision that I made."

"You really do deserve to be on that list," he told me with a smile. "He's really in love with you."

"Love might be a bit extreme," I scoffed. "He's made his feelings clear, I know he cares about me, but it's not love."

"He's not made his feelings clear enough then," Scott countered. "Because he's been head over heels in love with you since pretty much the moment he met you."

My mouth went dry as my brain fought to comprehend that claim while all my instincts were telling me that it wasn't true. Scott wouldn't lie to me, he wasn't that kind of person, but he could be exaggerating especially since he had been drinking. There was an honesty in his eyes though, a look that told me he was telling the truth, but I couldn't accept it, it just didn't make sense.

"That's not true," I argued. "He only ever saw me as a friend until that one night and that night was a mistake."

But Scott was confident in what he'd shared and he shook his head.

"He never saw you as just a friend. You were his endgame from day one."

Perhaps it was a delaying tactic, perhaps it was a nervous response or I was subconsciously trying to buy myself some time to make sense of what he was trying to tell me, but a giggle slipped out at Scott's choice of words.

"Endgame? Is that an Avengers joke?"

"It wasn't intentional," he assured me with a laugh, but he was quick to get us back on topic. "But I mean it. We had a conversation just a few weeks after you met and he was talking about you like you hung the moon. He's been enamoured from the start."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. He was speaking with such confidence, but the words he was saying might as well have been another language. Knowing what I knew about our situation, how things had unfolded between us, how that first night together went down and the aftermath of it, there was no sign that Chris had been in love with me. He cared about me, that much I knew, but to be in love? That didn't add up.

Especially when I'd had those feelings all along as well. Surely, I would have noticed had they been reciprocated.

I'd fallen silent as my brain buzzed, scrambling for any gesture or obvious evidence that I'd missed that might prove Scott's claim, but when he spoke again, I was pulled from my thoughts.

"Do you not feel the same way about him?" He asked. "And there's no judgment here, I can see both sides. I love Chris and I want him to be happy, but I respect what you're trying to do."

I felt my heart rate spike again as my palms grew sweaty in a way that was becoming annoyingly familiar.

I was aware of the importance of this conversation, but I was also aware that I wasn't having it with the right person. If Scott was being honest then Chris must have had his reasons for not sharing the depth of his feelings with me and it felt sneaky and deceitful that I was finding out from someone else. It also felt wrong that the answer to Scott's question was on the tip of my tongue. Chris deserved to know before his brother, but I was tired. Fighting through this mess all by myself was wearing me down and Scott had always been one of those people that compelled you to pour your heart out to him. He was a better listener than most and I needed someone, anyone, to give me some kind of guidance. So the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"I do feel the same," I admitted, my eyes firmly locked on the glass of water on the table in front of me as I worried I'd be too anxious to speak if I looked Scott in the eye. "I love him very much."

"Then why are you so scared to give him a chance?" He questioned. "Just because of Grayson?"

I nodded, but even I was starting to doubt my own motivations.

"We work together so well right now, but if we give it a shot and someone ends up getting hurt then we might not be able to put our feelings aside and keep things peaceful."

"But aren't you hurting each other every day that you spend in love with each other, but not together?" He pointed out. "Yet, you manage to put Grayson first through all that pain."

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head.

It was an excellent point.

We were both hurting from being apart, it was clear from how defensive we got over silly little things like we had that morning. I could only imagine how Chris felt, but it was hard for me to be around him all the time and just keep things friendly when in my heart I wanted more. I ached at the sight of him every time I dropped Grayson off or picked him up, but we still managed to be friendly and polite through that.

"How many of those drinks have you had?” I teased earning a laugh from Scott. “They’ve made you too wise.”

"Not enough," he joked. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"It is true, but it's different," I insisted. "If we were together and broke up, that kind of hurt can come with a lot of anger. Right now, we might be sad or disappointed about the situation, but there's no anger."

"Oh, there was anger," Scott informed me, grimacing slightly. "After Christmas, when he came back from dropping Grayson off at your house there was definitely anger. He slammed doors, stormed around the house, got drunk off his ass and ranted about it for hours. I've never seen him that upset over being turned down before."

My heart sank at that news. I knew that he'd been upset, but I didn't think he'd taken it that badly. I thought he was just a bit sulky, but now my guilt intensified.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion. "I feel bad enough as it is..."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to make you feel bad," Scott assured me, reaching over to rub my back as I forced back the tears that had sprung to my eyes. "But it proves that even if one of you ends up heartbroken, you can still put Grayson first because you just did it."

"I didn't, Chris did," I pointed out after clearing my throat. "If it wasn't up to me, if Chris came to his senses and ditched me for some beautiful actress, then I'm not sure that I could be so forgiving."

"Why would he ditch you?"

As promised, there was no judgment in Scott's voice, just genuine curiosity and I shrugged as I answered.

"Because he could have any woman in America."

"Maybe not any woman, let's not get carried away," Scott smirked, his teasing tone making me smile. "But for such a relationship loving guy, don't you think it's interesting that he hasn't been in a serious relationship in about five years?"

That wasn't something I'd put much thought into, but it wasn't the 'gotcha' moment that it seemed like Scott had hoped it was.

"Not really. He's been busy with work the last few years," I pointed out. "And having a baby with me must have complicated his personal life a bit."

"You complicated his personal life the moment he met you," Scott insisted. "That's my point."

He sounded so sure of himself, but the words he was saying were still hard for me to comprehend. I'd always been so confident in my understanding of our relationship and if I was to believe him, it would shatter everything I thought I knew.

"I just don't see why he wouldn't have mentioned this by now..."

"You know how he gets with his anxiety. He's not always the over confident hotshot that people assume he is," Scott reminded me. "But you'll have to talk to him if you want more information than that."

I let out a sigh as I knew he was right.

"There's a lot that we need to talk about," I admitted. "Thank you for this though, Scott, you've given me a lot to think about."

"Anytime," he smiled. "And I completely respect that you're willing to put Grayson first despite whatever feelings you have. You're a wonderful mom and I would be proud to call you my sister-in-law."

I laughed at his outrageous leap from even considering a relationship straight to marriage and shook my head.

"You need to go to bed, Scott," I instructed. "You've clearly had too much to drink tonight."

"I probably have," he agreed. "But I meant everything that I've said. Think about it, okay?"

I nodded as I slid off the stool I was sitting on, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

"I'm here for you too, you know that right?" I asked as I stepped back. "If you ever want to talk about your situation or vent and complain about the distance, whatever you need, I'm here."

"Thanks, Whitney," he smiled before dragging himself off his stool as well. "Goodnight."

I returned his smile and mumbled a 'goodnight' of my own before heading back to bed with all the new information that Scott had provided echoing around in my head. While it had been a very informative conversation, I wasn't quite sure whether I came away from it with the clarity I was looking for or just more confusion.

-

Part Three

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7​ @hockeychick10

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper - Part Twelve

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of drug use, fluff, smidge of angst? Length: 1.7k Notes: Managed to whip up this bad boy during a quiet moment today and should probably make y’all wait for it but I don’t really do posting schedules (as you’ve noticed) so enjoy. Not beta’d, not proof read, I’ll die on this messy hill.

Series Masterlist

Surprisingly, life didn't change too much after that night. Frankie continued to run his acreage and oversee the making of this year's cider. With some encouragement and support from you, he was starting to expand the business and already had a few pubs in the closest city clamouring to have his product on tap.

Meanwhile, the improvements on the house were nearing an end, for the indoors list anyways. The first thing Frankie had helped you do was to install your new soaker tub, immediately followed by christening it by making soft, slow love to you inside of it.

There hadn't even been any water, your impatience to be close to each other wouldn't allow for that. You had just stripped out of your coveralls, convenient work-wear for people who fucked like rabbits you had to admit, and sat in his lap with your arms and legs wrapped around him. His hands guiding your hips in a slow rocking motion, breathing each other's air as your open mouths hovered in a not-quite kiss, only breaking eye contact when you threw your head back as you came.

Autumn passed quickly and Winter had gripped Vermont, cloaking the countryside in a heavy blanket of white. Christmas was a cozy affair, you and Frankie had been asked to join Jacquie and Mark in their family's merriment. It had stirred something inside of you, watching a functional family laugh, sing, argue, eat, and love with such abandon. 

It was everything you'd dreamt, initially, for your future with Brad. Now? Now you were starting to picture that future with Frankie's face as the patriarch, you just haven't built up the nerve to broach the subject yet. 

You'd started working at the bakery, enjoying the early mornings surrounded by rising dough and sculling back coffees with the adorable older ladies who ran the place. You'd also begun doing the books for Morales Acres and Catfish Brewery. Frankie was a veritable genius but he claimed he had no patience for keeping receipts and tracking numbers.

You had a sneaking suspicion he was playing dumb in an effort to give you more time together but you really didn't mind. Your break-of-dawn mornings at the bakery had you tired, but after a full day of renovating or bookkeeping, you were downright exhausted and ready for bed by eight pm. This, mixed with Frankie monitoring the brewing, bottling, and distribution of his cider and networking at bars and pubs throughout the state meant the two of you rarely saw each other.

All of your hard work in your own house had made you a popular friend to call when someone needed decorating advice, or a helping hand once they realized they couldn't tile their kitchen backsplash solo. You never charged for your time, although payment had initially been offered until work had got around that you preferred a good meal and conversation over money. I mean, sure, you could use the cash but it just didn't seem right. And you loved helping people and making deeper connections with the town you now truly felt you belonged in.

Tuesday evenings had become an unofficial date night for the two of you. The bakery was closed on Wednesdays and bar owners tended to be less interested in business halfway through the week, something to do with the rush of the previous weekend having worn off and the worry of setting up for another one starting to grow.

This meant you could stay up late, enjoy a proper homemade dinner, maybe even watch a movie or share a bottle of wine while soaking in your big ass tub. It usually ended as a sleepover, your house being the preferred location; Frankie's loft was perfectly fine but it did lack a certain homey appeal.

This pattern, this life, that you'd created for yourself was making you happier than you'd ever been in your entire life. You weren't one hundred percent content, not yet anyway, but the path to getting there was on a direct trajectory. You still wanted to finish your college degree, maybe switch it over to horticulture. Building a greenhouse and selling flowers was still a pipe dream but something your heart truly longed for, something that Frankie was constantly encouraging you to do.

"Look, hun," he had called out to you a few weeks ago while supposedly researching the new line of bottles. "There's an auction next county over and they have all this confiscated stuff from a grow op that got busted!"

"What?" You'd made a face and laughed at the absurdity of it all. "What on earth would you use from a pot farm?"

He just gave you a salacious wink as an answer.

Frankie had been open about his past drug abuse and while some recovering addicts may want all mention of it banned from a conversation, Frankie found levity in treating the topic like any other person would.

It had taken you a couple of hours to realize why he'd brought up the auction. It had hit you with a jolt, knowing that he’d remembered your rambling from on top of the Ferris wheel. You didn't realize he'd been listening when you'd told him about your idea of taking over the flower stand at the market once the current couple retired.

Your heart had swelled and there was a concerted effort to prevent the sudden onset of tears from running down your face. God, you loved this man, maybe one of these days you should tell him...

This particular routine was working well for the two of you. It gave each of you your own space to relax, destress, enjoy the shitty tv shows you were too embarrassed to watch in front of another living person. It also forced the two of you to take your relationship slowly, communication being a constant learning curve. You were both really good and telling each other when you needed time alone, when you were feeling stressed or sad. You each had learned the tells for when the other was angry or just hungry, if it was hormones or if there was something that was actually pissing you off.

The thing you each seemed to struggle with was expressing the softer side of the relationship. Neither of you appeared to have the Words of Affirmation love language skill, yet you both craved to hear it. You showed how much you cared for Frankie with your acts of service; helping him with the boring side of the business, baking, deep cleaning the loft, even scrubbing out the massive fermenter in the Catfish Cider warehouse.

Frankie, on the other hand, showed his love through physical touch. At first, you had assumed it was a staking-his-claim kind of thing but then you noticed how he'd do it all the time. A hand on your lower back while walking, caressing your hand with his thumb when driving in the truck, carding his fingers through your hair while you watched tv.

This week's date night found you at his place, relaxing in the loft after a busy workday. You were making dinner while he 'helped' by sneaking bites of the prepped ingredients, arm slung around you with a hand in your back pocket.

"What're you looking for?" He asked, taking advantage of your distracted searching through his cupboards to sneak a few more pinches of grated cheese.

"A can opener!" You replied, exasperation raising your voice an octave. "I could have sworn I saw a white one around here somewhere..."

“No, pretty sure that one's yours. I don't think I have one?"

"Frankie," you deadpanned "how did you survive as a bachelor without canned food?"

"I ate a lot of take-out?" He looked indignant at your laughter, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Can you stop judging me long enough to eat some burritos?"

Smoothing his playful scowl with a kiss, you sat down at the counter and enjoyed your first meal together of the week.

An idea was formulating in the back of your mind, though, and you barely tasted anything. As the evening progressed, the idea grew and you were liking it more and more. The final straw was you not having a toothbrush in his bathroom anymore, having forgotten that it had fallen off the counter and into the trashcan the last time you'd spent the night.

Using his, with a strange mixture of distaste and nonchalance, before making your way over to the bed, you began to plan how the conversation could go:

Hey Frankie, so you know how I have a big house all to myself? Yeah... And it had everything we need in it? Yeah... And there's more than enough room for two adults to store all of their things? Yeah... And I wouldn't have to use your toothbrush ever again? Yea- wait what? I think you should move in with me.

It wasn't very romantic but it was the most likely, considering your dynamic. Just as you were crawling into bed and snuggling under the arm he'd raised to allow you to get closer, his cell phone rang.

"Hello? - This is he. - Yeah, biological. - Oh god, when?"

The immediate change in his tone from questioning to horrified caught your attention, sitting up to face him you grabbed his free hand, silently letting him know you were there for support.

His eyes were out of focus and a panicked expression was slowly morphing his face as the conversation went on, but he gave your hand a squeeze back in acknowledgement.

"Yes, in Vermont. Do you have my address? - Okay, good, good...okay - When? - I'll have something ready. Umm... does she... does she remember me? - Oh. Okay, thank you."

Slowly lowering the phone from his ear, Frankie sat staring into nothingness for what felt like hours. His side of the conversation and the way he was reacting had you rattled. You could guess as to what was happening but weren't sure if now was the right time to pry.

"Babe? Is, is everything okay?"

Silence.

Gripping his hand tighter and rubbing his back you sat with him for a few more minutes before trying again. You didn’t want to push him but your heart was constricting in your chest from nervousness and concern for him.

"Can I get you anything? What do you need?"

His hand was now completely dead in yours; eventually, he turned his head towards you, eyes never fully focusing, and shook his head.

"I- she- fuck... I think you should go.”

Part Thirteen

[staynskz]

Making Amends

Pairing: Husband Bangchan x Wife female reader

Genre: angst

Word count: 2.5k

Warning(s): None

 Prologue: You and Chan had dated for some time before deciding it was a good time to marry. You both had children soon after marriage; Aris, your daughter, is 5 years old, and Eli, your son, is 3 years old. You both had a wonderful marriage. Compromises were always made to work around everyone’s schedule, but you were sure to make sure everything was always in order around your home. Sometimes, those compromises were you being too forgiving at times. It was hard, but it could be worse. Chan was always helpful, but there were also times where he overworked and forgot to worry about his responsibilities at home. Those were times that got dark and hard for you.

There were so many blessings in your life: your two children, Aris and Eli, your husband, Chan, and so many more people you’ve gotten to know over the years. Sometimes, life would get in the way, but it was so hard to try and smile through it all. You understood that Chan was busy producing and leading the group, but you also knew that there could’ve been ways around both of your schedules to make time for each other. If you could do it, Chan should be willing to compromise too. You felt like you were giving too much time to everyone else but yourself. It was getting harder and harder every day. Chan kept coming home late and was overworking himself, but you loved him too much to bother to ask for any help. The children were still so young, and you wanted nothing but to watch them grow up. It was too much now. You were overthinking, weren’t you?

 After finishing the dishes, showering the children, and tucking them into their beds, you finally were able to sit on your bed before ending the night by closing your eyes. You couldn’t close your eyes. You didn’t know what tomorrow held. Chan still wasn’t home either. All of the thoughts in your head brought you to tears. You hadn’t cried like this before. You were broken, burnt out, and exhausted. Being a loving mother, doting wife, and friends to others was too much now. You could only keep crying into your hands. It felt like it was nonstop. You weren’t you anymore; you’d changed. Wanting to avoid getting puffy eyes in the morning, you decided to get up and clean your eyes before going to bed. As you looked up, you saw a figure that made you jump from shock. It was Chan. Trying to wipe your tears away before he could see them, you smiled at him saying, “hi babe, you’re home early.” He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you. He knew you were hurting. You always did that. You hid your pain regardless of how much it hurt you to keep it altogether. To avoid the worried stare he had in his eyes, you got up to go to the bathroom. Hurrying past him, you hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about your crying. Chan knew how to read the room. He knew that you didn’t like to talk about anything until you were ready. “Babe…why were you crying?” he asked quietly. Darn it! He asked! Shit! Shit! Shit! What do you say? Turning around, you saw that Chan was still staring at the bed. Before more tears could form, you assured, “I was just watching a really good movie. It touched my heart, so I’m just relaxing from it.” “You don’t cry like that over movies, Y/N…” “Well this just reminded me of a lot of sad stories I’d heard about,” you were doing anything to lie to avoid a scolding from Chan about you not opening up to him about your problems. “Y/N-” “I’m telling the truth, Chan, it’s not that serious-“ was all you could muster before he turned around and stared at you. That stare was like nothing you’ve ever seen before. He was so tired, yet so worried about you as well. His eyebags were dark and bigger than the night before. You just hoped that he would let it slide. You went silent. When Chan looked at you like this, you were unable to lie and say that you were okay. He knew you, inside and out. You were both inseparable-soulmates as some would say. The red string that ties your souls together was being pulled from you both and drawing you far away from each other. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You know I don’t like it when you lie. We said we would be open and honest from the day we’ve been together until now. There’s nothing that we should be keeping from each other.” “Chan, I…” Should you keep lying until you get out of this rut? You were able to fool Chan for awhile sometimes, but this time it wasn’t going to work. “I’ve just been stressed…” “Stressed about what?” he asked as he slowly approached you. “About everything, honestly. There’s so much that I need to take care of, and the kids are still growing up, and I’m trying to make dinner every night, I’m trying to sleep every night, I’m trying to make sure you’re doing okay, I’m trying to make sure all of my duties at work are complete before the day ends, it all just keeps going around and around, Chan. It’s never going to stop. And… it feels like you’re not here to help me, Chan. I feel so alone, and I’m trying to make sure everyone’s doing okay while I’m not okay…” Chan was always a good listener; whatever problems you had, he was there to offer knowledgeable advice. He was silent this time around. You looked up at him staring straight down at you. “So, you’re saying you’re mad at me?” “Wait, no. Chan, I’m not-I mean-I am, just a little bit, but-” “Why didn’t you just say it then? You know that you could’ve just told me. I’m always here to listen to whatever problems you have, babe.” “Well… you’ve been so busy producing that I didn’t want to bother you at all. I wanted to make sure you weren’t stressed for whatever project you have going on at work.” “But we said-” “Yes, Chan. I know what we promised each other when we got married, but sometimes it’s not enough for-” “So you think I’m not doing enough?” “What? No. Chan, I didn’t mean it like that.” “You could’ve just said it to me if you wanted me to do more, Y/N. You know that I love you and I want what’s best for our family. Why do you-” “How am I supposed to tell you when you’re always busy, Chan?!” There it was… your limiting point. You hated it when people asked you why you didn’t say anything in the beginning. You were too considerate for your own good. “How am I supposed to talk to a husband who’s never home?! My husband isn’t home to help me cook dinner, bathe the children, and can’t even get home to eat least enjoy dinner with me?!” “Oh, so you ARE mad at me. Well, if you said anything to me, I would’ve-” “Stop saying that! Stop saying that if I said something you would’ve done something, Chan! You know that I’m busy, yet you leave me home with the children to care for, and I do everything for this house! If you truly cared, you would’ve SEEN that I was exhausted from doing this all on my own!” “Well, I’ve just been-” “Sometimes, it doesn’t even feel like I’m a married woman, Chan! These women out here have husbands who worry about them, who take care of them, who do everything they can to make a house function, but you just worry about work! Do you even care about us?! Your wife who works AND cleans your house?! Your children who barely get to see you as they’re growing up?!” You weren’t thinking clearly. You were angry. You were angry at life, the world, and especially Chan at this moment. You didn’t think those words would come out of your mouth, though. You never meant to say hurtful things to each other, but stressful times would sometimes get the best of you both. Chan scoffed at your response and walked backwards toward to closet. “Well, I’m sorry that you feel like a single mother, Y/N. Sorry that I can’t be the perfect husband for you or be the perfect father for our children.” “Chan…I didn’t mean that. I-” “We’ll just leave it at that,” Chan said as he grabbed his suitcase and jacket, leaving the bedroom. You knew where he was going… back to the studio to produce more. You were frustrated as hell, but you had work in the morning and were already tired from the day, so you decided it was time to call it day and slid into the covers to sleep.

