#but i tried long hair so shed at least be recognizable...

[milkbreadtoast]

Ham Ga-in design test... idk if I'd go with this design but I just tried to stay close to her ep 1 appearance + added freckles for some variation kdjfj...

edit: added some more doodles🥺 this design is growing on me aldjsldn🫣

[shintin]

Forget Me Not: Chapter 5 (Sea)

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Description: Imagine that from the moment you opened your eyes into this world, you had no choice but to kill and shed the blood of others, that you had to fight alongside Toji Fushiguru and die with him.

What would you do when they force you to do something you don't like? When the torment of conscience presses on your throat, will you give up? Now think about a day that life gives you another chance; how would you use it?

This is the story of a murderer who seeks salvation. Will she find it in the arms of Satoru Gojo? Or will pain find her sooner than redemption and drive her out of heaven forever?

Genre: heavy angst, sad love story, maybe tragedy, violence, lonely hearts, broken souls, +18.

Tags/Warnings: mentions of suicide attempts, angst, etc.

Author Note: There are pictures related to the story at the end of the chapter :)

Song Recommendation: Evgeny Grinko - Carousel

Chapter index -> Next chapter

Year: 2018

The woman took another step towards the stormy sea. It was raining heavily, making her hair and clothes wet.

The tears on the woman's face were hardly recognizable in the rain. Her sobs were drowned out by thunder.

The woman looked at her hands with wet eyes. How many peoples' blood was spilled on her hands? How many children grew up without a parent because of her?

About eleven years ago, Y/N decided not to take any more innocent lives, but as a murderer, how correct was her judgment?

How much more valuable was her life to take away the lives of others so selfishly? And what for, the sake of living longer? Every night, guilt was eating her alive.

After eleven years of waiting, finally, today was the day that Y/N decided to put an end to everything.

She took another step towards the sea. At least, she had no one to miss her. No one had to cry for her. Her death will not upset anyone. No one will remember her, and so easily, she will be forgotten ... as if she never existed.

The woman took a final step towards the sea. The waves were hitting her knees hard. She raised her hand and tried to wipe away her tears and die bravely for the last time.

Y/N looked at the sea, closed her eyes, and moved forward, wishing she could have had a better life as the cold water hit her head and face.

But fate was there with her too, and it had other plans. Suddenly Y/N's heart ached with pain before she could completely surrender herself to the sea.

The pain felt as if someone had removed a piece of her being. The same part she had been looking for, for a long time. In an instant, it was as if she had finally found that piece and lost it simultaneously. Her breath was short because of the pain. The waves hit her hard, and she was not far from drowning. She pressed one hand on her heart and tried to pull herself to the beach with the other.

She was lying on the beach with her hair stuck to her face. With her hand still on her heart, she coughed, and the seawater came out of her mouth. She raised her head and looked around before getting up. She didn't know how, but she was sure where to go.

Y/N had to go to a place where death awaited her. She had to see what was lacking in her life before she could die in peace.

Raindrops were dripping from Y/N's head as she stood in front of the entrance of a familiar place. The same school she had come out of it with Riko Amanai's lifeless body years ago. She knew well that she would face a terrible death if she took another step, and she took it anyway. She had nothing to lose.

At Jujutsu School

"Shoko, you know in your heart that their act was intentional. They deliberately sent me on a mission overseas so they could kill Sukuna's vessel. I should have known that they couldn't easily cope with the delay in Yuji's death sentence!" Satoru crossed his legs one over the other and looked at Shoko Ieiri with folded arms.

"I didn't expect to see you get emotional, Satoru. As a matter of the fact, I doubted all these years that if the emotional part of your brain is working at all or not." Shoko said while putting her gloves on.

"Why should I not have feelings? Am I a fish? Also, I oppose the idea of killing innocent people," Satoru said with a fake frown, adjusting his blindfold.

"Please, Satoru, don't insult poor fish."

Satoru stuck out her tongue and turned his gaze to the dead body in the morgue room.

The two could be heard from the outside. The corridor lights leading to the mortuary were flickering. It was a stormy night, but nobody knew the real storm was coming.