 Over the next few days, you and Chan barely spoke to each other. You didn’t want to speak to an angry Chan, and hurting him with your words was enough. However, the kids were able to sense the tension between you and Chan. They knew that on normal days, mommy and daddy would wake them up, and everybody would get ready together. On normal days, mommy and daddy would cook dinner together with daddy back hugging and kissing mommy until mommy had to kick him out from being too annoying. When cleaning after dinner, mommy and daddy would have a dance session in the kitchen. On normal days, daddy would put on a show for them, and have them all tackle and tickle mommy until mommy gave up laughing. On normal days, daddy would come home from work early, and daddy would share what daddy created in the studio. The past few days weren’t normal. Aris and Eli knew that. Even at a young age, they knew that mommy and daddy weren’t happy. On Saturday morning, Aris asked you, “Mommy… are you and daddy mad at each other?” Lost in your own train of thought, you snapped back into reality as your daughter tapped you for an answer. “Huh? What was that, honey?” “I saidddd are you and daddy mad at each other???” What were you supposed to tell your kids? That you and Chan had an argument? Hell no. “No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry about it, okay? You need to eat your breakfast before you go to uncle Binnie’s, okay?” Eyeing Eli suspiciously, she goes back to eating her breakfast. Trying to hide the tears brimming in your eyes, you smiled at the kids before going back to eating your own breakfast. Today was a Saturday, and you didn’t feel prepared to work at all. You had been hauling your ass around at work for the past few weeks preparing for a project you had to present today. They’d pushed dates around, causing you an even bigger headache, and making you have to change plans last minute. The kids were dropped off at Changbin and his s/o’s house. They’d volunteered to take care of the kids since you and Chan were both working.

 After work, you were on your way to Changbin’s house. Outside his house, you saw Chan’s car parked in front of his house. You texted Chan that the kids were going to be at Changbin’s house, but he never replied. You were surprised he didn’t inform you if he was going to pick them up or not either. Inhaling deeply, you got out of your car and walked towards the front door. Ringing the doorbell, you heard little bits of laughter and shrieking coming from inside. The kids always loved their uncle Binnie; he never failed to entertain them. Chan was the one who came to open the door. You stood by the front door, instructing the kids that their fun time with uncle Binnie was over. Bummed out, they said bye to their uncle and auntie Binnie.

 After tucking the children into bed together, Chan approached you. “Why do the kids know that we’re not happy right now?” “What do you mean? I don’t understand.” “The kids told Changbin that we were arguing and were mad at each other,” he explained. You stood speechless. You knew children would say random things, but you didn’t think your daughter could pick up so easily on small clues. “Don’t act so innocent, Y/N. I know you’re always gossiping on the phone with your girlfriends about how unhappy you are in our marriage.” Those words stung. They hurt even worse than if someone were to take a knife and penetrate your heart with it. “How would I know, Chan?! Maybe it’s because they don’t see their father! Maybe it’s because they know that none of us are happy in this damn house!” “Don’t play the victim. I know that it’s because of your big mouth that our children have to hear about this!” There he was… attacking you again-for something that was entirely out of your control. “MY BIG MOUTH?! I HAVEN’T EVEN SPOKEN TO MY FRIENDS FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS BECAUSE I’VE BEEN SO BUSY! IF YOU ACTUALLY KNEW MY DAY TO DAY SCHEDULE, YOU WOULD KNOW THAT OUR CHILDREN AREN’T DUMB, CHAN! YOU WOULD KNOW THAT YOUR CHILDREN ARE GROWING UP WITHOUT YOU!” He was angry-trying to stay calm, but the silence was from anger, not from understanding nor from love. Where did your marriage go wrong? Where did you both turn into hate-filled lovers, who can’t even speak to each other without raising your voices? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care. You had been patient enough. You were silent for too long. It wasn’t going to change anything. There was so much that you wanted to say, but you knew Chan wasn’t going to do anything either. His compromises were the bare minimum. To hide the tears that were falling down your face, you turned your back towards Chan, and walked out the door. It was hard enough that you felt like a single mother. Before leaving the room, you admitted to Chan, “You know what, maybe I am unhappy in this marriage. I do feel like a single mother taking care of my own children…Maybe it’s time we find new things to do rather than stay in this worthless relationship, Chan.”

Your marriage was failing. Not was… is. Your marriage was something you’d wanted to be so proud of since you were a little girl. You imagined yourself being the caring, doting mother and wife, and being the one everyone else was envious of. It was the total opposite now. Everyone pitied you because you had a husband who didn’t care for you, probably hated you as well. There were so many things going on inside your head, you couldn’t think clearly anymore. At work, you couldn’t focus. The words you’d said to Chan-that you knew pierced his heart as well. You felt so guilty. Was your marriage going to end in divorce? Was it going to be the relationship you promised to never have? Either way, it was going to be one hell of a struggle trying to please everyone’s schedules.

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

Author’s Note: Hi, I’m just barely starting out this series. I’m not sure how many parts I’m gonna write, but hopefully you guys liked it! :) Give me some critical feedback or advice on my writing if you want too! I want to continuously write better!

Tag list: @crispbang 

[taetaespeaches]

“It’s everything to lose.”

taehyung x reader/oc  (but also jimin x platonic reader/oc) genre: angst word count: 6K

a/n: well, this was a process to write lol. Basically, Peaches/reader and Tae are experiencing a mix of feelings due to their best friends’ (Jimin and Dear) break up. Fears of a possible relationship with each other are worsened, plus, Tae and Peaches are just sad because their closest friends are sad. Also, Peaches finally talks to Jimin for the first time after he broke up with Dear, so that’s a big part of this as well. And we get a brief moment between Peaches and Dear, our ride or die duo. Ok, that’s really it. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

Grasping the back of your neck, you massaged your muscles as you yawned, your eyes set on the coffee percolating into the pot. You loved your best friend, and of course you wanted to be there for her, but her post-break up antics were beginning to wear on you as you failed to get accustomed to running on five or less hours of sleep night after night.

Leaning over the countertop, you looked through your most recent texts with your other best friend, Taehyung. The conversation, which started with him bragging about an amazing waffle he had just eaten, had turned a bit sour as you both defended opposing friends in their recent breakup.

It was hard to find common ground with the man these days, as he was on tour with the antagonist of your friends’ little drama, and you were in a constant state of being the shoulder to cry on for the dear protagonist. A sigh slipped from your lips as you scanned through the messages, the grumbling of the coffee pot sounding in the otherwise silent apartment.

You: He dumped her through text while he was away on tour. That’s fucking ridiculous and it’s cowardly.

Tae: You don’t know what’s going through his mind though.

You: There’s obviously not much going through his mind.

Tae: He’s your friend too.

You: And he broke my best friend’s heart.

Tae: I know that. I’m sorry, I hate this whole situation.

You: Me too. I’m sorry and I hate it too.

Tae: Is she at your place again?

You: No, I’m sure she will be but right now she’s out drinking with those stupid friends she has.

Tae: Oh….

You: Yeah. I’m anxious as fuck. I wanted to keep her from going out but you know, I can’t do that. She has to do what she’s gonna do.

Tae: I’m sorry to add to your stress.

Tae: She’ll be ok, Peaches.

You: No, it’s ok, you could never truly add to my stress. You’re my comfort, Tae, you know that.

Tae: I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle like this.

You: I’m sorry you are too. I’m gonna try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night, Dearest.

Tae: Sweet dreams, Peaches.

Craving for two seconds away from the ongoing story of your friends’ turbulent romance, you scrolled up on your text conversation with Tae, a faint smile appearing on your lips at the photo of a waffle the size of the plate it sat upon, followed by a photo of Taehyung shoving a massive bite into his mouth.

Tae: It’s definitely big enough for the both of us but since you’re not here I guess I’ll have to manage it alone.

Tae: I miss sharing breakfast foods with you.

Tae: Never mind, this is so good, I’m glad you’re not here to eat it all.

Your brief moment of relief was broken when your screen changed to display a caller you were not prepared to speak to. Guilt and anxiety settled into your stomach as your breathing hitched slightly at the image of his name and photo. The contact ID reminded you of simpler times, the man pulling a silly expression with his chin tucked into his neck to give himself two of them. He had called you a few times the past couple days, but you’d consistently ignored them, trying to avoid hearing the voice of the man you considered one of your closest friends.

You almost didn’t answer again. Looking to the room your best friend slept in, a serious hangover awaiting her on the other side of slumber, your thumb pressed on the green circular button on the right side of the screen.  

Pausing a moment, you shook your head before raising the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice hushed as to not wake up the girl a few rooms away. A rush of air sounded through the phone, as if the man was sighing in relief, but that was the only response you received. “Jimin,” you sighed.

“Hey,” he spoke quietly, defeat coating his tone. He must not have had the strength to pretend to be ok.  

Another awkward pause ensued, both of you waiting for the other to break the silence first. With another sigh, you stood up straight, turning your back to the counter as you leaned against it. “Can you say something?” You asked.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted lamely, you licking your lips which became quite dry suddenly.  

“You called me,” you pointed out, annoyance in your words that wasn’t intentional but was true to your current mood. “You’ve been calling me for days, but you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t think you’d answer,” he said shakily, and you were sure there were tears bubbling up in his eyes.

Hearing the sadness in his tone, you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to conceal your own emotions in response to his tone. You weren’t sure your feelings even mattered right then. “Well I answered,” you told him, in a sort of assurance. Assurance of what, neither of you were sure, but it allowed Jimin a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” the man whispered, causing you to clench your teeth to hold back your pity and consideration for him as you turned back around to the coffee machine.

“Don’t thank me,” you told him, a slight anger behind your tone. “What do you want to say? I have errands I need to run.”  

As Jimin prepared his words, going through his mind to figure out exactly why he was calling you, you patiently waited, halting your movements as your hand sat on the handle of the coffee pot. You knew he needed time to gather his thoughts, and though you were angry with him, you cared for him enough to give him that. “I just miss you,” he admitted, a crack in his voice indicating the earnest admission.

Taking in a shaky breath, you let it out in a wobbly exhale. “Of course I miss you too,” you said honestly. You refused to lie to him about that. “But I don’t want to talk to you, Jimin.”

His words tumbled out of him bitterly, but it was shrouded in frustration, which you believed to be with himself. “You were my friend first,” he said, uncertain whether he regretted the comment or not.

“I’m still your friend,” you told him adamantly, though your voice was still quiet.  

“Then please talk to me,” he begged, almost desperate for the affection you normally showed him. Well, that you showed him before he broke your best friend’s heart.

“I can’t,” you told him trying to sound stern, but your exhausted state ruining your feeble attempt to put up a front.

A sniffle sounded through the phone, adding to the heaviness in your heart. “Why not?”

Holding the phone to your ear with one hand, you moved your other from the coffee pot to the top of your head as you scratched your roots in frustration and distress. “I can’t risk saying something awful to you,” you confessed through an unsteady voice. And that was it. You were angry with him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. “I love you, you’re one of my favorite people on this entire planet, Jimin,” you cried, your sniffling giving away your emotion to the man on the other side of the phone.

“I’m sorry,” he told you in a rush as you wiped away a tear.

“I see her every day,” you told Jimin in a whisper, ensuring your voice was too low for your friend to hear you if she suddenly awoke. However, you were sure the quietness of your voice was giving away that the woman he still loved was just feet away from you; just feet away from the conversation currently taking place, asleep in your spare bedroom. “I’m so mad at you, Jimin, god I’m mad at you,” your voice suddenly broke, no longer able to hold back the pent-up emotions. If Jimin’s thoughts had strayed to the girl nearby, the sound of your distressed voice surely brought him back to the present conversation; the present state of your friendship. “I need to process all of this before I talk to you because I love you and I can’t say something I’ll regret or something I don’t mean,” you explained as tears spilled over your lash line.

“I understand,” he said roughly, clearing his voice right after as if he was trying to pull himself together for your sake.

“I just-” You paused, holding your breath as you attempted to swallow more tears. “I need time so I can forgive you,” you told him sadly, clenching your fist together as you tried to steady your breathing. “I’m sorry,” you told him, your voice just above a whisper.

“Please don’t apologize,” he begged, choking back a sob. “I get it, take your time,” he assured you. “I’m really sorry for doing this,” he admitted sadly. The man sounded regretful and broken, your pity for him swirling around in the whirlwind of emotions you were currently experiencing. “All of it.”

You knew that was true. You knew he still loved her. And you knew he felt immense guilt for what he did to her, you, Taehyung, your whole friend unit, but mostly her. That much was obvious.  

“I do miss you,” you assured him through a small whimper, choosing to give him the reassurance rather than responding to his apology. “I won’t be mad forever.”

“I miss you too,” he told you sorrowfully. “I’ll be here whenever your feelings change.”

With that, you ended the call, leaving Jimin alone in his hotel room. Setting the phone to the counter, you wiped your face once more before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot, pouring some into the mug you had taken out earlier.

Thinking upon your conversation with Jimin, you wanted nothing more than to scream at him; tell him what an idiot he was. But you also wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him that he would be ok. You were my friend first. You scoffed, thinking of his remark, though a tear slid down your cheek. You wanted to be there for your friend, but how could you be when your other friend was just down the hallway, passed out after a night of trying to numb her heartache through the use of alcohol? He caused that pain. You were right to be mad at him… weren’t you?

It was almost astonishing how things, seemingly meant to be, could fall apart right before your eyes. Things weren’t always easy for Jimin and your friend, but they loved each other. One would think that love would be enough to get them through. But maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe fate isn’t enough.

Fate. Soulmates. They’re interesting concepts. Souls destined to find each other. But the rhetoric surrounding these notions don’t suggest that you’ll end up together.

But maybe if Jimin and your friend could see past everything that went wrong, they would find something worth fighting for still. It wasn’t simple, but it could be simpler for them.  

Something also simple but not simple at all was you and Taehyung. More and more recently, you had been realizing how much you love him. Maybe you both were meant to be together too. Tied together by the fate of your souls. But seeing how things can fall apart, perhaps it’s more risk than it’s worth. Wasn’t it better to have Tae in your life in the role of your best friend than it was to complicate things and lose him? You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t let yourself.

You sniveled as you brought the coffee to your lips, making an attempt at a deep breath before taking a sip. Your emotions needed to be locked down by the time your friend awoke. However, that concern came too late as two arms wrapped around your middle, the surprise affection causing you to jump in start.

The presence of her limbs were tentative as he she carefully rested the side of her face against your back. Breathing out in a huff, you relaxed a bit. “Jesus,” you spoke softly, but your friend gave you no response. Alarm bells went off in your head as her body trembled just slightly against yours. “You ok?” You asked, setting the mug down carefully.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed against you, and as your mind went into high alert, your heart plummeted into your gut. Immediately, you turned in her arms, wrapping your own around the back of her head, holding her impossibly close to you. Sorry?

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured her, leaving a kiss to the side of her head on the top of her hair. “Absolutely nothing.”

“My behavior last night could use an apology,” she admitted, causing you to smile slightly though she couldn’t see it with her face buried against your neck.

“Well, maybe that,” you teasingly agreed, thinking back to the few hours earlier in which you had to drive to the club she was at because she had broken down on the dance floor. All anger, if there was any to begin with, however, had completely dissolved when you pulled up outside the establishment to find her sitting against the wall in the cold, mascara stains down her cheeks as she sobbed about how much her heart hurt. “But are you even apologizing for that?” You asked her, realizing she must have heard you on the phone with her ex.

“Partially,” she cried harder. She knew the strain the breakup had put on all four of you, and though it wasn’t her fault, she still felt guilty. You knew she did. Her heart was too soft for her to not take some sort of blame.

Allowing her to cry in your arms, you moved your hand to the back of her head as you tried to make her feel safe. “You’re gonna be ok,” you whispered to her repeatedly in a gentle tone.

After a few moments, she pulled away to look at you, your thumbs moving to her cheeks to wipe the tears away, though more continued to fall, quickly replacing them.

“How is he?” She suddenly asked you, her lip trembling as she held back a sob.

Scanning her features carefully, you debated your answer. If you told her he was ok, it would make her feel pitiful for not being ok, plus it would be a lie. If you told her he wasn’t ok, it could possibly hurt her even more. Locking your eyes on her pleading ones, you sighed. “About as good as you,” you told her simply, holding back your own tears as she broke down, your arms wrapping around her shoulders to bring her close once again.

Placing a hand back against her head, you held her to you tightly. “Why does that make me feel worse?” She asked against your shoulder, her voice muffled from your sweatshirt.

“Oh babe,” you spoke softly near her ear, a tear slipping from the inner corner of your eye. “Because you still love him.”

You weren’t sure if you should have said that, but it was true. And maybe if she heard it from you, she would face those feelings. As she cried against you, your mind raced over everything that had happened that morning already. Everyone was so broken, and suddenly your mind found its way to Taehyung. Because he was the only one you wanted to talk to in that moment. He was your comfort.

But what if you didn’t have him anymore? Two people as meant to be as Jimin and the girl in your arms couldn’t even make it work. Add in your fickleness in love, and where did that leave your odds at success with Tae? You refused to break him, and you couldn’t lose him. You just couldn’t.

Hauling your groceries through your apartment, your phone started ringing in your pocket. Rushing to the kitchen, you set the bags on the floor before grabbing the device, finding Tae on the other side of the video call.

Accepting it, you waited for his face to appear on the screen before greeting him. “Hi,” you answered in a huff, Tae immediately chuckling at your hectic state.

“Hey,” he greeted, “Are you busy?”

“No,” you shook your head, dropping the phone to the counter just after speaking the word, causing the man to giggle further. “Just got home from grocery shopping,” you told him as you discarded your bag off your shoulder and onto the countertop. Taehyung hummed in response just as you propped the phone up against the side of your bag, situating it so he could see you as you stood in your kitchen.

“Did you get anything fun?” He asked, as you scanned the bags on the floor.

“Um,” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I got those cookies you like,” you spoke through your exhale, looking at him through the screen to take in his appearance. “You look handsome,” you told him, the man smiling slightly at you as you stared at his still damp hair atop his head, giving away that he had showered recently.

“You tired?” He asked suddenly, being met with your groan as you stared down at the groceries without moving. “What happened last night?”

“Well, she went out with those friends and of course it was too soon for her to be out partying and I had to pick her up at 2 am outside of the club because she had a break down,” you ranted to him as you knelt down to begin taking items out of the grocery bags.

“Jesus,” he sighed, your eyebrows raising at his response.

“What?” You questioned defensively, piling items onto the floor as you emptied all the bags.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he tried to evade your anger. “I’m assuming she’s not there right now?”

“No, she went back to her place for a bit,” you told him. “What was with the judgmental tone just now?” You pressed.

Looking up at the phone, you watched as shook his hair out with his hand. “It’s just, that’s not really fair to you, is it?”

Scoffing at him, you stood, not bothering to look at the phone as you brought some juice and a few other items to the refrigerator.

“I just mean, you deserve some rest,” he added. “A break maybe.”  

“Well I don’t get a break because your best friend broke up with mine and she’s devastated,” you said coldly, shutting the fridge door and turning back to face the device.

“He’s your friend too,” he reminded you, his eyebrows raised, causing you roll your eyes.

“I know that,” you said in annoyance. “But you don’t see what she’s going through every day,” you pointed out, feeling protective over your friend and her broken heart.

Reaching to grab a box of crackers off the floor, you headed toward the cupboard as Taehyung told you, “You really should talk to him.”

Letting out a dry laugh, you nodded to yourself. “Tae, she’s my best friend,” you reminded him once more.

“I get that, but he’s your friend too,” he repeated, causing you to sigh. “He’s going through stuff too,” he added. You wanted to scoff, but if you were being honest with yourself, your anger towards Jimin had diminished significantly since speaking to him briefly that morning.

“Well,” you thought out loud, facing the man once more. Folding your arms over your ribcage, you shrugged. “I’m sure he is but he did this,” you said, trying to remain firm in your coldness.

You were met with the sound of Taehyung breathing out slowly as his eyes stayed locked on you. “That’s not really fair, he’s hurting too,” Taehyung defended his friend.

“I love Jimin,” you clarified. “But I don’t have time to think about him when she’s at my place all the time because she can’t handle being alone in her own apartment for a single night,” you told him, staring at him as you waited for him to respond. Taehyung ran his tongue over his bottom lip as you sighed. “I know Jimin is hurting, but she is too. And it’s bad, Tae,” you told him sadly.

Taehyung sighed as you stared at him through the phone, waiting for his next words. “I know, I don’t mean to be insensitive to her. I know he hurt her, I get that. I’m just here with him and he’s a fucking mess,” Tae huffed. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted sadly, giving you a defeated shrug.

Stepping closer to the phone, you shook your head slowly. “I don’t either,” you admitted. You both sat in silence for a moment, watching each other through opposite sides of the phone, your remaining groceries still waiting on the floor.

Taehyung was the first to break the silence, asking, “What are you thinking?”

Sighing, you ran your hands over your face. “I don’t even know, I’m just-” you stopped yourself, not sure if you should speak your next words; because of the implication to you and Tae.

“What is it?” He pressed, resituating himself on the bed as he sat laid across a pillow, his head supported by his hand. “Peaches,” he said gently, causing you to relent.

“Maybe they shouldn’t have ever gone from friends to more,” you thought aloud, Tae’s silence feeling heavy on your heart as he tried his best to keep his face from giving away any emotion.

“You think?” He asked simply, his feigned indifference covering up the hurt you knew was there.

“It’s just a hard leap to make,” you explained, leaning against the counter on your elbows, holding your chin in your hands. “If it doesn’t work, this is where it leaves you.” Your eyes were glued to the phone as you watched him carefully. Suddenly, you felt angry at these fucking phone companies who couldn’t make a better camera or give you a better connection to be able to read the emotions flashing through his eyes and features more closely.

“Sometimes it works though,” he told you quietly, his voice nearly shaking, almost as if he was meekly defending himself.

A lump formed in your throat that you didn’t believe you’d be able to ever swallow, knowing you were the cause of the sadness he was feeling. “But if it doesn’t, that’s a lot to lose,” you argued, your voice faint as the emotions sat in your vocal chords.

“But it can work,” he said a bit louder than his last comment, his voice more assured as he licked his lips.

“Tae,” you sighed, cocking your head to the side just slightly. You both knew you were no longer talking about your friends’ experience with moving from friends to lovers. There had never been any confirmation from either you or Taehyung, but sometimes it seemed as though there was an unspoken understanding of how you both thought of each other.

“Look at Jin,” Taehyung countered, pointing to the fact that Jin and his old friend had successfully added romance to their relationship over a year earlier. “They’re doing really well, they’re happy.”

“Tae,” you called out to him gently, attempting to swallow as your eyes shined with emotion. When he responded with his silence, his sad eyes scanning over your features carefully, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to hold in your emotion. “It’s a lot to lose,” you whispered, holding his gaze. “It’s everything to lose,” you added, blinking a few times as Taehyung looked down to the bed and began picking at the comforter. A few seconds of silence went by and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you suddenly exhaled, feeling breathless and tired. “Dearest,” you addressed him softly.

“No, you’re right,” he said half-heartedly, keeping his eyes directed downward. “It is everything to lose,” he agreed with a small nod, looking up to you.

“Everything, Tae,” you emphasized, hoping he would recognize that he was everything to you.

“You really should talk to Jimin,” he changed the topic, his tone stronger as he seemed to easily move on from your unspoken confessions. Inhaling deeply, you nodded slowly, standing up straight before moving back to the groceries. Trying to shake yourself out of the conversation that just took place, you spotted the cookies sitting on the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” you replied before reaching for the package. “I’m not gonna save you any of these,” you teased, holding them up for him to see as his lips spread into a mildly amused grin.

“Well I didn’t save you any of the waffle so it’s only fair,” he played along, both of you pushing aside the tension between you both once more.

You would think about talking to Jimin, you meant that. But it would be hard to think of anything but Taehyung.  

With your thumb hovering over the call button, you sighed deeply as you tried to muster up some courage. Lowering your digit to the phone screen before you could change your mind, you nervously raised the device to your ear.

The rings were deafeningly loud as you awaited the answer, running your hand through your hair and chewing on your bottom lip; nervous gestures.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted suddenly, his voice appearing breathless as if he rushed to the phone.

“Why’d you do it?” You asked him, skipping greetings and pleasantries. A moment of silence encased the phone call before Jimin sighed.

“I don’t even fucking know anymore,” he said, a sob following the words as if he had been sitting on the edge of a break down for days; weeks. The confusion and heartbreak in his tone shattered your heart, filling you with guilt for evading his calls and texts for so long. “I don’t know if there was even a valid reason and I regret it so much.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” you admitted, thinking back upon their relationship and what they had revealed to you.

“Me either,” he barely spoke through his cracked voice. “I don’t know, it’s like, as secure as we made each other feel, it was like we could never fully rid ourselves of our own insecurities,” he explained through his cries. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked as he held back tears.

“Oh Jimin,” you sighed, realizing what drove them apart. And suddenly, you had the urge to wrap them both up in hugs because in an instant, there was nowhere to place the blame you were previously placing on Jimin. It was both their faults, and also no one’s fault. Jimin had made the wrong move, your best friend didn’t make enough moves, and yet they were both just victims to their own intrusive perceptions of themselves.

“Our own shit just got in the way and-” he let out a harsh breath. “When I sent the text I immediately regretted it and I was just trying to convince myself that it was for the best,” he sniffled. “And I was about to take it all back and beg for forgiveness, fuck, I was thinking about leaving tour and coming back to her so we could fix whatever the fuck was causing all of this shit between us,” he paused as his cries took over.

“Why didn’t you take it all back?” You asked him.

You collected up the patience as you gave him time the time to think back on the breakup. “All of a sudden, she just stopped fighting,” he said sadly. “We were always fighting for each other, and she finally stopped. And I don’t know, I think it kind of cemented the idea that I did the right thing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but she accepted the breakup and gave up.”

“Fuck, Jimin,” you held back your tears at the defeat in his voice. “She didn’t stop fighting for you, she just didn’t have enough fight left in her to take on your insecurities any longer,” you told him.  

“What’s even the difference?” He asked. “Whether she stopped fighting willfully, or whether I took the fight out of her,” he scoffed, “I became too much for her.”

“I don’t think you could ever be too much for her,” you assured him. “Look, do you want me to speak to you compassionately or truthfully?” You asked, the question being met with a dry laugh.

“You’re always compassionate, but I want the truth,” he told you, you nodding though he couldn’t see it.

“You fucked up,” you told him, “but also I don’t think this is entirely your fault,” you quickly added. With a sigh, you thought out loud. “How do I word this?” you pondered. “You two are two of the most incredible people I’ve ever known and yet, you guys can’t fucking see it.”

Jimin scoffed, making you roll your eyes. “I said I was speaking truthfully, so just listen to me and try to actually hear what I’m saying for once,” you told him, the man agreeing to listen by giving you his silence. “You see how incredible she is and that makes you insecure because you don’t see yourself living up to what she deserves. And it’s the same for her, she doesn’t think she can be what you need and what you want, despite you assuring her constantly that she’s everything to you. And that holds you both back from being exactly what the other person wants,” you paused for a moment, letting the words permeate Jimin’s brain. “If you two could just be who you are and give each other that version of yourselves, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you explained to him. “She fell in love with you, she just wants you.”

“Fuck,” he sobbed, the pained understanding echoing in his single expression. “But I fucked it up, I hurt her and I don’t think we can fix it this time.”

“I truly do not understand how you can be so wrong about this all the fucking time,” you groaned. “She is in love with you,” you told him, enunciating the words carefully. “You hurt her, and you hurt her bad, but she hasn’t given up on you,” you told him. “Whether she admits it or not, she’s waiting for you to fix it,” you informed the man. “So fucking fix it. Stop holding yourself back and just be happy, Jimin.”

“I don’t know if-”

“Be happy,” you interrupted him. “Stop being so idiotic and just fight for your happiness. Fight for hers,” you begged him, frustration over both of your friends’ moronic actions getting the best of your patience. “You both deserve each other because you’re both the best,” you went on, trying to convey to the man how strongly you felt he and the girl you both adored belonged with each other.

“She still loves me?” He asked, being met with another one of your groans. “Sorry, I just, she does?”

“Do you still love her?” You asked, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it out loud so maybe he could truly hear it.

“With all of me,” he admitted sadly, a sniffle following the words, allowing you to visualize the tears running down his cheeks in that moment.  

“Do you really think that’s one sided?” You asked him.  

“I really don’t know,” he admitted, a small sigh leaving your lips.  

“It’s so simple but you guys make it so complicated,” you complained, the man giving you the slightest chuckle in the form of a single exhale. “You both lost the fight, but you didn’t lose the fight for each other, you lost it to yourselves. Does that make sense?” You asked.

“I think so?” He said, thought it came out as a question.

“You guys were defeated by your own insecurities. It’s not like you chose to give up on her, just like she didn’t choose to give up on you. You both just feel hopeless right now, that’s-”

“It’s not hopeless?” He asked, and despite the negative comment, there was a renewed optimism in his tone that lifted your lips into a faint smile.

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s not hopeless.” You both sat in silence, nothing but your breaths sounding into the phone receivers. “I’ll talk to her,” you assured him. “If I get any sense that she doesn’t want you anymore, I’ll let you know and I’ll be full of apologies and you can hate me forever,” you told him.

“I could never hate you,” he scoffed.

“But if I’m right, which I know I am, Jimin, I know it,” you assured him, “then you need to find that hope and bring it back to her.”

With a sigh, Jimin agreed with a simple, “ok.”

“Ok,” you replied. “Fix it.”

“I hope I can,” he spoke softly, his voice still sad, but much less defeated than the start of the conversation.

“Hope is enough right now,” you told him.

“Thank you for finally talking to me,” he said, a hint of a smile evident in his voice.

“Thank Tae,” you corrected. “He talked me into it.”

“He really is the only one who can cut through your stubbornness, huh?” He asked teasingly, you chuckling lightly in response.

“I guess he is,” you agreed.

“Speaking of simple but making it complicated though,” Jimin noted, drawing upon your earlier words, and reflecting them back on you and your relationship with Taehyung.

“Tae and I aren’t complicated,” you negated Jimin’s observation, only to be met with a disbelieving laugh. “We aren’t,” you remained firm. “I know it seems complicated but, when it comes down to it, it’s the simplest thing ever.”

“Ok, break it down for me then,” Jimin asked for your elaboration. “How is it simple?”

“Because at the end of the day, we just love each other. So much so, that we’ll do anything to keep one another in each other’s lives,” you explained. “And that makes my relationship the simplest, easiest relationship I’ve ever had.”

Jimin hummed in return, thinking over your words. “That does sound simple, I guess,” he agreed. “But are you happy?”

You paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Were you? Were you fulfilled with Tae’s role in your life as you went and dated other people, finishing each escapade craving for more, anxious for the night to be over so you could call Taehyung and hear his voice as he expressed whatever was on his mind? The truth was, no one was or ever would be Taehyung. No matter how great they were, no matter how smart, kind, funny, genuine they were, they would never be him. But Taehyung was in your life, and maybe that was enough. So, were you happy? Turns out that’s the most complicated question you could have been asked.

“This isn’t about me,” you told Jimin with a small smile.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not unhappy,” you said assuredly. That was true, for sure.

“But is that happy?” Jimin pressed, causing you to sigh in annoyance.

“It’s happy enough,” you told him. “But one of us has to be happy, right?” You turned it back on him.

Jimin breathed out your name, but you dismissed him. “This is about you right now,” you told him. “If you fix things on your end, then we can entertain a discussion about my happiness, ok?” You asked him, though it wasn’t really a topic up for debate which he understood.

“Deal,” he agreed with a light chuckle.

Happiness, you thought. What was it? You were sure it was different for everyone. Just as you were sure it comes from many different sources. For you, though, your main source of happiness was seeing Taehyung smile. His happiness mattered most in terms of your relationship. And if he was happy being your friend and having you as his, then you were happy. Happy enough.

If he wasn’t happy… well, something would have to be done about that.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Sense

Two fics in one day, from completely opposite ends of the spectrum, after weeks of nothing from me? More likely than you think. 

Jiang Cheng isn’t entirely sure how he ends up at this party, but he guesses it’s Wei Wuxian’s fault, not that he can spot his brother anywhere at the party.

Jiang Cheng frowns when he remembers that he last saw him making eyes at someone who looked remarkably like a statue and Jiang Cheng sighs.

Wei Wuxian is probably all over that guy now, only to forget about him in the morning and then complain to Jiang Cheng when they guy won’t take a hint.

They have been there, done that; multiple times in fact just in the past few months and honestly Jiang Cheng is tired of Wei Wuxian flirting with everything that moves.

Jiang Cheng looks around to see if he can find anyone else he knows and can tolerate talking to at this boring party, but Nie Huaisang is probably on his best way to be drunk and that’s really all the friends Jiang Cheng has.

He’s resigned to stay on this couch until Wei Wuxian remembers him or is ready to go home and it will probably be a long stay. Wei Wuxian can party all night long if he really wants to and Jiang Cheng curses himself yet again for offering to be the designated driver this evening.

His phone only distracts him for so long, and in the end Jiang Cheng simply observes the people around him.

He spots someone who looks a lot like the guy he saw Wei Wuxian with last, but this guy at least knows how to laugh so they are probably only related and not the same. There’s another guy with him—someone huge and muscular—and even Jiang Cheng can admit that he’s gorgeous, from a purely aesthetical point of view.

Jiang Cheng watches those two for a while longer, making it a game with himself to try and figure out if they are together or not, but when a third man, a lot smaller than the other two, joins them, it gets pretty self-explanatory.

The short guy leans up and demands a kiss or four from smiley guy and tall guy good-naturedly rolls his eyes at them before he leaves them to their own devices.

Jiang Cheng curses his bad luck, because that little game was the most interesting thing he had done the whole evening and now he’s resigned to get bored to death again. He sees the tall guy make his rounds a few times as time continues, and while he seems to be friendly with a lot of people he never stays with a group for too long.

Jiang Cheng tries his best to not be a creep, so he forces himself to let his eyes wander instead of simply watching tall guy all night long, but he most definitely notices when tall guy seems to notice him. The attention comes with a small smile and Jiang Cheng has honestly been to enough clubs and parties to know what this smile and that eye contact means, and he sighs when tall guy starts to make his way over to him.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” is what Jiang Cheng greets him with and tall guy raises a curious eyebrow at him.

“Okay,” he easily says, and Jiang Cheng has to admit that it’s already better than what he normally deals with.

Normally people are angry or try to change his mind, sometimes rather forcefully and Jiang Cheng can’t say that he cares for either, so this reaction is already a nice change of pace.

At least Jiang Cheng thinks that, right until the guy sits down next to him.

“Nie Mingjue,” he introduces himself and Jiang Cheng wasn’t raised as rude as he always likes to pretend so he nods at Nie Mingjue.

“Jiang Cheng,” he gives back and Nie Mingjue makes a little ‘ah’ sound.

“You know Huaisang, right?” he asks then and catches Jiang Cheng off guard with that.

“You’re the da-ge he can’t shut up about?” he wants to know and Nie Mingjue laughs at that.

“Yes, I am,” he confirms and Jiang Cheng takes another look at Nie Mingjue.

Now that he knows what he’s looking for he can see the resemblance between him and Nie Huaisang, but this is still not what he expected Nie Mingjue to look like.

“Nice to meet you, then,” Jiang Cheng says, mostly to have something to say and his heart goes a little bit fluttery in his chest when Nie Mingjue smiles at him and Jiang Cheng catches sight of some dimples.

“Likewise,” he gives back and Jiang Cheng thinks surely this is it, but then Nie Mingjue simply doesn’t leave.

They make small talk at first, and then delve into deeper topics and Jiang Cheng has to admit that talking to Nie Mingjue—even with the horribly loud music making it hard sometimes—is really nice.

They keep at it right until Wei Wuxian throws himself over the back of the couch, his arms circling around Jiang Cheng’s neck and screaming something into his ear.

After that it’s pure chaos, with how Wei Wuxian seems to not only have made friends with the statue from before but also with a handful of other people, and before Jiang Cheng knows it, they are already on their way back to their apartment.

He’s not even sure if he got to say goodbye to Nie Mingjue or not.

~*~*~

“My da-ge wants your number,” is what Nie Huaisang greets Jiang Cheng with the next time they see each other.

“Hello to you, too,” Jiang Cheng gives back, without looking away from his book. “How are you, Huaisang?”

“Drop the act,” Nie Huaisang complaints and throws himself into Jiang Cheng’s lap. “We both know you have never greeted anyone in your entire life.”

“I just greeted you,” Jiang Cheng mildly gives back and then bites back a smile when Nie Huaisang heaves out a sigh.