Meanwhile, a tall man with glasses and black hair was running towards the morgue; he stopped behind the door, hurriedly knocked on it before letting himself inside.

Ijichi, a staff member at the Jujutsu School, stood in front of the white-haired man and the brown-haired woman.

"Y/N Kamo came at the school gates and surrendered without resistance. She insists that there is someone here she must-see."

Satoru and Shoko exchanged glances. "Didn't she say who she wants to see?"

"She said she doesn't know either," Ijichi wiped the sweat from his forehead while looking at frowning Satoru. Shoko looked at him and asked, "Ijichi, when you say Y/N Kamo, you mean Toji Fushiguro's fellow, whom no one has been able to capture in eleven years, right?"

Ijichi nodded.

Shoko turned to Satoru. "Did you see Y/N Kamo when you were looking for Toji Fushiguro?"

"Nope, she was gone before I arrive. Rumors say that she can hide her cursed energy, So I still couldn't recognize her even if she was hiding somewhere near. I know her just from the rumors."

Meanwhile, school principal Masamichi Yaga entered the morgue.

"If we want to rely on rumors, I have heard many curse users say she can become a dragon. I have also heard she has stopped killing others because she was looking for redemption."

"You can end her, but you can't mend her," Satoru grinned.

Masamichi Yaga turned to Ijichi. "So there is only one way to know the truth. Bring her in. If she pulls a game, she will not leave this room alive."

A few minutes later, a woman in rain-soaked clothes and wet hair entered the room. Chains and talismans adorned her hands and feet, and they would tingle with her whenever she moved.

The woman's gaze, regardless of the others in the room, quickly turned to the body of a teenage boy with pink hair lying motionless on the morgue bed.

The woman wanted to move towards Yuji's lifeless body. Still, Satoru was faster and grabbed the end of the woman's chain.

"Calm down, pussy cat, or you won't get any treat."

The woman turned her head and looked at Satoru's face with red eyes that seemed to shed tears for hours. "I know you won't let me out of this room alive. Please. I just want to see him." She didn't seem angry or hostile.

'So she knew that if she came here, she would die. But why did she still come? What's her trick? Is she looking for Sukuna? If she is looking for Sukuna, why didn't she come to serve him before Yuji's death?' Satoru thought. He loosened the chains a little. The woman quickly turned her head and moved towards the bed.

Y/N approached the lifeless body of the boy. The boy looked as if he was smiling in the last moments of his life. This boy, whoever he was, was dead before she could arrive. Y/N didn't know why seeing this boy's lifeless body made her so sad. Her eyes filled with tears without knowing the reason why.

She couldn't do anything about her missing piece. It was time to say goodbye. So she took the teenage boy's cold hands and bent her head to kiss his cheek.

Suddenly, Y/N's ears filled with a disgusting laugh. She turned her head, but no one in the room was laughing.

"Hey, brat, don't look for me in the room. I'm in your stupid mind. Just close your eyes and you will see me."

Y/N closed her eyes without hesitating, acting like she was praying.

"King of curses, Sukuna, right?"

"I didn't think I would have the chance to see one of the cursed wombs alive again. I have met some of your siblings, but I must say, you are the good looking one."

She was familiar with this tone. She didn't need to react and make him even more eager to torture her. "What do you want?" Y/N asked with a frown.

"You're a straightforward woman, han? Don't you want to play?"

"What do you want?" she asked again. As I said before, she had nothing to lose, so acting bravely in front of Sukuna could be her last memorable act before the curtains fall.

Sukuna didn't like her tone, but he was mused with the creature before him. "Somehow, this stupid boy seems very important to you; I'll bring him back to life for you. In return for my kindness, you'll make a binding vow with me that when I eat 20 fingers, you'll be my obedient and serve me unconditionally. You know that you will die if you break your vow?"

Y/N thought for a moment. 'I am going to be executed anyway, but I have a opportunity to bring this boy back to life.'

"Deal."

Sukuna smirked mischievously, and Y/N opened her eyes. Satoru's face was a few inches from her face.

Without moving, Y/N looked into Satoru's blindfold, knowing his blue eyes were under it. Satoru put his hand under his chin and looked more closely at her face, eyes, cheeks, and ... rosy lips. She looked familiar.