“Fine, whatever. Can we get back to the topic of my da-ge wanting your number?” Nie Huaisang wants to know and Jiang Cheng finally closes his book.

“What does he want with my number?” Jiang Cheng shoots back and Nie Huaisang blinks at him.

“I would guess he wants to stay in contact? You did meet at the party last weekend, right? He said you talked for a while.”

“And I told him I’m not interested, so I fail to see what he wants with my number.”

“Jiang Cheng, sweetheart, no offense, but not everything is about sex,” Nie Huaisang patronizingly says as he pats Jiang Cheng’s cheek.

“Get off me,” Jiang Cheng complaints and pushes Nie Huaisang’s hand away. “I know that.”

“Ah, but you sometimes fail to understand,” Nie Huaisang gives back. “I know sexual people make it seem like everything is about sex, but it’s really not. I guess he enjoyed your talk and now wants to get to know you better,” Nie Huaisang says with a shrug and finally sits down in a more appropriate manner, that doesn’t mean he’s draped all over Jiang Cheng. “Sometimes two people can just be friends, you know.”

“Fine, whatever, I guess,” Jiang Cheng mumbles but he can’t help the little excited swoop of his stomach.

It had been nice, talking to Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure where he went wrong in his life to deserve this, but he falls in love with Nie Mingjue. Because of course he does.

But how could he not? Nie Mingjue is nice and caring and funny and strong, and he has opinions and is not afraid to stand behind them, but he’s also accepting and very open with his feelings.

Seriously, Jiang Cheng never stood a chance and he will forever curse his luck with love.

He doesn’t even get a few days alone to process the fact that he’s in love with one of his very few friends, because Nie Mingjue is somehow always there; either via phone or personally and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t know what to do with that.

Nie Mingjue likes to check in on him at least twice during a day—more if he knows that Jiang Cheng is being stressed or has exams coming up—and he drops by the apartment at least twice a week.

He claims it’s to make sure that Jiang Cheng is alright, that he’s eating healthy and sleeping well, but if anyone would ask Jiang Cheng, he’d say it’s to torment him, specifically.

It’s not helping his feelings in the slightest to see Nie Mingjue in their apartment or worse, their kitchen, preparing food for Jiang Cheng because he is under the impression that Jiang Cheng is not living healthily enough.

Jiang Cheng would like to kiss him for that, but also kick his ass for it.

It’s a very confusing time.

“Is Wei Wuxian with Wangji again?” Nie Mingjue asks as he settles down next to Jiang Cheng for their bi-weekly movie evening and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Of course he is. Is he ever anywhere else?” he gives back and still can’t believe that Lan Wangji is the brother of Nie Mingjue’s best friend.

It really is a small world.

“Not lately, no,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile and a shrug. “I’m not complaining, though, it gives us more time alone,” he then casually says and Jiang Cheng freezes.

Nie Mingjue has done that a lot lately, saying things like that, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know how to deal with that at all.

And with how close they sit, with how their arms brush against each other, this time must be pretty obvious to Nie Mingjue as well, because he sighs before he turns to Jiang Cheng.

“When will you finally allow me to take you out on a date?” he asks him and Jiang Cheng’s stomach flips in excitement before it drops completely out.

All he can feel after that is anger, though.

“I already said I’m not going to sleep with you,” Jiang Cheng bites out and scoots away, to have a little bit more space, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“I know that,” he gives back. “I was asking for a date, not sex.”

“Yeah, well, I’m never going to sleep with you, so you might as well stop trying now,” Jiang Cheng snaps and he wonders—not for the first time—when his sexuality will not be a problem for once.

“I know what being ace means,” Nie Mingjue says with a small roll of his eyes, completely taking Jiang Cheng off guard. “I know it means not today, or after our third date or on our anniversary. It means you’re not going to sleep with me when I propose, or when we finally get married, and we’re definitely never going to have sex when we adopt our first kid, because I want it to be a small one. We’ll be too exhausted to even think about that,” Nie Mingjue easily gives back and Jiang Cheng gapes at him.

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” he eventually manages to say, but he can’t deny that his heart is hammering away in his chest and that he’s probably completely red in the face.

“Well, the slow approach didn’t get me anywhere,” Nie Mingjue gives back and then simply continues to stare at Jiang Cheng, clearly waiting for an answer.

“How do you know about being ace?” Jiang Cheng finally asks, because he needs a little time to process the fact that Nie Mingjue not only wants to date him, but already has their entire life planned out, it seems.

“Huaisang gave me a whole lecture,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly fondly annoyed of his little brother. “He felt the need to explain my own sexuality to me, because he thought I was in denial. And you know him; once he has found a topic he likes, he gets invested. I think the lecture took three days and there was a test at the end. Can you even believe him,” Nie Mingjue finishes with a mutter and Jiang Cheng blinks.

“How would he think you’re in denial?” Jiang Cheng asks, because he remembers very clearly that Nie Mingjue dropped hints about being gay in their very first conversation during the party, and he fails to see how someone like that could have ever been in denial.

“It was a misunderstanding, actually,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug. “I told him once that I kissed Xichen, but that we are just friends, and the only thing he took away from that was that I must clearly be in denial.”

“But you weren’t?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and he can’t help the slightly bitter sting to his heart at the thought that Nie Mingjue used to be in love with Lan Xichen.

The guy is beautiful, inside and out; Jiang Cheng can’t even begin to compare to that.

“Gods, no,” Nie Mingjue laughs. “He is my best friend. So when he fell in love and was fretting over his lack of experience with kissing I offered that he could practice on me. It was never anything more, and as far as I heard Meng Yao was very impressed.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng breathes out because that makes a lot of sense, but he could also see how Nie Huaisang got the wrong impression from what Nie Mingjue told him.

“I���ve known and accepted that I’m gay since middle school. And Nie Huaisang is my brother; there wasn’t actually much he could teach me still, because he’s not the only one who tends to get obsessed with a topic.”

“So you know what being asexual means,” Jiang Cheng slowly says and Nie Mingjue nods. “So you know it’s never going to happen. I’m not demi, and I’m not going to sleep with you to make you happy or anything.”

“That’s fine. I have a working hand and internet access. I’ve managed to make due until now, so it won’t be a problem.”

Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at Nie Mingjue because he cannot believe that it should be this easy, even though he can’t deny that he really, truly wants it to be this easy.

“What are you going to do if I say no to a date?” he wants to know.

“Then we’re going to sit at this very respectable distance and watch our movie, and I’ll never bring it up again,” Nie Mingjue instantly says and he seems honest about it, too.

“What if I say yes to a date?” Jiang Cheng wants to know next and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“Then I’m going to hug you for a very long time, before I tuck you in right under my arm as we watch our movie. I’m probably going to hold your hand during it, too,” Nie Mingjue says, completely shameless about it and Jiang Cheng frowns for real now.

“Why not kiss me?” he asks, because that would actually be something he wants and if he can’t get that he might jut say no out of spite.

“Because some ace people don’t like kissing. I don’t know what you like yet, so I’m going to go for a hug first,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng flushes bright red again.

“You’re an idiot,” he hisses out, but before Nie Mingjue’s face can fall Jiang Cheng grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him close. “I’ve only wanted to kiss you and your stupid dimples since forever,” he then says, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t even have enough time to break out into a full smile before Jiang Cheng is kissing him.

“Mh, I see,” Nie Mingjue hums when they part and then he dives in for another kiss.

Not that Jiang Cheng is complaining about that.

“So a date?” Jiang Cheng breathlessly asks when they part that time, and Nie Mingjue brings his dimples out again.

Except this time, Jiang Cheng doesn’t have to hold back, so he leans in and kisses Nie Mingjue’s cheek.

“A date. A real one. Not what we’re doing here,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod and a very soft look in his eyes. “I’m going to take you out for dinner and bring you home like a real gentleman.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at that, because Nie Mingjue is truly a ridiculous man, but not so secretly he’s pleased.

“I will hold you to that,” he tells Nie Mingjue and then snuggles right into Nie Mingjue’s side, because cuddles were on the table too, and Jiang Cheng is not about to miss out on that.

“Alright,” Nie Mingjue softly gives back and leans down to press a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.

They start the movie, and Jiang Cheng’s heart goes all fluttery again when Nie Mingjue does reach out for his hand and tangles their fingers together.

“I want a private proposal and two kids,” Jiang Cheng mutters about halfway through the movie and he doesn’t have to see Nie Mingjue to know that he’s smiling. “And only close relatives and friends for the wedding. None of that part of the century nonsense.”

“We’ll get a boy and a girl,” Nie Mingjue agrees and strokes his thumb over Jiang Cheng’s ring finger. “And I’ll go down on one knee. And Wei Wuxian and Huaisang are not allowed to hold speeches at our wedding.”

Jiang Cheng laughs softly at that, because he likes the thought of it, even though he’s pretty sure no power on earth could stop those two from holding a speech.

But it would be a small price to pay for everything else and honestly, Jiang Cheng can’t wait for it all to happen.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[eliemo]

A Private Understanding

Summary: Virgil knows that despite his best efforts, it’s only a matter of time until things go back to how they were. He doesn’t understand how it could work out any other way. 

TWs: past abuse, past gaslighting

Takes place before “Getting There”

Masterpost

Taglist under the cut

Virgil took a breath, hesitating in the kitchen’s entrance, the world outside the mindscape’s windows still dark and quiet. The sun wouldn’t rise for another twenty minutes or so, and that still gave him over an hour before anyone woke up. 

This was...a terrible idea. 

What if he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule? What if the kitchen was off limits until everyone was awake and he just hadn’t realized? What if he made a loud sound and woke everyone up? What if he made a mess? 

What if he managed to ruin everything so horribly the others decided it was one mistake too many and went back on any promises of safety they’d made? 

Virgil knew, somewhere beneath the layers upon layers of rising panic, that he was being stupid. 

He was trying to do something good, for once. They wouldn’t...they wouldn’t hurt him over that. Not even if he messed it up. 

It had been almost a week since Virgil had explained how things were, almost a week since the light sides learned that hitting Virgil was even an option. 

Almost a week of him making countless mistakes, annoying everyone around him, and probably being overbearing and detrimental to Thomas, and still none of them had hurt him. Not even once. 

Virgil of course, wouldn’t blame them if they did. He wasn’t entirely sure how they planned on putting up with him without the use of punishment. The Others wouldn’t have hurt him so often if it wasn’t helpful. 

But the light sides...so far they hadn’t even seemed tempted. They’d all been so nice to him, and never once had they tried to cancel that out to remind him of his place, of how much power they had over him. 

Virgil may be a part of their family now, they may be friends, but he was still Anxiety. They couldn’t just...pretend he wasn’t. 

But then again, Virgil was starting to realize that they weren’t pretending. 

They didn’t treat Virgil like something he wasn’t. They didn’t push him past his limits, they listened to his concerns and fears, they were patient and gentle when his panic got the best of him and clouded his judgment. 

And over and over again, all three of them would tell him that what he went through wasn’t ok. That he hadn’t deserved the hurt and the fear. That no one- not even Anxiety- should ever be punished like that. 

It was everything he wanted, and yet…

He wouldn’t have been hurt for so long if he didn’t deserve it. That didn’t make any sense. So...so maybe they wouldn’t hurt him. They were too kind to lift a hand against him, even something as small as a simple slap. 

But eventually, they’d regret their decision. Nobody wanted him around, especially if they didn’t have a way to take out their frustration. 

And he’d given them a dangerous amount of leverage to use against him. 

He trusted them. He cared about them more than he knew how to say. He’d dropped the tough-guy act in hopes of being accepted, and they’d welcomed him, let him show them just how scared he was. 

Virgil didn’t want to be punished. He didn’t want to be hurt. He’d do anything to keep it from happening again. 

Nothing was more terrifying than the thought of going back, and they knew that. 

He didn’t...actually think they would threaten to send him back. Not really. Not with the risk of his sudden absence affecting Thomas. And...not when there was a slight chance that they might actually like him. They’d certainly seemed pretty upset to learn what the others had been doing to him. 

But it was still a thought in the back of his mind. The light sides wouldn’t hurt him, but if it came down to it, they could just hand him right over to the people who would. 

So obviously, he just had to make sure that didn’t happen. He could do that- and this was a start. 

He’d seen Patton make breakfast countless times, enough that he thought even he had a chance at not fucking up a few pancakes. 

Still, it was a welcome surprise when he didn’t make a horrible mess or end up burning the kitchen down, a plate full of (hopefully) acceptable pancakes on the table by the time sunlight began filtering in through the window. 

He knew they wouldn’t be nearly as good as the ones Patton made, and really there was no way to tell if they would be edible at all, but Patton seemed exhausted lately, and cooking breakfast was the least Virgil could do. 

He rarely cooked, it stressed him out too much with the others looming over his shoulder- there was always too great a risk of spilling something, or being too loud, or dropping a dish or burning the food and making the room smell like smoke…

He’d been punished accordingly for all of that, but this time he’d actually managed to do...not a horrible job. As much as he hated what happened when he messed up, they did keep him cautious of any mistakes.

 He probably would have fucked the whole thing up if their words weren’t constantly ringing in his head. Reminders to be extra careful- you know what happens when you drop something- or to double check the measurements- if you fuck up something this simple, I swear to god we’ll--

“Virgil?” 

Virgil jumped at the voice suddenly behind him, silently relieved he wasn’t carrying anything he could have broken, spinning around to see a clearly only half-awake Logan in the doorway, peering curiously into the kitchen. 

Patton was coming down the stairs behind him, smiling curiously when he saw the two sides already awake, rubbing his tired eyes behind his glasses. 

“Morning kiddos,” he greeted, sending a lopsided smile Virgil’s way. “What’cha got there, Virgil?”

Somehow the way he said it, genuine curiosity in his question rather than a threatening demand, didn’t send anxiety and dread shooting down Virgil’s spine. It was a welcome change. 

“I, uh, I made breakfast. Pancakes. For you guys, so uh...here you go.” 

He glanced at the plate of pancakes he’d set down, suddenly stupidly nervous. He’d kind of planned on being out of the room by the time they came down to eat, wanting to be out of the way if they decided they were angry with him. 

But Logan’s eyebrow raise didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest, and Patton broke out into a wide grin. 

“Aw, kiddo! That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to do that!” 

Virgil shrugged, forcing himself to relax. They weren’t upset or annoyed- he was ok. “I know, I just...figured you could use the break, you know? Sorry if they’re bad, I don’t really know...I just learned watching you, so--” 

“They look satisfactory,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder as he passed. “This was very thoughtful of you to do.” 

Patton offered him a quick hug, followed by compliments Virgil knew he probably didn’t deserve for mediocre pancakes, quickly making his way over to the table to begin serving. 

“I smell pancakes!” Roman announced, still on the stairs, his voice easily carrying through the quiet of the mindscape. 

The Prince bounded into the room, somehow already wide eyed and glowing, and Virgil wondered how any of them managed to have so much energy so early, while he usually struggled just to get out of bed in the mornings. 

Patton beamed, winking at Virgil as the anxious side took his seat at the table, beyond grateful that he didn’t have to risk handling any more glass plates while all the attention was on him. 

Patton began serving everyone plates as they all sat in their usual spots at the dining room table, filling the room with non-stop praises such as “These pancakes look so good, kiddo!” or “I had no idea you knew how to cook! We should make breakfast together sometime!” 

Virgil just shrugged and smiled, relieved it wasn’t obvious how worried he’d been that they’d all be mad he’d had the audacity to cook breakfast instead of Patton. 

Roman laughed, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder as he sat down and drenched his pancakes in syrup. “I’m just surprised he didn’t end up setting the oven on fire!” 

“Oh please,” he scoffed, forcefully pushing down the panicked excuses and apologies that fought their way to the surface at the accusation. Roman wasn’t angry; he knew what the Prince looked like when he was mad. “Have a little faith in me, Princey.” 

Roman laughed again, and Virgil’s chest no longer felt quite so tight as he allowed himself to smile, glancing at the other’s relaxed expressions. 

The rest of breakfast was exactly what Virgil had learned to expect, jokes and smiles and bickering without malice. The familiar comfort instantly set him at ease, all worries of future punishment fading to the back of his mind. 

“This really was sweet of you, kiddo,” Patton said when the food was gone. “I guess it’s a good thing I overslept a bit, huh?” 

Virgil knew none of them had been sleeping well lately, all of them stressed out and scared since the day Logan had found Virgil in his room. They were losing sleep because of him. 

And there it was again, the aimless confusion that so forcefully overpowered any fear. He couldn’t comprehend why they weren’t upset with him, why they were always so nice. 

Virgil just shrugged, averting his gaze. “I mean, it’s the least I can do, right? After everything you guys have done I just...wanted to say thank you.” 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. 

He might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper-focused on changes in body language, but he saw Roman stiffen in his seat, and he just barely caught a glimpse of the nervous glance Logan and Patton sent each other. 

The tension was gone in an instant, quickly covered up by fond looks and bright smiles, but Virgil was now frantically scrambling to figure out what he’d missed. 

“I...sorry, I just--” 

“Don’t be sorry!” Roman said suddenly, and Virgil jumped at the frantic tone. “You didn’t do anything!” 

Prince looked to Logan, who raised an eyebrow while Patton looked down at his lap, fumbling with his napkin. Virgil suddenly felt like a child about to be told their dog ran away. 

“Of course not,” Logan said. “Apologies, Virgil. No one meant to imply that you had. We only--” 

“We don’t need you to thank us,” Patton jumped in. “You don’t owe us a thing, kiddo. We’re just glad you’re here with us now.” 

Virgil shook his head, bewildered. “No, you...you guys are the ones giving me a chance and I...I know that’s not easy. And I really...really appreciate everything you’re doing.” 

And maybe it wasn’t a lot to them, the little acts of kindness and patient smiles nothing but second nature to the light sides, but...but it meant everything to him. No one had offered him anything this good before. 

But he didn’t want to push his luck by arguing, painfully aware of how easily he could send someone over the edge, so he stood up from his chair and began gathering up everyone’s plates. 

Don’t drop it, don’t drop it, he couldn’t handle them getting angry if he broke anything--

“Oh, I can clean up kiddo!” 

Virgil shook his head, carefully setting the plates down on the counter, letting himself breathe when he made it across the kitchen without anything breaking. 

“I made the mess, Pat,” he said, risking a glance back at the table to make sure no one was getting frustrated. “I got it.” 

“But you--” Logan put a hand on the moral side’s shoulder, and Patton quickly fell silent. 

“If it puts your mind at ease,” the logical side said, sending a meaningful glance towards the other two. “Then we will not stop you. Besides, Patton could use the morning off. Just...please be careful not to overwork yourself, Virgil.” 

Virgil sighed, relieved, briefly wondering once again if Logan had the secret ability to read minds. He always seemed to know what everyone needed, as alienated from emotions as he claimed to be. 

“I won’t,” Virgil promised, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I can handle it.” 

-

-

Virgil should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep a promise like that. God he was...he was so fucking useless. He was exhausted and terrified of losing the only people who had ever been kind to him in his life, but he’d really thought he would be able to handle it. 

Trembling on the kitchen floor, surrounded by cleaning supplies at two in the morning was the exact opposite of handling it. 

He hadn’t even planned on doing anything! He’d actually forced himself to go to bed at a regular hour, determined to create a somewhat stable sleep schedule. 

But obviously the universe had to remind him how much it hated him, leaving him to lay wide awake, staring at his ceiling for hours with a racing mind until he begrudgingly got up to get a drink of water. 

He should have known better with the way his vision swam with exhaustion, his hands shaking as he wrapped them around the glass, but of course he was stupid enough to try anyway, heart sinking when some of the water ended up sloshing over the edge and onto the tiled floor. 

He hadn’t panicked. He was alone in the dark, the kitchen empty and quiet, everyone else in the mindscape sound asleep. There was no reason to panic. 

But his shaking had only gotten worse as he’d set the glass in the sink, frantically glancing over his shoulder into the hallway to make sure it stayed empty. He grabbed a towel, lowered himself to his knees and began soaking up the water. 

He wasn’t really sure what had happened after that. He’d planned on cleaning up his mess, burying the damp towel at the bottom of the dirty laundry basket so no one would ever know, and then head back to bed to try and get at least a couple hours of sleep. 

But then...he’d found himself stuck where he was, staring at the kitchen floor, letting dark, nagging thoughts force their way to the front of his mind. 

Had he been doing enough? Did they think he was lazy? Was he still worth the kindness? What if they had already made plans to kick him out? 

They weren’t going to hurt him. They weren’t going to hurt him or send him back to the people who would. 

But they could. God, they so easily could and Virgil wouldn’t even fight it. Because he was lazy, and he wasn’t worth the kindness and he deserved to be sent back. 

But he could still convince them otherwise. He could still be better. 

And that was how he ended up pulling cleaning supplies out from under the sink, frantically scrubbing a floor that really didn’t need to be cleaned in the first place, distantly wondering why he couldn’t seem to stop. 

They weren’t upset with him. He’d been pulling his weight, already working himself to the bone to keep Thomas safe. Nobody had even hinted at being annoyed with him or going back on their word to let him live without punishment. 

So...why? Why couldn’t he get the Other’s voices out of his head? Why couldn’t he just forget about how things had been and move on? 

Why couldn’t he just stop being so scared? 

He wasn’t sure when he stopped scrubbing, his exhausted mind instead leaving him sitting on the damp floor, staring blankly at his hands, but it took him a moment to register the movement by the doorway. 

“Virgil?” 

Virgil jumped, dropping the wet cloth in his hand, scrambling back until he was pressed up against the bottom of the kitchen counter. The light from the living room had been turned on, the gentle glow flooding into the kitchen, illuminating the figure standing a few feet away. 

Roman blinked, looking from Virgil, to the cleaning supplies littering the floor, and then back to Virgil again. “What...in the world are you doing?” 

He didn’t sound angry, confused more than anything, but Virgil still flinched at the question. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“You didn’t, I was already awake.” Roman crouched down to Virgil’s level, still keeping a safe distance between them. “What’s wrong?” 

Virgil shook his head, suddenly painfully aware it just looked like he’d made the kitchen cluttered and wet. “Nothing. Sorry, you- you can go back to bed. It’s fine.” 

“You’re scrubbing the floor at three in the morning,” Roman said, frowning when Virgil flinched again. “I may not be Patton or Logan, but I can tell when something’s up, Gloomy Gus.” 

Virgil wondered how he could say that, how Roman could downplay his own abilities compared to the others when the Prince had been the first one to promise him safety, the first one to hold the anxious side in his arms. 

But Virgil didn’t have the energy to point any of that out right now, not when he couldn’t stop trembling and he was struggling to convince himself Roman wasn’t about to strike him. 

“I...I was just cleaning,” he said. “I got carried away, I’m sorry I was- I was gonna put everything away as soon as I was done.” 

Roman didn’t seem any less confused at the explanation, but his tone was still gentle when he spoke. “Did you spill something?” 

But despite it, Virgil still felt like he’d been punched, ice cold dread coiling around his gut as he shrank back, the counter against his back suddenly horribly confining. 

“I’m sorry, it- I was just getting some water and I...I didn’t mean to, I know I should’ve been more careful but I--” 

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Roman offered a small smile, holding out his hands, all dramatics and jokes set aside. “I’m not upset, no one’s mad at you. And the kitchen looks fine, Virge, so how about I put all this stuff away and we can--” 

“No!” 

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice (it was still pathetically small, but Roman was shocked into silence nonetheless), but the panic only worsened at the offer. 

He couldn’t let the Prince clean up a mess Virgil had made all on his own. It didn’t matter how well meaning he was, it could too easily be used against him in the future, an unbeatable weapon of guilt and shame. 

“N-no, I got it. I made the mess, you...you don’t have to--” 

“How about we clean it up together, then? It’s ok to ask for help sometimes, and I’m up anyway.” 

He was clearly trying so hard, and if Virgil wasn’t so irrationally terrified he might have thought it was sweet. But he was exhausted, the lack of sleep and incoming panic leaving him pretty much useless, and he realized he might be risking making a bigger mess by trying to put everything away himself. 

So he nodded and let Roman help him, the two sides carefully putting the cleaning supplies back where they belong and wiping down the residual dampness on the floor. 

Roman never once stood up, doing everything from where he kneeled on the floor, and Virgil was fairly certain it was an attempt to make Virgil feel more at ease, careful not to tower over him. 

Virgil appreciated it more than he probably should. 

“There we go,” Roman announced when they were done. “See? Easy fix. No need to stress out.” 

Virgil nodded, still in a pathetic little ball on the floor, wrapping his hoodie around himself in a vain attempt to hide the way he was still shaking.

 He expected Roman to leave now, to demand they both head to bed before they lost anymore sleep, but the Prince only scooted forward, sitting cross legged, his knees just a couple inches from Virgil’s. 

“Alright, Hot Topic,” Roman said. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up now? Or are we gonna have to sit here all night?” 

His easy smile was probably the only reason Virgil didn’t immediately start panicking again, but he quickly averted his gaze, struggling to piece through his racing thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. 

And really, how was he supposed to explain it? How was he supposed to make them see that he just didn’t…

“I don’t understand.” 

Roman didn’t react, just leaned forward slightly. “What don’t you understand, Virge?” 

“You’re not...you’re not angry. I made a mess and kept you awake and you’re not upset. At all. I just- I’m sorry, I just don’t...get it.” 

Even if Roman wasn’t angry, he shouldn’t be this kind to Anxiety. Virgil didn’t understand why he was forcing himself to be. 

“No one’s going to be upset with you,” Roman said softly. “You’re exhausted. We can tell you haven’t been sleeping--” 

“No one’s been sleeping.” 

“But you’re doing it on purpose,” Roman pointed out, and Virgil winced. “You’ve been overworking yourself all week. You cooked us breakfast- I mean look at you, Virgil you’re scrubbing the floor in the middle of the night!” 

Virgil hunched his shoulders instinctively. “I’m sorry.” 

“What? No, no I’m-” he paused, running a hand over his face. “I’m not angry, I promise. I’m worried. Ever since you told us what happened to you, you’ve been acting like...like…” 

He paused again, and Virgil watched as realization slowly hit, his brown eyes widening slightly. When Roman looked back at him, his expression was far too pained for his liking. “Virgil, you don’t owe us anything. You don’t have to convince us you’re worthy.” 

“Yes, I do.” God, why was all of this so confusing? “You guys keep saying I don’t, but I know how hard it is to treat me like this, and I--” 

“To treat you like what?” Roman demanded, growing progressively less gentle. “Like- like an equal? Like someone who doesn’t deserve to get beaten down for every little mistake?” 

Virgil didn’t know why Roman sounded so worked up, because they seemed to be on the same page now. “Yeah? I mean I just...I know it’s a lot of work, and I need to do something to make it up to you. To make it...you know. Worth the effort.” 

That was...the less selfish version of it, anyway. He owed them, he wanted to make their lives as easy as possible, but he was also willing to do anything if it meant getting to stay. 

But Roman didn’t need to know that. Not when it looked like he was already struggling not to be angry.  

“What...what did they say to you? How could you...how could you ever believe you deserve this? Virgil...Virgil, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.” 

And just like that, Roman didn’t look angry anymore. Upset, definitely, but there were tears pooling in his eyes, the distress on his face worse than any physical blow. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said for what felt like the hundredth time that night. And just like each time before, Roman quickly shook his head. “I-I’m trying to understand but I can’t--” 

“Please don’t be sorry.” Roman’s voice was barely a whisper, but it silenced Virgil immediately. “Don’t...don’t be sorry for what they did to you, alright? It wasn’t your fault.” 

That was debatable, considering everything he’d gone through had happened because he messed something up. But something told him Roman wouldn’t appreciate hearing that right now. 

“It’s not,” the Prince said again, like he knew what Virgil was thinking anyway. Roman moved to rub the back of his neck, an old nervous habit, taking a moment before continuing. “Do...do you think I’m going to hit you?” 

And Virgil wanted to immediately say no, to rush to assure the Prince that he knew Roman would never, that he hadn’t done anything to make Virgil think he would go back on his promise. 

But he couldn’t say that yet. Not truthfully, anyway. But...but looking at Roman now, lowered to the floor to Virgil’s level, eyes flooding with unshed tears...Virgil couldn’t honestly say he expected violence either, deserved or not. 

“I...I don’t think you’re going to,” he said slowly. “I mean, I- I know you won’t. I know that. It’s just...I don’t know. It’s hard to remember sometimes. But- but you promised you wouldn’t. So, I- I trust you.” 

Roman nodded, but didn’t look any less distraught. “Do you think I should?” 

It was asked softly, hesitantly, like Roman was afraid of an answer he already knew. And Virgil wondered if he should be ashamed of how quickly he found himself nodding. 

“God, Virge…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “Why? I told you I wasn’t mad.” 

“I know, but I...I spilled, and left all the cleaning supplies out. Everything was a mess and I kept you from going back to bed, and I kept getting confused when you were explaining things and--” 

“I should hit you for being confused?” Virgil flinched, and Roman’s face fell. “I’m...so sorry. I don’t know what they did to make you think that’s the only option for you.” 

Virgil shrugged, wishing he could understand why Roman found this so impossible to comprehend. He thought Roman might be thinking the same thing. “It’s...it’s just easier for everyone. You’ll...figure that out eventually.” 

And really, that was the truth wasn’t it? They were kind, they were good, and they were trying. They meant it when they said they wouldn’t hurt him. They didn’t want to, because they didn’t know him yet. 

Their patience would run out, sooner or later. The Others had been around him for years, they knew better than anyone. No one could be expected to be around Anxiety without getting fed up, and Virgil couldn’t be of use without the pain. 

That was how it was, how it needed to be, and Virgil...Virgil could handle that. He hated it, but he wouldn't duck out again. He wouldn’t do that to Thomas. 

And he still loved the light sides. He didn’t think he could ever stop loving them. It wasn’t their fault that he was like this. And besides, no one had bothered to try this hard with him before. It had still been the best few weeks of his life and if he was lucky, it might last a couple more. 

Roman shook his head, and Virgil’s stomach dropped when he saw the Prince quickly wipe away a stray tear. He looked...heartbroken. And Virgil wanted so desperately to understand why. 

“I don’t go back on my promises,” he said softly. “Nobody will ever lay a hand on you. Nobody will hurt you again. You are never, ever going back. We love you, Virgil, and treating you like we do isn’t a burden. It isn’t something you ever need to thank us for.”

Roman reached forward slowly, his watery eyes never leaving Virgil’s as he moved, and Virgil forced himself not to flinch back. 

When the Prince touched his face, it was soft and delicate, his hand moving to frame his cheek like something fragile he was afraid to break. He held him gently, and Virgil leaned into the touch. 

“You could make a thousand mistakes,” Roman said. “And nothing bad would happen to you, because you don’t deserve to be hurt. You never did, and you never will. Nothing you could do would warrant that kind of treatment.” 

Virgil blinked, his vision going dangerously blurry in the face of Roman’s watering eyes and kind, horribly confusing words. It made his head spin. 

“I don’t…” he paused, clenching his jaw and swallowing against the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t get it. Roman, I- I can’t...I don’t understand.” 

His voice cracked on the last word, broken and small, and his eyes fell away from the Prince’s gaze. 

“I know,” Roman said, his thumb lightly tracing Virgil’s cheekbone. “But you will. I promise, one day you will.” 

Virgil closed his eyes, letting the tears spill over. His head fell forward, resting against Roman’s shoulder, and he let himself choose to believe in the Prince’s hope, just for a moment.

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames @wyvern-tales @spoopyseason66 @gaylotusthatexists @my-life-is-an-artistic-mess @that-one-fander @alias290 @yalltookmyurlideas @theantisocialghost @dark-strange-daughter @joylessnightsky @nova-galexa @luckymasie @stayarmy321 @starsinger @unhygienic-andy-the-anon @deathdarknessdevils @d-rizzle83 @spoonfullofcrofters @darkch1ld @sarcasmremovedsoul @bananabread123443

[jolynej]

I’m Not in Love

Summary: You and Prosciutto, both determined to keep things casual, are sent out on a mission to eliminate a target, but something goes wrong and you end up hurt, forcing Prosciutto to come to terms with his feelings

A/N: I started this weeks ago, but have been so busy that I haven’t had time to properly finish it until now! I’m a very slow writer, and I struggle with creating longer fics that exceed 1k words, so this was a huge labor of love! I hope that y’all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Warnings: heavily implied nsft, violence, guns, minor character death, blood, Prosciutto being a bit of an asshole, fainting

You both told each other when you made this arrangement that it was strictly physical and that you were only doing this out of convenience and carnal desire. Sure, he’s very attractive, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about lingering in bed and pretending that you’re still asleep if only to savor his body heat and the weight of his arm across your torso for a few more minutes. But you couldn’t possibly cross that line.

The lives that both you led didn’t allow for the luxury of developing and maintaining romantic — or any, really — relationships that were outside of your work. You’d lost friends and family members to the steady passage of time and lack of communication. It came with the territory of the job, and though you’d tried to justify your drifting relationships by assuring yourself that it was done to protect those you used to hold close, you knew that was just an excuse you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

The initial adjustment to your new job was tough in that aspect, but Prosciutto, aside from being your mentor, slowly became a comfort and a confidant for your bouts of anxiety and late night regrets of leaving your old life behind. You’d joined him outside at night on the balcony of the hideout plenty of times. He would self-soothe with cigarettes, exhaling out his demons in the shape of a puff of smoke whilst he listened to you reminisce on your happier, less bloody days.

“It’s a damn shame you’re so good at you job,” he’d told you one particular night, when the orange and white city lights below cast a bright glow over his sharp features; yet simultaneously, it accentuated the dark circles under his eyes, and the shadows beneath those jagged angles of his cheekbones and jawline made him look far older than he was. Prosciutto looked beautiful as he did horrible.

You just shook your head and smirked, inquiring, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Kid, there were many different paths that you could’ve picked from,” He stops briefly to take a drag of his cigarette. “But this is what you opted for.” The blond flicked his cigarette and snuffed it with the toe of his oxfords, answering with, “All I’m saying is that you had your whole life ahead of you, and instead of getting a normal, decent job, you decided that this was worth the Louboutins and those diamond earrings of yours.”

“It’s good that it ended up working out for you.”

His compliments were usually pretty backhanded, but you could tell that this wasn’t just because of his usual condescending behavior. He seemed almost... sad and guilty, but then again, it could just be from the shadows on his face exaggerating his features.

“I’m glad you’re damn good at your job, too,” you remarked, leaning against the railing, savoring in the feeling of the warm, summer night wind caressing your face.

Soon, you found the touch against your cheeks was replaced by his calloused fingers and then his lips, giving birth to a routine that would continue every-so-often: you’d join him outside at night and would wake up in bed next to him in a tangle of limbs and satin sheets.

Maybe it was only natural that you and him would end up growing closer and more intimate.

—

This little arrangement between the two of you continues, and with each time you bare yourself to him, you struggle with your developing feelings. After you had slept together that first night — before you had a real chance to give yourself a proper chance to evaluate your own feelings — he assured you that the prior night’s events had meant nothing to him, that it was a mistake. He apologized, confessing that the rendezvous had stemmed from a place of pent up arousal and convenience and that it wouldn’t happen again.

That’s what he’d said the second, and third, time too. But by the fourth time, you’d both decided to become ‘coworkers with benefits’ as you’d so eloquently put it. It’s purely out of physical need and mutual trust and nothing else. There’s no time for romance.

—

The following spring, you were sent out together to a job on the coast, and were given a shared room at a hotel near the warehouse where your target was supposedly going to be tonight. The assignment had worked in your favor, you’d both arrive mid-morning, have time to scout out the location, go back to the room for a quick fuck, then proceed to the location, clean up, and spend the night between the sheets until you both passed out from sheer exhaustion.

“The target should be on location this evening,” he informs you casually as he’s sliding on his trousers, as if he hadn’t just fucked you into the mattress. He gives his watch a quick glance before speaking again. “Which gives us approximately an hour before we need to head out.”

You nod, reaching for your clothes — his hand stops you, grasping your wrist. “Let me clean you up first,” he says, briefly locking eyes with you, before averting his gaze just as quickly. “If you’re going out you should at least be comfortable.”

While Prosciutto walks off to the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water and a washcloth, you look down at your naked body. Your combined releases dribble down your thighs, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the sticky, wet sensation on your lower body.

He’s back approximately a minute later, the glass is set upon the nightstand, and he’s kneeling, still shirtless, at your feet with the wet washcloth in hand. He cleans you up in relative silence, and the intimacy and vulnerability in this situation is not lost on either of you. It hangs around like a heavy fog that both of you desperately try to ignore, hoping that it’ll dissipate.

Under different circumstances, you’d love to be able to cradle his chin in your hand and confess every single romantic thought that you’d ever held for him, and in turn, he’d press tender kisses up your thighs, and trade the rag for his tongue, cleaning you up with a few slow licks. Instead, you give him a curt, ‘thank you’ and get dressed.

Your little trysts were littered with subtle, more domestic moments like this one where you wanted to push the boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate when you’re in a friends-with-benefits situation with your coworker. Even without the romance that you so desperately craved, there was still a strong sense of intimacy and familiarity with each ‘Was I too rough?’ or ‘You can sleep in here tonight’ that could only stem from a certain level of trust and comfort.

The rest of the time leading up to your assignment was spent going over your plan of attack and working out any loose ends or confusion on either side, and as he spoke, you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to travel down to his plush lips and the exposed patch of skin from his half-buttoned blouse that, when he shifted at a certain angle, allowed for you to catch a glimpse of a dark red bruise where your lips had been.

You were passing the threshold, the imaginary line. You’d stepped on it, gotten it stuck to your feet, and try as you may to deny its presence and scrub it clean from your skin — you could scrub it raw, until you bled — it wasn’t something you could erase.

As he’s stepping out of the hotel room, you glance back to ask him if he’s ready, but you’re caught off guard by the buttons of his shirt. They’re all closed completely save for a lone button rendering the bruise no longer visible. Inquisitively, the blond quirks up an eyebrow, silently asking if there’s a problem.

“I’m just ready to get this over with,” you sigh, matching your stride with his as you both exit the hotel and journey to the warehouse.

The target doesn’t show as planned, much to your and Prosciutto's dismay and annoyance. You had both searched the large building and its surroundings as thoroughly as possible but still the target hasn’t made an appearance. There aren’t even any hidden clues as to where he’s run off to. As pissed as you both felt in that moment — you were cursing to yourself and your partner was leaning against a metal structure with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth — Risotto was going to be absolutely furious.