At the same time, Ijichi looked terrified and pointed to the morgue bed.

The pink-haired boy was sitting on the bed, looking at the audience in surprise.

"Did I drink too much, or did we just see a dead person come to life?" Shoko took off her gloves and rubbed her forehead with her hands.

Masamichi Yaga put his glasses on and took a deep breath.

A faint smile formed on Y/N's lips, and a strange feeling of calm flowed down her face. Seeing Y/N's smile, Satoru turned his head back. After seeing Yuji Itadori alive, a big smile appeared on his face as well.

"Welcome back to life, Yuji."

At that moment, Y/N remembered the first moments of her life when Toji had welcomed her. Before the smile could fade from her face, Satoru quickly pressed his hand to her forehead and the woman's eyes closed. Again, she felt no pain at all.

A/N: Y/N in the sea:

photo from: glenna marshall

[wastelandwitch77]

SO I absolutely love historical dress, and I saw The Bad Batch western AU by @hellothere-generalangsty , so I had to do this. (I’m also going to tag @mintywriteswritings because I first found the AU through her and she writes beautiful fics for it) Our view of the wild west is very 1950′s Hollywood, which is fine, but I just wanted to design some historically accurate costumes. (I made one for myself too because I wanted to design another dress) I’ve been working on this for at least a month? I think? So here’s the (mostly) historically accurate Bad Batch. If you want to read more about my decisions or research, you want to learn more about historical accuracy for your fics, or just think historical fashion is fun, please keep reading under the cut. 

Our time period here is the late 1860′s.

I want to emphasize that this is DAY WEAR. This is what you’d be wearing around town or at work or at home. Evening wear is an entirely different beast altogether.

 I guess I’ll start with Tech. Tech is the most fashionable. He’s a city boy and a doctor, and has access to more expensive fabrics, as well as knowing more about what’s trending. Everyone else is a year or two behind the fashion because it takes a while for the fashion to move out west. 

His frock coat is very in fashion.

Working class people tried to stay on the fashions just as much as wealthier people, they just used what they had, typically adapting garments they already had to suit the new styles.

Lower class and working class people typically had maybe 4? outfits total. Two to switch out day to day, a “Sunday Best” to wear to church, and then something to wear to fancy occasions like dances and weddings (evening wear). Tech, being a bit wealthier, may have a few more than that. 

Undergarments were changed everyday and washed more frequently than the outer clothing. Typically the outer clothing isn’t touching your skin much so that it didn’t get sweaty and didn’t have to be washed often. (washing=more wear and tear on the clothes) Aprons were worn during work to also keep the clothing from getting soiled. 

The dropped shoulder seam and bishop sleeve was the go-to for both men and women.

Men would not go any where with at least a vest over their shirt if there were to be any women present (except their wife). Just the button up shirt is essentially like being in your underwear. 

Likewise, women would never, EVER, have their hair down around men (except their husband.) 

Woman’s hair was always parted in the middle (side part was only for men) and pulled into an up-do low on the head. 

I had to cut Hunter’s hair, because long hair for men was only found on Confederates during this time and I just could not stand for that. 

The modern cowboy hat didn’t exist yet. The hat here is “The Boss of the Plains.” It had only recently been created but was an instant hit. If the time period was any earlier than the 1860′s your cowboys would’ve been wearing a bowler hat. 

If you are a woman, YOU ARE WEARING A DRESS. If you wore menswear at this time, you would get laughed out of town. No trousers. Not until at least the 1910′s did it become somewhat acceptable for women to wear pants at all. Yes, even while riding a horse, which means...

WOMEN ALWAYS RODE SIDE SADDLE. No exceptions. Not in the 1860′s. 

WOMEN ARE WEARING CORSETS. YES, EVEN WORKING IN THE FIELDS. Corsets have been given a bad name by modern media, don’t fall for it. I could go on about corsets for hours if you let me. They did not restrict your movement or breathing. They weren’t laced tightly. They just provided structure and essentially functioned as the precursor to the bra. If it is before 1920, you are wearing a corset.

This is a mistake that’s made a lot, but you wore a chemise under your corset. Your corset does not touch your bare skin.