Unlike most contracts where you were paid after the deed or half before and half after, the client had paid a hefty sum up front and with a dark leer he was insistent that the job be completed as soon as possible. Something deep within you knew that he would not be the type of man whose bad side you’d like to be on.

Defeated and angry, you both decided to bite the bullet and head back to the hotel to inform your superior of the unfortunate situation. Just outside of the hotel, Prosciutto glances over at a payphone on the street corner.

“Go on inside and shower and eat, kid, I’ll talk to Risotto.”

“Are you sure? We can speak to him together, or I can just sp—“ He cut you off with a hand patting your cheek, gently thumbing your skin. He was stressed and so were you.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” he manages a tiny half-smile. “I’ve got it.”

Yeah, you are stressed as all hell, but at least you didn’t have to be at the receiving end of Risotto’s wrath — for tonight anyway. Thinking about Prosciutto opting to do so in your stead and acting out of concern for you sends a cacophony of butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. He has always looked out for you ever since you’d joined, but this was something more than just him looking out for a junior member of his team. There was no way that he’d touch Formaggio or even Pesci like that, with such a pure tenderness that leaves your skin tingling from where his fingers were.

Making your way up the stairs to your shared room, the sensation of butterflies immediately flees from your stomach and instead, an eerie, insidious feeling begins to tiptoe up your spine, and you get the sense that something is very, very wrong.

One of the hall lights has gone out, and the other is flickering in random spasms as it emits a faint buzz. With each step towards your door, the broken light fixture seems to dim and buzz louder until it makes one final loud screech and dies completely the moment that you touch the door handle, and as soon as your fingers gripped the metal handle, an overpowering jolt of electricity fizzles throughout your entire body, sending you doubling over in pain, desperately croaking out for your stand as you fall to the dingy carpet.

The world around you seemed to morph into blackness and little snippets of sounds — you weren’t sure if you were still awake or if you’d lost consciousness — but you clung onto what you could decipher to the best of your ability. Static, the plodding footfall of someone running on carpet with urgency, the unmistakable click of a gun, a heavy thud, then silence.

You crane your head and espy a familiar pair of oxfords, and with a sigh of relief you feel your eyes grow heavy.

—

You come-to in the backseat of a car, and if it weren’t for the intensity of the events before you passed out, you would’ve happily shut your eyes to the steady thrum of the car speeding down the road. A bubble of panic rises up your throat, throwing your senses in overdrive as you carefully assess your surroundings. You find that a suit jacket has been draped over you like a makeshift blanket, and the familiar scent of cologne, tobacco, and cigarette-smoke is an instant relief.

Looking up, you find Prosciutto is in the driver’s seat of the car with a plain, white tank top in the place of his button-up. The bones of his knuckles are prominent due to the strain and force of his grip on the steering wheel, and they’re dotted with specks of red that extend up to his forearms.

There’s an evident scowl on his lips, which are scabbed and bloody from worrying teeth marks and not from — what you can safely assume given the sound you’d heard earlier — a gunshot to the man that had been in your hotel room.

“The target was dealt with,” he says upon seeing you awake, and he disguises it with a cough, but his entire face softens with a relieved sigh. The visible tension in his bulging veins on his forearms eases along with the death-grip that he has on the steering wheel; Prosciutto settles one hand on his thigh, splaying his fingers out on the fabric of his trousers, feeling for something in his pocket — cigarettes most likely. He’s still antsy and tense, alternating between his hands on the wheel to search his other pocket.

You have a myriad of questions wreaking havoc on your brain, which is still a bit fuzzy from the electricity and has brought on a dull headache. With the blazer clenched tightly to your chest, you fiddle around until you find a pack of his smokes and pull them out, holding them in the air with a dopey, lopsided grin that says ‘lookee here!’. It earns a playful eye roll and a smirk from Prosciutto who brings his hand back to take them from you.

When you offer the box up, your fingers brush, and you swear that he leaves his hand extended towards you a moment longer than necessary. The sensation sends a full-body chill through your veins.

“Put the coat on, kid, I don’t want you freezing up and getting sick in the car.” He’s staring straight out at the road, but you know the sentiment is there, beneath the layer of sweat and blood there’s worry. “Go back to sleep,” he orders in that gravelly, stern but caring tone of his that he uses on you when he gives you orders, and only you. In a way, it’s not that much different from how he talks in bed, and the familiarity has you warm all over. God, you’re in love with this man.

“I’ll wake you up in about an or two, capisce?”

—

You’re awoken by Prosciutto opening the door of the backseat and calling your name. You can barely see him, he’s almost a dark, looming figure in the night. The sky in the countryside is worlds away from the city skyline that you’re accustomed to. Behind him, there’s a sea of twinkling stars, and the bright crescent moon hangs proudly behind his head like a half-halo, and he appears to you like a fallen angel, still clinging on desperately to something good and holy that someone like him does not deserve. In his right hand, he holds a shovel, and his arms and face and tank top are caked in the weight of his sins, blood and dirt and sweat; you surmise that the closer you get to him, the less the moon resembles a halo and moreso a pair of horns. Again, the night is playing tricks on you.

“I’ve buried the remains,” he explains. “I decided it would be easiest to just take care of it myself until we can get you checked out. We don’t know the full extent of the damage that you’ve received or what effects that my stand could have on you in this state.” It’s a poor excuse, and you both know it, but it’s easier for him to lie to you when his facial expressions are harder to see.

Still, you don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline in your blood, your feelings for him, or some leftover electricity that’s done something to your brain, but you decide to call him out.

Sitting upright, you say, “I still could’ve helped, Prosci, otherwise there would be no point for me to come on this mission with you. You’ve done more than enough to help me, and I… I really appreciate everything that you’ve done to help me, but I have to work to earn my share of the payment!

“I can’t just lie back and let you treat me like some doll or damsel in distress!” You spout, wadding up his blazer and tossing it at him. He catches it with a growl, and the shovel clatters to the ground with a resounding clang.

He’s crawling across the backseat, hovering over you like a mangy beast; truthfully, you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so unhinged and disheveled. His scent bears no resemblance to the comforting aroma of his suit-jacket, and instead, he emits a pungent odor of grime and sweat, evident by the damp, dirty stray pieces of hair that encircle his face and the thin layer of earth that stains his skin with splotches of gray and brown. He looks like he can hurt you, and for a second you make the mistake of thinking that he will.

“Kid, you need to listen to me! I—“ he huffs, but upon seeing your face up close, all scared and doe-like, he kisses you. It’s emotional and hurried and needy and far unlike any previous kiss that you’d shared. It’s not spurred on by wanting or lust but by love and a great fear of loss.

“I love you,” he whispers like a gasp when he pulls apart from you. “I love you,” he says once more, softer, sweeter. “I love you.”

In his eyes, you can see every word that he leaves unsaid, his confession of how afraid he was that he’d never see you again, how he panicked and saw red and shot the man on sight, how he carried you to the car with a metaphorical knife stabbing at his heart, and how he almost cried from relief when he saw you open your eyes.

“I love you, too,” you say back, smiling, kissing him again with that same passion as before.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Four for four baby! This is perhaps the last of my daily updates as I’ll be busy the next few days. Here’s another little filler chapter but it’s a good one as it’s the first one where we directly see references to other creators’ Monkie Kid works! There’s three references here, two subtle and one explicit. I’ll make sure to have links to each work in the notes at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

<Previous | First | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Four: Childish Behavior

Tang often feels like the only adult surrounded by children. Literally sometimes.

----------

If there was one thing Tang had learned about these timelines he kept jumping between was that they were consistently inconsistent.

The minor details that changed randomly but never really affected the outcome of the events from his original time were still abundant and rarely phased him much anymore.

(Although that one time he had platinum blonde hair had been interesting.)

It was when entirely unique situations arose that the scholar was caught off guard.

New events sprung up every now and then and inserted themselves between the original ones. As with the smaller changes, these new scenarios were unpredictable and varied wildly in scope.

A surprisingly durable MK clone that somehow managed to escape being dispelled, gaining independence, and becoming Macaque’s apprentice.

An ocean demon sinking ships just outside the bay and Sandy getting to go on that water adventure he wanted.

MK’s birth parents trying to reinsert themselves back into his life after seeing his achievements on the news.

(Tang was so incredibly proud of his kid for standing up for himself and refusing their empty platitudes. The pranks that he, Mei, and the Monkey King had pulled on them in retaliation were great stress relievers.)

Since Tang could still do his best to help out in each new event without horrible consequences, it seemed the rule of “No Interference” did not apply to them. He supposed that made sense as he had no way to predict when or if they might occur and thus couldn’t change an outcome he didn’t know about.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

Still, with how these cycles seemed to be endless so far, a few of these events would happen over multiple timelines.

Getting de-aged by a mischievous trickster demon or spirit was a strangely common occurrence.

MK seemed to be the most popular target for this particular curse. The brightness of his personality seemed to shine even stronger whenever he was reverted into a child, which simply made Tang love the kid even more.

(He wished he could have helped the Monkey King tear Macaque apart for kidnapping their precious little one in that cycle.)

They all had their own turns of having their biological clocks reversed of course. Mei was a little trouble maker, Pigsy was a shy and timid toddler, and Sandy liked to have things he could break apart. Tang couldn’t clearly remember the times he had been de-aged but was pleased when an exhausted Mei and Mk had said he was the easiest of the adults-turned-kids to take care of.

Then there was the Monkey King.

Having to corral a rambunctious young monkey with the strength to crush boulders and the ability to duplicate or shapeshift was not easy.

(He still had no idea how MK had managed to do it alone once.)

With the amount of times they had all been subjected to this specific curse, Tang only really had himself to blame for not seeing it coming.

Tang poured over the scroll in front of him, trying to find the counter for this timeline’s version of the curse. Behind him, Mei distracted a de-aged Red Son, or Red Boy as that’s what the small fire demon was calling himself.

Getting kidnapped by a somewhat feral child with the ability to freely toss around the True Fire of Samadhi hadn’t been the most pleasant start to his day. While being mistaken as the monk Tang Sanzang was a little flattering, the threat of being roasted over the sacred blume flames and eaten had quickly dampened those feelings.

Luckily the young demon had fallen asleep, the fires dissipating as he lost consciousness. If only Tang knew how to cast the Monkey King’s fire ward...

“Ahem.”

Tang glanced up and paled at the sight of a displeased looking Demon Bull King.

“Little thief,” the demon addressed an equally freaked-out MK. “I believe you have something of mine.”

“Father! You’re here,” Red Boy called out as he jumped from Mei’s arms. “I have wonderful news! I’ve found a husband!” He quickly ran over to a petrified MK and leaned against him like he was presenting some great treasure. “Look! Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

Tang had almost forgotten about that particular detail. If they got out of this alive he was never going to let MK live this down for the rest of the cycle. Prerogative of being a dad and all.

“What do you think father,” Red Boy continued, ignoring MK’s desperate plea for him to stop. “I can marry him, right?”

DBK’s expression was frankly unimpressed as he stared down into the hopeful one Red Boy wore. Tang had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and slowly made his way around the room to hide behind MK and Mei who were also backing away.

“No.”

Tang winced a bit at the bluntness of the answer and braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“What? But… why? WHY NOT?!”

The genuine hurt and confusion in the young demon’s voice would have made Tang feel a bit sympathetic, if Red Boy hadn’t tried to eat him of course.

“Because I said so,” DBK growled as he knelt to be closer to his de-aged son. “Now, enough of this. Time to stop being a child.”

Tang frowned. That was... not how to calmly explain to one’s child about why you were refusing their request. Not if you wanted to avoid a full-on meltdown. He should know, having to take care of a young MK multiple times.

Looking into the Demon Bull King’s scowling visage, he wasn’t sure if the older demon simply didn’t know how, or just didn’t care.

“That’s… NOT FAIR!” Red Boy’s disbelief predictably turned into anger as his hair once again burst into blue flames.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR! I am not a child!” The True Fire of Samadhi burst out around the boy, seeming to startle DBK who took a step back. Tang was just thankful that it wasn’t aimed at him this time.

“I… I’m not-” Red Boy’s anger quickly melted away, as did the fire around him. The young demon sniffed a few times before dropping onto the ground and beginning to cry.

Loudly.

“You’re recording this, right?” MK whispered to Mei.

“Obviously.”

Tang sighed at their antics and looked over at DBK. The demon still looked angry but the scholar could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed completely out of his depth and unsure on what to do.

Tang took a steadying breath before mustering his courage and stepping out from behind MK. If Demon Bull King didn’t know how to act like a good father then perhaps he could show him.

If he survived this he was going to need a vacation to fight back against the grey hairs this was going to give him.

The other adults all looked at him as if he had sprouted another head as he approached the sobbing child and knelt next to him.

“Red Boy?”

“H-huh?” The young demon looked up in confusion at being addressed.

“I know that right now everything seems pretty unfair and that can be upsetting,” Tang soothed, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “But I promise you that your father has a good reason for not letting you marry MK. Would it help if he were to calmly explain that reason without getting angry at you?” He aimed that last sentence more at DBK than Red Boy, who’s sobs had slowed.

“M-maybe…” the young demon finally admitted.

Tang turned to stare expectantly at the Demon Bull King. The demon glared down at the scholar.

“Why are you treating him like a child?”

The harshness of his tone made Red Boy start to tear up again. Tang glared right back at DBK.

“Because right now, until we can reverse this, he is a child,” the scholar snapped, his fear replaced with righteous anger. “And like every child, he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. He deserves to be comforted by a parent whom he obviously adores and be told that it’s okay to cry. He deserves to feel safe and loved.”

The room was silent save for the hiccups and sniffles from Red Boy as they all stared at Tang. DBK’s mouth hung open as he gazed incredulously down at the human, seemingly struck speechless.

“F-father?”

The small and unsure voice of Red Boy snapped the Demon Bull King out of his thoughts, and something seemed to loosen within him.

Tang stood and retreated back to MK and Mei to give the demon some privacy as he knelt next to his son and began speaking in a hushed tone with him.

“What the hell Mr. Tang,” MK hissed into his ear as he stared wide eyed at the pair of demons on the ground.

“Language MK,” Tang hissed right back before leaning over to Mei. “I know you aren’t recording two incredibly powerful demons having a moment of vulnerability who would stop at nothing to destroy us if they discovered the existence of such a video, right?”

“Eep!” Mei nearly dropped her phone as she rushed to stop her recording and then delete the last few minutes of the resulting video.

There were a few minutes of tense silence as the three humans did their best to pretend that there weren’t two demons having an emotional moment together just a few feet away. They gave a sigh of relief when Red Boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. DBK seemed panicked at first before slowly wrapping his own arms around the young demon.

Tang adjusted his glasses and gave a nervous smile to the Demon Bull King who was scrutinizing him like a particularly confusing puzzle.

At least he didn’t seem angry any more.

Perhaps they would escape this fiasco unscathed after all.

----------

I was not expecting this chapter to turn into another Dad Tang story. It just kind of happened that way. So onto the references!

First is Durability by TaintTheUnstoppable which is beginning to shape up into something really interesting.

Second is Little One by @its-kall-the-clown which is just a huge fluff fest capped off with some nice angst. Highly recommended.

Finally we have the Red Boy comic by @purble-turble! Now obviously the Tang in their comic probably won’t do what this one did, by this Tang is too much of a Dad to let a little kid cry for too long.

Next chapter won’t be up until sometime next week! See ya then!

[letarasstuff]

Panic, Love and Take Out

Summary: Midterms are hard on all of us, even on a genuis’ daughter

Warnings: Angst, but it’s a fluffy end, I promise 🥺, panic attack, mentions of school (lets admit, we all got  trauma from school), stress, language (I think there’s one swear word?)

Word count: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨

_______________________________-

“When you get home, you do your calculus homework first. Then you write this essay for history. After that you have to solve the problems from your chemistry class. Wait. It would be better if I do it after calculus”, (Y/N) talks to herself on her way home.

Midterms are around the door and the teachers think giving their students 30 hours worth of homework is the best way to help them study. Sadly they don’t see that it gives them nothing but stress pimples.

“I’m home!” she calls into the apartment while hanging up her coat. Like it occurs in 90% of all cases the teenager is greeted with silence. Her father has yet to come home.

After a little snack (a granola bar and an apple from the kitchen counter) she goes up into her room starting on her homework.

It’s not like all the things she does are due tomorrow or anytime soon. (Y/N) likes to get a head start on her work. So time won’t come and bite her in the end, because she procrastinated too much.

Though this attitude is something everyone envies her for, the downsides of it are just straight up destructive.

Since the amount of assignments doesn’t seem to shrink (Y/N) is constantly worrying about it. She can’t help it. It keeps her awake at night to know what she has to do and it bugs her that she lays awake and does nothing to help the situation.

“One down, only two left”, she mutters, putting her folder for calc away. It’s nearing dinner time, but (Y/N) doesn’t even dream about taking a break.

In her hyper focused state she doesn’t notice three important things:

1. The ever increasing clicking of her ball point pen

2. Her faster shaking leg

3. The front door opening and closing

“Honey, I’m home!” Spencer shouts. The absence of an answer makes his eyebrows furrow. His daughter should be home by now. Her shoes and jacket are neatly on the rack, indicating she must be there. Whenever he announces his arrival she is there to greet him.

“Hey honey, what are you doing there?” he asks, entering her room. The doctor stands in the doorway to take the picture in:

(Y/N) is bent over several notebooks. Textbooks litter the floor and an empty mug stands out between dozens of colored pens on her desk.

“Hi dad. Just getting some homework done. How was work?” She tries to make small talk, but it’s obvious that her focus lays elsewhere.

“It was fine, just a paper work day. When did you take a break? I was thinking about ordering dinner tonight. We could try this new chinese place Morgan recommended. We also can catch up on the newest episodes of Doctor Who. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good, but I have to get this done. Maybe I can join you later” (Y/N) excuses herself.

“Are you sure? It won’t hurt you to take a little time off. Actually your brain needs breaks between every 30 and 90 minutes in between study sessions. So I advise you to take one in order to avoid frustration because of exhaustion”, Spencer tries to convince her.

But the problem is that (Y/N) is her father’s daughter and can be as stubborn and ambitious as he is.

“I know that, dad. I promise it won’t take any longer until I’m finished. Just go ahead and order and begin watching.”

Defeated, the profiler leaves her room. He knows there is nothing he can do for now except for waiting. (Y/N) needs to come to him on her own.

But if she is honest with herself, she isn’t anywhere near being done. Her chemistry work takes longer than originally thought and her whole schedule is in delay. This only adds up on her already high amount of stress. The coffee she drank earlier to stay alert and awake doesn’t help the situation either.

What feels like only minutes later, which is actually half an hour, Spencer reappears in her doorway with a box of take out in his hands.

“Hey (Y/N), the food is here. Do you wanna join me on the sofa?” He asks gingerly. As her father he knows that it won’t take much now to make her explode. But this is exactly what happens.

“No dad, I don’t want to join you. Can’t you see that I’m busy? Not everybody has an IQ of 187 and just needs to read something once and can recite it like a damn robot. Now can you leave me alone for god’s sake?!”

Throughout her angry rant (Y/N) looks at her father with rueful eyes. He always knows that her outbursts, which are extremely rare for a teenager, are never meant to hurt him. It’s just the stress getting to her.

“Ok, honey. Just keep in mind where you can find me. I Love you and don’t overwork yourself.” He quickly closes the door. Spencer stood eye to eye with the worst scum on the planet, but his angry teenage daughter never fails to scare him at least a bit. So he tries to give her all the room she needs to get a clear head again.

(Y/N) on the other hand can’t feel any worse. Not only is she super antsy and stressed, now she also feels bad going off on her dad just like this. She knows he only wants to help her and she really is grateful for that, but in situations like this it’s difficult for her to keep her calm.

As the girl continues to write her essay, she realizes her father is right. Of course she is, she herself knows all the facts and stats there are about studying. Still she chooses to ignore them until it’s too late.

The longer she tries to form coherent sentences the trickier it gets. Which only frustrates her further, which only stresses her more.

“I’m so useless. I can’t even write about a subject I’m really interested in. I’m so dumb, god it hurts,” (Y/N) mumbles to herself. She can’t stop her train of thoughts from getting darker, all the stress now catching up to her mind.

In her state she loses the grip on her pen, letting it fall on the paper and splattering little droplets of ink. Her breath begins to get uneven, unfortunately a familiar feeling for (Y/N). At least she knows what to do.

The girl scrambles into the living room, where Spencer sits on the sofa like he told her earlier.

With shaking legs and a panic filled mind she looks at him, her eyes wide open. “D-dad. I-i-i” she doesn’t need to elaborate further. Not that she would be able to.

Sadly Spencer is experienced with the situation. He is quick to put her down in a chair, pressing her head between her legs. He draws with one hand circles on her back, the other is clenched in hers.

“Shh, (Y/N). Breath we me. We go in for six seconds, hold it for seven and let it go for eight. We can do it together” the doctor instructs her.

They do it until (Y/N)’s breathing is back under her control. She straightens her back again, still holding her dad’s hand in a deadbolt grip.

“I’m so-”

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for. What about we eat dinner and after that we do something repetitive. You really like doing these friendship bracelets, don’t you? I thought about it when I was shopping a few days ago and bought thread. Maybe you can teach me?”

At that his daughter begins to smile agreeing to the plan.

Not long after this, the small family sits next to each other. Old reruns of Doctor Who play in the background. Under softly told instructions Spencer ties his first bracelet. He knows that it is something little children do, but the repetitive pattern of movements help (Y/N) to calm fully down before she crashes down in exhaustion.

Like said before, it wasn’t her first panic attack. But she gets better.

“You know, you can always talk to me. I know school is stressing you out right now. But never forget, that your health, physically and mentally, is more important than any number on a piece of paper. And I will love you forever, nothing will ever change that”, he says after a time of silence. (Y/N) sighs.

“I know. It’s just, I want to do good. I want you to be proud of me”, she confesses. It’s hard for her to open up, but now seems like the perfect moment.

“I’m already proud of you. Hell, you could paint a pile of poop golden and I would be the proudest parent out there. Your accomplishments don’t define you as a human. They don’t determine your worth or are an indicator of your skills and knowledge. I love you, no matter what you do. I will always support you. I just want you to be happy and healthy.”

“Thanks dad. I love you too. Even though you are sometimes a real pain with your ‘know it better’ attitude”, she jokes and puts her head on her father’s shoulder. He slings his arm around her shoulders, making her snuggle into him further.

So the father and daughter sit there blissfully, basking in each other’s presence.

[awritingtree]

Burnout

Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Y/N has been pushing herself past the limit with school work. When Fred notices her unusual behaviour, he decides to intervene. But what happens when Y/N snaps and says some things that could possibly destroy their relationship and friendship?

Words: ~2.5k

Warnings: angst, fluff?, mentions of anxiety attacks, lack of self-care

A/N: “What is this crap?” you ask. I don’t know myself 😂 this started off as one thing and ended up being something different. It really is not my best work. I don't know what I've written myself. I’m confused. Might delete it later, idk. But I hope you enjoy it xx

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Good morning love,” Fred Weasley greeted his girlfriend with a kiss to her cheek as she sat down at the Gryffindor table on a Friday morning at the Great Hall.

“Hi,” Y/N Y/L/N mumbled quietly without looking at him. She reached out to grab a piece of warm toast and spread some butter on it before taking a bite. She poured herself a glass of milk, gulping it down as she munched on her piece of toast as quick as she could.

Fred frowned at Y/N’s unusual behaviour. She’d usually greet him back with an enthusiastic ‘good morning’ hugging him tightly, proceeding to make a joke which would make his laughter echo through the Great Hall on a quiet morning. He shrugged off her behaviour, reckoning she must be stressed about the Transfiguration test that afternoon.

Y/N continued to gobble up her food at a speed that was not healthy.

“Slow down, Y/N. We don’t need you choking early in the morning,” joked Lee Jordan, eliciting a chuckle from the twins.

“Shove off, Jordan,” Y/N clipped back. She shoved down the remaining bits of the toast before getting up and stringing her bag over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Fred asked.

“I need to go talk to Professor Flitwick about the assignment he gave the other day. I’ll see you guys later,” she said, leaving in a hurry.

This made Fred concerned, wondering what was going on with his girlfriend. She left without giving him a kiss goodbye; that never happened. Before he could ponder more on the topic, George pulled his attention back to a prank they’d been discussing throughout the week.

And the topic was forgotten. For now.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Y/N sat close to the Black Lake in the company of Fred, George and Lee. Sitting cross-legged, she leaned her elbows on her knees, fingers tangled in her hair, pulling at it in frustration. Her eyes scanned the open books strewn around her, searching for something to write on the blank piece of parchment perched on her lap.

“You’re coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow, right Y/N?” asked the younger twin.

Y/N looked up, a confused look on her face. “Huh?”

“You’re coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” questioned George once again, dragging his words out slowly.

“Oh. Um no,” she said, her attention already back to the books in front of her.

Fred’s grin dropped into a frown, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What? You promised you’d come this time. You’ve missed out on every single Hogsmeade trip this year.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” Y/N replied, barely paying attention to the conversation she was a part of.

“You’ve been working since the beginning of the year. You need a break, love.”

“I can’t afford to take a break, Fred,” huffed Y/N, her eyes moving to look at the ginger beside her. The dark circles under her eyes looked more prominent in the evening light. The exhaustion and lack of sleep clear on her face.

“You’re being unreasonable. You can take one day off.”

“No I can’t,” snapped Y/N aggravated, “Just because you don’t care about graduating and your future, doesn’t mean everyone else doesn’t either.”

Fred’s face contorted in anger, her words hitting straight home. He got up and stormed away without another word.

George and Lee looked at Y/N disappointed before leaving too, chasing after Fred. Y/N sighed before looking down at the blank parchment on her. She pulled at her hair as she let out a small scream of frustration. Tears that had started to gather in eyes began to flow down her cheeks. She tore the parchment into pieces, throwing it away. Y/N had begun to tremble as she pushed the books around her, attempting to throw them away from her. When there were no more books in close proximity, she curled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, resting her forehead against her knees as she continued to cry.

Y/N’s fingers and toes beginning to freeze but her armpits and palms were sweating, feeling as if the temperature had been turned up a few notches. The world around her blurred out; no longer comprehending her surroundings. The only sound she could hear were her sobs as she gasped for breath. She could feel her heart thumping in her ears, the sound so loud that it almost drowned out the sound of her sobbing gasps. Her chest ached from the lack of oxygen. She could taste the salty tears streaming down her face onto her lips, feel the cold tears travelling to her jaw and down her neck. Any attempt to wipe her face clean was carried out in vain; the tears she wiped were replaced with double the amount.

“Y/N?” she heard a voice call out in the distance.

“Merlin! Y/N breathe with me okay?” the voice sounded nearer, however as if underwater, “Look at me. Y/N, look at me.”

A warm, soft hand rested on Y/N’s cheek guided her face to turn and face the voice’s owner. Y/N’s eyes focused onto the brown eyes of Ginny Weasley.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I’m here. Breathe. You can do that for me right?” she questioned softly, her voice still sounding underwater.

Y/N managed to get a small nod through her panic.

“Breathe in… 1 2 3... Breathe out… 1 2 3... Breathe in… 1 2 3... Breathe out… 1 2 3...” instructed Ginny, “Yes, just like that. Breathe… 1 2 3...” Y/N concentrated on listening to Ginny’s counts, attempting to breathe along with them. Soon enough, Ginny’s voice started to sound clear; Y/N feeling that her head was finally surfacing from the water she was drowning under. After a while, her breathing had started to regulate. A few gulps of air later, Y/N turned her attention to Ginny.

“Thank you,” Y/N muttered, quietly. She glanced away from the ginger-haired girl, not being able to hold eye contact due to the situation she had been caught in.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad I walked by at this time,” said Ginny with a soft smile. Y/N returned a small smile of her own.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you sure? Can I do anything?” Ginny asked, concerned for her brother’s girlfriend; someone whom she saw as her own sister.

“Yes. I’m fine now. I- I think I just need to go and rest for a while. Thank you, Ginny. I’ll see you later,” she said, gathering up her books hastily and leaving.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Things had not gotten better the past few days. If anything, they had become much worse.

Fred and Y/N had not talked, only sparing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. Though she had not mentioned what she had witnessed that day to anyone, Ginny was worried about Y/N; even more when she noticed her and Fred were currently not on speaking terms. George was concerned for both his twin and best friend; Fred was in a constant bad mood and Y/N looked worse for wear. The bags under her eyes looked darker, her skin beginning to turn sallow, her hair unkempt. George hardly saw her eating when she turned up to the Great Hall during any meal, sneaking a few bites in before leaving in a hurry. To say he was worried about her would be quite the understatement.

Y/N felt awful. She could barely get out of bed in the mornings. She was constantly tired, barely paying attention in classes. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, constantly wanting to do nothing but go back to bed. She continued to cry herself to sleep every night, like she had been for the past few weeks; the reason as to why she did not know. Her body ached all over, her head being the worst. She felt lethargic, not having any energy to even pick up a glass of water. She was falling behind on her work, her grades were slipping - they had been for quite a while.

Y/N knew she needed a break. But instead she continued to push herself, the thought of taking a break and falling even more behind or the idea that her grades would worsen not allowing her to have a moment of peace.

The fact that she was fighting with Fred, not having talked to him for a few days, was not helping. She knows she was in the wrong, she should apologize and tell him what’s going on. But for some reason, she didn’t want to admit that she was struggling. Not because she was egoistic, but because she felt she constantly had something to prove. Education was the only thing she excelled in, if she lost that she felt she would be nothing. She was embarrassed to ask for help; she did not want to appear to be a burden to him, to anyone.

“That’s enough!” said George one morning to his older brother. “You both can’t keep going on like this. You need to talk to each other, you’re both miserable.”

Fred sighed, looking away from his breakfast. “I know.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for!? She’s right there,” George said gesturing towards Y/N, sitting at the end of the table with Angelina and Alicia.

He knew he had to talk to her. Fred had noticed something was wrong for weeks now. He knew she was stressed out due to school, crumbling under the pressure and expectations she placed upon herself. But he didn’t want to force himself on her, so he’d decided to wait for her to approach him first. What she’d said had hurt him, no doubt about it, but he knew that she didn’t mean it. It was the outcome of a moment of anger. He had seen her the past few days around the castle too, struggling to carry on with her day. But he was afraid to walk up to her; afraid that she would lash out at him again. Afraid that the angry words that would follow, from both their sides, would worsen the situation.

Taking a deep breath, he walked down the table towards where she sat. Angelina sent him a small smile noticing him walk up to their small group. Fred paused for a moment, gathering up the courage to speak.

Y/N jumped at the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat loudly behind her. She turned to see her boyfriend standing there, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked the same, a bit more troubled than she’d ever seen. He’d developed dark circles under his eyes; an indication he hadn’t been sleeping well, not that she had been either. Other than that, he still looked the same - the same boy that she’d fallen in love with.

“Can we- can we talk?” he asked nervously.

Y/N stared at him for a second before nodding. They both walked out of the Hall and through the corridor before entering an unused classroom. Fred shut the door behind him. The both of them did not speak a word, fidgeting as they gazed around the room, gazing everywhere except each other. Fred decided to take the initiative and start the conversation that was long due. But it seemed Y/N had made the same decision.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time. They both chuckled, the tension in the air disappearing.

Fred moved closer to Y/N, using the few seconds to come up with what to say.

“I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was completely out of line and I didn’t mean it. I could never mean something like that. You- you know I didn’t mean it right? I was just frustrated, and I know that still doesn’t excuse what I said but I’m sorry. I am so so so sorry,” said Y/N, tears brimming her eyes. She took a shaky breath trying to calm herself down.

Fred closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean what you said. I understand, love. It’s okay. Don’t cry, please,” he said softly, his thumbs drawing circles on the soft skin of her cheeks.

“I really am so-” Fred leaned down, cutting her off with a kiss. Y/N’s hand moved to hold Fred’s forearms before slowly moving up his arms to rest on his shoulders. Fred broke the kiss after a while, resting his forehead against hers as his hands moved down to her hips.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I know you’ve been stressed over school; I should’ve been more supportive.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, you-” Fred cut her off with another kiss.

“How about we both stop apologizing and just agree it was no one’s fault, purely circumstantial?” he said.

Y/N hesitated before sighing and nodding knowing she would not win. “Brilliant,” said Fred, pulling her close to wrap her up in a hug. They stood there for a while, basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms - their favourite place to be in the world - after days.

“You know you can come to me for anything, right? No matter how small or stupid you think it is, you have nothing to be embarrassed about with me. And no, you will not be burdening me. I’d be more than happy to help you,” Fred said, pulling away from the hug but still keeping Y/N at a close distance in his arms.

Fred smiled endearingly at the look of surprise that crossed Y/N’s face as she looked up at him. She really thought she’d done a better job at hiding how she felt but it seemed like Fred had seen through everything, just like he always did.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I care about you, Y/N,” Fred said, his hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear gently. His hand remained there, cradling her face, “I notice every miniscule thing about you, whether you want me to or not.”

Y/N averted her eyes, ashamed of herself. How could she ever think Fred would ever judge her badly? The boy whose eyes shined with love and adoration whenever his gaze fell upon her. The boy whose face lit up with the thought or mention of her. The boy who would be ready to give up anything and everything for her, including his dream of owning a joke shop.

“Just promise me you’ll take one day off,” Fred implored. “We can do whatever you want, wherever you want. You need to take one day to relax, love. You can’t keep overworking yourself like this.”

Y/N looked up and nodded with a smile. Fred smiled back, delighted with her compliance, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her skin.

“I love you.”

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins @the-mighty-bookworm @chaoticgirl04 @malfoyspogue @dracofeltonmalfoy

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[iknowicanbutwhy]

Heads up we got an

Adult Hikikomori Sunny AU

I've been waiting to find an AU after the neutral end of the Hikikomori route for a while. What happened to Sunny? How did his life go on after that? Did he go to college? Did he get a fulltime job? Did he figure out what he wants in life?

these are all very good questions because literally anything could be the case. So this AU is just gonna be stuck in a hospital setting for a while.

Here's what I got so far:

Past:

Hospital Psychiatrist (practicing? Training?) Doctor Hero

I imagine after Basil's death, Hero would (eventually) turn to learning how to identify and help people with suicidal tendencies, if he's gonna be a doctor anyway.

In a choice between psychologist and psychiatrist, Hero went psychiatrist. Hero's parents would pressure him into getting a more lucrative job. PLUS psychiatrists go to college for 8 years, then take four more of psychiatry residency. Hero might feel just a little more accomplished, just a little better about himself for earning a higher degree, just to reassure himself that he's working hard and doing his best towards helping people.

Hero did extra studying in psychotherapy. He tried doing it at the same time as he did medical college. He's not.. the best at it because of that, for several reasons, but he knows it's better to combine medicine and conversation. When he has his head on straight, he can manage it.

I have.. no idea whether to put Hero into practice or residency. He'd have to be at least around.. 31, if he were in practice. That's a long time to have unresolved trauma. That's a nice hunk of research i gotta do.

That's it that's all for Hero. His goals are set in the present and focused around other people, as per usual.

Sunny is... not doing so well. He lied about going to college when he moved into some hole far away from his mother. He has no reason to get up in the morning when he can just lie around. He doesn't enjoy whatever hobbies he used to have.

He doesn't even know Basil is gone and he's so bad off.

He's honestly convinced himself that he doesn't care about anything. He still cares about people, however. He'd have stayed with his mom and burdened her with himself if he didn't. When they had moved from Faraway, it was to a cheaper, smaller place. That meant Sunny's mom didn't have to work so much. That meant more time with Sunny. He decided it was.. preferable not to stay.

The only times he does anything is when he tries to remember the past and relearn the person he used to be. What did he do? What did he like? He'd play games, and read comics, and would get frustrated? move on to something else when those did nothing for him, searching for.. some feeling to occur. And then he'd question why, why, why.

Why can't he enjoy anything? Why does he want to feel enjoyment? Why can't he just do something and be happy? Why can't he just do nothing and be fine? Why does he need to exist? Why does he want to move? Why does he want, but can never have, can never get by himself?

If there's nothing he can do, then what is he waiting for?

Vague memories would become clearer with introspection, until he would feel something, finally. An old guilt aching from deep inside his bones. A haunting self hatred, ripping away whatever minuscule strength his limbs had to try anything fun. A sense of iron resignation blanketing and anchoring his body, reminding him that it's much too late to try getting up now. Ironically, apathy got him up in the morning, as much as it keeps him from enjoying anything enough to stay up.

He was always a little too thin, but he used to force himself to do things like eat and work enough to survive. Mostly because to sleep means to not have headaches, and to not have headaches means to eat well enough, and to eat well enough means to have food, and to have food means to have money from a job.

But it's not as if he was all too desperate to sleep, anyway. His dreams have stayed the same for years. They're more eventful and colorful than bland reality, but it's a mix of the same thing every day. Staring at the swirling kaleidoscope of his dreams is exactly like observing the same beige ceiling for hours on end, until it all mixes together into the same shade of empty grey.

It probably doesn't help Sunny's mood that he thinks dramatic things like the previous point, just to pass time.

He only got worse once he was forced to move into one of those really bad apartments. You know the ones, with the rusted metal stairs nobody wants to risk their life on, and practically no privacy with four-to-five thin-walled neighboring rooms, and bad heating in one corner of the apartment. But it was cheap. Too bad he had to go up and down the stairs all the time.

He didn't have a problem with them when he just moved in. Generally, the most he notices is starting at the top, teleporting to the bottom, and a slight shaking of his hands that he barely glances at with empty curiosity.

As it is, some part of him knew this was going to happen. That he'd have one of those terribly introspective weeks, when he just so happens to have his new job with a boss ready to fire him and his sullen face and poor (somehow complete neutrality is offensive) attitude. He's emotionally vulnerable, and the memories on top of the stairs are devastating.

A week goes by. He's fired. He doesn't look for another job. He hasn't gone for groceries in a while. He's exhausted.

He was waiting for death, he guesses. He still wants, still feels that urge in the buzzing of his fingertips, the ghost of movement from his limbs, the phantom shiver in his back - the intent of every muscle in his body one after the other pleading with him to move, but never all at once - and Sunny laments that the human body is pretty stupid. Moving wont help. What would he do, make the end come quicker? He's already thrown away too many chances for that.

He'll stop wanting once he's gone. That's what happens when you get what you want, right?

His landlord finds him. He forgot the rent. He's taken to the hospital. Ugh.

Present:

Sunny is stunted and underweight. He wears baggy shirts stuffed into slightly less baggy hoodies, and sweats. Warmth. He couldn't find his hoodie after they took it off to put in an IV on his first trip to the hospital.

Usually nurses do things like bring food to patients, but Sunny only ever interacts with Hero and Hero wants to make sure Sunny is okay anyway. Not that it's much easier for Hero to encourage Sunny to eat.

Sunny stresses Hero the hell out. But Hero kinda missed Sunny, and his depressing and concerning reappearance brings with it a deadpan, world-weary, often childish humor that fails to take anything seriously when everything in Sunny's situation should be taken seriously. It's as much a relief as it is incredibly frustrating. Some days Hero loves it. Some days it makes him angry. Some days it makes him want to cry.

I tried doing research into the conduct Hero should display regarding patients/clients in general but it just. Any professionalism quickly devolves between him and Sunny.

As in, at one point, him and Sunny were whaling on each other about having no lives. Hero felt really bad afterwards; he had no idea what came over him. It was a great way for both of them to let out some hidden frustration, though, and they turned out fine afterwards. They even lowkey pick on each other every now and again.

Sometimes one or the other gets a bit too accurate in their teasing, however.

Psychiatrists are supposed to be able to understand, diagnose, and treat mental, emotional and behavioral disorders. So, if Hero were a completely capable psychiatrist, which he is, he wouldn't break down in front of his client. But Hero's late teenage years are wrought with so much grief and trauma, so to see Sunny and not just another client in this state is.. something i imagine he'd break down about eventually. There's also the fact that Sunny is mostly closed off to any help, which only makes things harder.

Hero is trying his best, but after years of never understanding why Mari died, years of thinking and wondering and second-guessing himself, years of guilt after never visiting Basil before he died, years of doing what he was told was "best" yet failing in what's most important to him (his friends) - his best never feels good enough around Sunny. It feels too little, too late. For this reason, and possibly because even if Hero were able to keep himself together he may just not be the right psychiatrist for Sunny, it would be better for him to find another psychiatrist for Sunny. He won't, though.

Hero really needs some time to himself to just think, or perhaps he needs someone else to talk to. Kel is nice, but Aubrey would have better experience handling emotions.

I have a very limited idea of what Aubrey and Kel are doing. Aubrey is a childcare instructor to parents and works in child services. She has studied child psychology. She has studied how childhood affects adulthood. Kel's off trying to make a name in basketball while giving kids high fives and heartfelt support.

Hero, in fact, does not like to be called Dr. Hero, but his shyness (feeling of unworthiness) about it only endears everyone to call him that more. He tells the kids that everyone calls him Hero, but the adults merely find out from the other doctors and nurses. Hero tried introducing himself as Henry to the other doctors, but Kel told them his nickname, and it stuck for obvious reasons.

Sometimes, on days when Hero has to wear his lab coat, he ties it around his neck like a cape. The kids like it, say it makes him look like a superHero.

Hero doesn't really cook. His schedule is always too busy to make anything that isn't quick. But he does eventually figure out that cooking for Sunny is the best way to entice him to eat, so when he makes something, he makes enough for both of them. They eat together.

Hero had to gather Sunny's change of clothes from his apartment when he found out that the reason Sunny has been in the same clothes for the last week is because he's had no one to visit him. Not even his mother. Why?

[cuddlepilefics]

can you do a skz one where Chan is working hard for a comeback, doing a lot of writing, producing, ect. but then he gets a cold, (snz centered) but he refuses to take a break, so Felix has to force him to take a break. With lots of Chanlix fluff please. 🥺🥺 (p.s I LOVE your writing, you are quite talented, and just have a way with words. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ love you ❤️)

Thank you, this really means a lot to me considering that English isn’t my first language.

I alread wrote something similar. You can find it here.

It’s never this cold in Australia

 Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Chan

Caregiver: Felix

 No one’s POV.:

Stray Kids would have another comeback soon, which left them with almost twice as much work as usual. Felix hated those times when they prepared for comebacks, not because he didn’t like to make new music, hell, he loved making new music, rather because Chan would always overdo it on himself and the younger could do nothing but watch the leader run himself into the ground. This time was no different and it had actually been a few days since any of the members had seen their leader apart from the dance practices they spent together. Not even Changbin and Jisung were allowed to stay in the studio with their hyung because after the songs were written and most lines were recorded, Chan had to edit them. Since the other two members of 3racha wouldn’t be able to help much with editing other than approving or disapproving, they were more of a distraction to the Aussie, so in hopes of not stressing him out more, they left him to work in peace. Maybe if there were no distractions, he’d finish faster and take the time to rest afterwards. However, assuming there were no distractions, was wishful thinking. There certainly still were distractions, the worst of them a headache that had started bothering Chan a few days ago. He wasn’t surprised at all, considering he slept even less than usual, spending day and night looking at his laptop screen. The Aussie was no stranger to headaches, often overworking himself. The only thing he was grateful for was that he hadn’t had a migraine yet like he always got them when he was too stressed and sleep-deprived.

As days passed, the headache wasn’t the only thing bothering him. After falling asleep in front of his laptop at the studio again, Chan woke up with a completely blocked nose. Unable to breathe through it in the slightest. The pain had shifted right between his brows, causing his eyes to water. The light coming from the screen in front of him didn’t help either and after saving all his open files, he closed the laptop. Feeling more exhausted than he had in a while, he dropped his head onto the desk and closed his eyes again. If he had the energy, he’d move to the couch at the back of the studio and allow himself a small nap. Not longer than an hour though because he couldn’t afford losing the time he needed to finish everything before their deadlines. He had slept just fine in his chair earlier but now it didn’t work anymore, leaving the Aussie to just sit with his eyes closed, head on his arms, as he started overthinking. Sure, the headache could be caused by exhaustion but now his nose was stuffed up and he felt so cold. If he could, he’d get up and adjust the air conditioning but getting up sounded way too tiring. Though Chan didn’t want to admit it to himself, he could tell he was coming down with something and the thought of getting sick stressed him out. What if he wouldn’t be able to meet the deadlines? No! He could! He had worked through illnesses quite a few times before, so why shouldn’t he manage to do that now?

He didn’t know how much time had passed but his phone started to buzz with a reminder that he had to be at the practice room within the next ten minutes. Groaning at the thought of having to move around and music blearing loudly, Chan forced himself up and tried to remind himself of the positive things. Maybe dancing would help warm him up and he wouldn’t feel so cold afterwards. Stumbling to the door of his studio, the Aussie braced himself against the door frame and drew in a shaky breath. His nose tingled, causing his eyes to water before he ducked into the crook of his elbow with a rough sounding sneeze. Chan cleared his throat, wincing at how raw it felt, and used his sleeve to dab away the irritated tears that had spilled from his eyes. Trying to pull himself together, he made his way to the practice room and occasionally rubbed his arms to generate warmth. His previously blocked nose had started to run and he sniffled lightly before pushing the door open and cringing at the bright ceiling lights. Most of his dongsaengs were already there, stretching or going over short sequences of the choreography that they didn’t feel confident in yet. “Hyung!”, Jisung yelled, jogging over and hugging the leader, “Guys, he’s alive! Hyung, I didn’t think we’d get to see you anymore.” Chan barely noticeably flinched at the rapper’s loud voice and hesitantly hugged back, grateful for some warmth.

After some more teasing about not having seen the oldest in ages, they moved on to practicing but it didn’t go too well for Chan. Just standing upright already made him feel lightheaded, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that the fast step sequences caused the oldest to stumble frequently. His head was thumping with the same beat blasting from the speakers as Chan braced himself on his knees panting. It was only now that he noticed how difficult it was to breathe through a nose that was stuffed up and somehow runny at the same time. The dancing also hadn’t done much to warm him up like he had hoped it would. Usually he’d dance in a t-shirt only but today, he wore a sweater over his t-shirt, not even taking it off after one hour of dancing when all of the members were drenched in sweat. To be fair, he was drenched in sweat too but at the same time, he still felt cold. Seeing how out of breath their oldest was, Minho announced they’d have a ten-minute break to drink something and catch their breaths. They all knew Chan didn’t like to be called out when he wasn’t doing as well as usual, so the others just went to drink something and chat with each other, while Felix made his way over to his fellow Aussie, lowly asking: “Hey, you alright there? You’re looking pretty tired.” – “I am, both. Just haven’t been sleeping much”, the older replied quietly, letting out a shaky breath as he sat down next to his bag. Uncapping his water bottle, he struggled it really drink something because he couldn’t breathe while there was water in his mouth.

Chan put his bottle back into his bag and closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose, willing the headache away. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”, Felix hummed, sitting down next to his friend. The leader shrugged, sniffling: “Jus’ goin’ back to the studio. There’s so much I still need to finish and I don’t nearly have the time to.” The younger hummed in acknowledgement, not pointing out how miserable the other sounded. Felix could tell Chan was sick, the fact that he never took off his sweater being a dead giveaway, the slight rasp and congestion present in his voice only a confirmation. There was something else the dancer knew, the older wouldn’t do anything different from when he was healthy, he’d still work as long and as hard. This was one of the things he hated the most, watching his friend suffer but not being able to help because Chan didn’t want help. Help in this case would mean standing between him and his work and the leader would never tolerate that. Right now, it almost looked like he was dozing of against the wall and Minho felt guilty as he had to call them back to practicing. Felix got up first, reaching out both hands to pull Chan up, smiling sympathetically: “You sure you’re up for more dancing?” – “Lix, come on. I’m fine, really. We nee- ne - we need hESH! *sniff* we need to get this perfect”, the leader replied with a watery smile, that Felix could tell was entirely fake.

He also could tell that Chan was really frustrated with himself. Most of the group already had the dance moves down, the only one still struggling was their leader. They knew the sole reason for his difficulty with the choreography was that he wasn’t feeling well, whether that meant he was sick like Felix claimed or just sleep-deprived from all the hours he had worked through the night. Since they had mastered the dance and knew Chan would master it too when he was feeling better, Minho and Hyunjin, who were in charge of their practice session, called it a day. They convinced Chan that it was only scheduled for two hours and that they had different schedules now. It wasn’t entirely true but they were certain the oldest would end up either hurting himself or fainting if he kept dancing. After their practice was officially over, the group dispersed and practiced the things they wanted to improve for their comeback, singing, rapping or secretly returning to the practice room after Chan went back to his studio. Felix had tried to convince him to come back to the dorm, to take a warm shower and eat a proper meal but the older was stubborn, almost getting mad at the boy who only tried to help him. It wasn’t like the leader didn’t want to take a warm shower to get rid of the sweat and the chill that had settled bone-achingly deep but he was already stressed enough as it was and he knew it would only get more stressful if he wasted time that could better be spent working.

At this point, Felix knew he wouldn’t achieve anything by pestering the older. He’d only make him angry and cause him to hole himself up inside the studio even more, so he relented and watched with a heavy heart as the leader shuffled back to the studio. From around the corner, he heard two painful sounding sneezes and sadly shook his head, walking off into the opposite direction. If he couldn’t get Chan to come home with him, he’d at least get him a fresh t-shirt and hoodie because if the older wasn’t already sick, he’d certainly be after sitting in a room with air conditioning, wearing his sweat-through practice clothes. Unsure about the last time the leader had a decent meal, Felix also took the time to make some soup, pouring it into a thermos and packing a bowl and spoon, so his hyung could eat it at the studio. He grabbed a big sports bag and filled it with fresh clothes, the soup and a thick scarf the older had bought him during the first winter Felix experienced in Korea. Shortly before leaving the dorm again, he remembered to also shove a travel pack of tissues into the bag. If only Chan would take better care of himself.

The leader sat in front of his laptop, suppressing the urge to cry as the screen blurred in front of him. By now, one of his sleeves was constantly pressed against his nose, either to rub at it as he sniffled quietly or to keep him from sneezing all over his keyboard. He couldn’t tell when exactly his nose had gotten so sensitive but it only took as much as one slightly too forceful breath to make it start tickling again, which in turn would make his eyes water more and cause him to see even less of the screen in front of him, yet Chan refused to admit that his attempts of getting something done were unsuccessful. The leader pulled both of his sleeves over his palms to rub at his itchy face, sighing in frustration. His breath started to hitch again and giving into the feeling this time, he simply kept his sleeves over his face, waiting. "h-hESSH! hISH’iew!” He sniffled carefully before he dared to remove his hands, instead swiping his sleeves under his eyes to dry them. When did he start feeling this bad? Sure, he had started to feel this cold coming on earlier, yet he never thought it would cause him more than some congestion. Blinking at his screen, his eyes instantly started to water again, still, he tried to work through it, determined he wouldn’t let a cold keep him from meeting his deadlines.

Chan had taken off his shoes after some time, pulling his legs closer to his body as he curled up in his chair, trying to stay warm. He had already adjusted the air conditioning when he came back to the studio but it didn’t help much. By the time Felix arrived to the studio, it seemed like the leader was staring through his laptop screen rather than at it. He also didn’t notice the younger’s arrival, startling when Felix appeared next to him. The dancer heard him mumble something incoherent, not understanding a word but frowning at how out of it the older was. “Sorry, what was that?”, he hummed, resting a hand on Chan’s shoulder. The leader cleared his throat before repeating: “I said, ‘s never this cold in Australia.” The younger was stunned, to him it felt pretty toasty in the small studio after the air conditioning had been completely turned off. Worriedly he pressed his palm against his hyung’s forehead, causing the older to shudder. He clicked his tongue, stating: “Well, I can tell you why you feel cold. You’re feverish, which I’m pretty sure you knew already.” – “I-I hhh… hh’HDJsHhiew!” – “Mhm, exactly my point. You’re sick and should come home to rest”, Felix emphasized. That seemed to wake Chan. The drowsy fog in his head disappeared as his eyes finally focused on his dongsaeng, arguing: “I can’t. There’s still so much to do, I’m not going to finish this on time. God, I’m already so behind with everything. The comeback is too soon. If I don’t at least finish another three songs tonight, it’ll be a disaster.”

Sighing, Felix turned his chair away from his laptop, so it was facing him instead. “Hyung, it won’t. I know it’s already great as it is and Stay will agree with me. There’s still enough time till the comeback and Binnie-hyung and Sungie can help you. Besides, I don’t think you’re going to get much done with a fever like this”, he tried to reason. Face hardening, Chan got out of his chair, voice raised: “How would you know if the time is enough? You have no idea how many more songs I still have to edit. Those people won’t be Stay anymore if I can’t give him the music they are expecting from us. I could get stuff done tonight if you weren’t distracting me from it!” Voice cracking and giving out towards the end, the leader dropped back into his chair. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he mumbled apologies over and over again. He had never meant to snap at the younger like this and he’d also never raised his voice at Felix like this. Biting his lip, Felix pulled himself out of his dazed stupor. Chan’s outburst had been unexpected but he was sure the older didn’t mean it, so he forced down his shaken-up emotions and embraced the other, who quietly hiccupped, wiping at his eyes.

“Ssh, you’re okay. It’s okay, hyung. Everything’s just a bit too much right now, hm?”, he whispered, running his hand through the other’s disheveled curls. Chan nodded with a wet sniffle, trying to fight back the tears that just continued coming. His bottled-up stress and frustration now bubbling over. Pulling him to his feet, Felix guided the older over to the couch and sat down with him after quickly retrieving the bag he had brought. He pulled out the tissues and handed them to Chan, who messily wiped his cheeks before blowing his nose, irritating it again. “hISH’iew!” – “Bless you”, the dancer hummed, handing him another tissue as the first was already soggy. He kept rubbing his friend’s back, hugging him from time to time as he waited for the older to cry his emotions off of his chest. It took almost twenty minutes for Chan to calm himself down again. He didn’t even know why he was so upset, mainly feeling emotional and sensitive from his fever. Seeing he was still shivering slightly, Felix pulled out the scarf he had brought with him and laid it across the leader’s shoulders before rubbing his arms up and down. The older closed his eyes and leaned against the back of the couch, clearing his throat repeatedly. “Does your throat hurt too?”, the younger asked quietly. Chan shook his head, rasping: “’s jus’ dry from breathing through my mouth.” – “Oh, have some water then”, Felix instructed, handing him the bottle from his desk. He didn’t fully believe his hyung, so he was going to find out the truth differently. Of course, Chan’s wince didn’t go unnoticed as it was obvious swallowing hurt him.

Rolling his eyes at the leader’s stubbornness, Felix handed him the fresh clothes. It took some prodding because Chan was feeling way too cold to take off the shirt he was wearing but he felt much more comfortable in his clean hoodie afterwards. The younger was now wrapping the scarf around his neck to protect his already strained voice from further harm, while Chan was already dozing off in his sitting position. Gently nudging his arm, Felix reminded: “Come on, we still need to go home before you sleep. Did you eat already?” The leader shook his head. “You can either eat a late dinner back at the dorm or I brought you some soup. You could eat here and then go straight to bed when we get back”, he offered. This time Chan nodded. Furrowing his brows, the younger asked: “Yes to which option?” – “Straight to bed”, Chan muttered, barely staying awake. Felix quickly took out the soup he had prepared, glad when he found it still steaming, and agreed: “You can you straight to bed but please eat this first. You can’t run on protein shakes, granola bars and coffee the entire time.” – “That works pretty well”, the older argued, blowing onto the spoon. The dancer rolled his eyes, muttering: “Well, that’s debatable.” They sat in silence, apart from Chan’s soft sniffles, as the leader ate the first warm meal he had had in a week. He didn’t want to admit it but the soup felt nice, warming his sore throat and his entire body from the inside. Plus, His dongsaeng certainly wasn’t a bad cook, at least not as far as he could taste with his nose blocked.

Felix packed up the things he had brought, while Chan saved his files and slid his laptop into his backpack, ready to let the younger take him home. Although the thought of leaving the building into the night didn’t seem too appealing, the leader reminded himself of the warm bed waiting for him at the dorm. A bit lightheaded still, he relied fully on Felix’ arm around his waist, guiding him home as his eyes fought to stay open. He got even more unsteady as his breath hitched and he gripped onto the younger’s shoulder for support. The dancer slowed down even more, steadying his hyung as he brought up his arm sneezing into the crook of his arm twice, almost toppling over. “Bless you. We’re almost there”, Felix promised, dragging a sniffly Chan down another block towards their dorm building. The leader looked dead on his feet as the light in the entrance hall of the building illuminated his face. The younger wince as he grasped just how much the older’s condition had declined since their practice in the afternoon. Quietly whimpering, Chan pulled his hood further over his face to block out the uncomfortably bright light that made his eyes burn and head pound. After what seemed like a whole journey, they made it up to their dorm, kicking off their shoes. As promised, Felix walked the leader straight to his room where all the older did was changing into thicker sweatpants before curling up under his blanket. Felix left the room for a few minutes and returned with some water and medicine, whispering: “Since you ate something earlier, you can take something for your fever and headache now. I’ll leave the water on your nightstand in case you get thirsty or your throat bothers you during the night.” With a grateful but hoarse hum, Chan took the medicine before curling up again and burying his face in his blanket. "hESH! *sniff*” – “Bless you. Do you want cuddles?”, the younger offered. Shaking his head, the older replied pitifully: “Don’t want to get you sick too.” – “I didn’t ask you if you wanted to get me sick, I asked if you wanted cuddles”, Felix chuckled. Letting out a shaky laugh, Chan admitted: “I-I guess I do.” – “Alright, scoot over. Don’t worry if you still feel cold, you’ll get your very personal Australian sun.”