Women wore crinolines (kind of like a hoop skirt) that were slightly fuller at the back (getting ready for the bustle that was popular in the 1870′s). This is likely the only undergarment that MIGHT have been shed during hard labor.

Working women still wore full length dresses, only hemmed maybe an inch shorter for ease of movement.

Clothes for children were just smaller versions of adult clothes, really. 

Young boys (like under the age of 6?) wore dresses until they were older.

Women and girls would’ve worn bonnets, but I think bonnets are fugly so I didn’t draw any. 

There were just so, SO many amputations performed during the Civil War that the entire culture around disability changed. There was better accessibility and technology for disabled people than ever before. 

I don’t think Tech would let Echo look shabby so he always makes sure that Echo is dressed appropriately. 

I gave Echo a frock coat like Tech’s to mimic his kama, but then I put him in a wheelchair so you can’t even see it. 

For shirts, dresses, and vests, they didn’t really do solid fabrics during this period. The more elaborate the pattern the better.

A shaved head on both men and women indicated that they were either ill or were recently ill (consumption, anyone?)

I based Hunter’s birthmark on my irl uncle Doug, who was a real cowboy.

I allowed hair-dye and bleach to exist because it helps keep the characters recognizable and also because I can. 

The funnest part of this project was probably designing the patterns on the clothes. 

My favorite design is probably Tech.

Menswear is kind of boring. It doesn’t change much after the Regency period. It was very tedious reading about the varying width of lapels in the 1800′s. 

Overall, this period of fashion is not my favorite. This project made me yearn for the vastly superior 1890′s-1910′s era. But I still had a lot of fun. 

If you still have questions feel free to ask. I don’t have a degree in historical fashion or anything, but I did hella research for this and if I know the answer to your question I’m happy to help. 

[darthkruge]

Hi! I've seen that in your recent post you've been trying to make characters more gender neutral which I think is awesome! I'm gonna try and make my request gender neutral as well! I was wondering if you could do a criminal minds imagine (I'll let you choose the character that you wanna write it for cus I love Morgan, Hotch, and Reid equally) where the reader was taken by the unsub but they found her right before the unsub tried to (tw) k!ll the reader. If possible can the end be kinda fluffy♡

Spencer Reid x Reader ~ Maybe

Summary: The classic kidnapping fic where the reader is taken by the unsub and Spencer finds them. Fluffy, comfort-filled ending <3

Warnings: Angst, language, violence, blood, guns, knives, torture, near-death experience, kidnapping in general, (happy ending I promise)

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Hey!! I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me for taking so long to get to this!! And thank you for making your request gender neutral, too! That’s so thoughtful and sweet! And I decided to go with Spencer, although I also love them all. And yes the end will definitely be fluffy, as the angst with a happy/fluffy ending is basically my brand at this part. Thank you for requesting and, again, I’m so sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!

You woke up and could only register pain. Well, pain and cold. Mind numbing, cuts to your bones, pierces your brain, cold. You tried to look around and get a sense of your surroundings but it was so dark; you could barely make out the shadows in the room, let alone any defining details.  

Judging by the old, dirty smell, you guessed you were in a barn or shed somewhere. You had no idea where; the asshole must have knocked you out. You’d been working the case for weeks. The team thought they found some DNA and were tailing the guy, but it didn’t pan out and, since then, the trail had basically been cold. But then you finally figured out what number to trace, cracked his encoded router, and got a license plate and ID. George Craig. On your way to tell the team, he had messed with your car and was able to jump you. Fuck, you hated him. 

Even so, you refused to give up. You had faith in your team and, most of all, you had faith in Spencer. Your brilliant, gorgeous boyfriend. You loved him more than anything and there was no one in the world you’d want on the case more than him. You knew the team was already looking for you, as it was only 10am when he got you and it was probably at least 7pm now, judging by the temperature and darkness. 

You tried to move your arms but your shoulders screamed in protest. You felt the chains around your legs and the handcuffs binding you to a pole above you. Judging from the pain, your shoulder was almost definitely dislocated. You were sitting at an awkward angle and could already feel your joints tightening. The frigid air definitely wasn’t helping, making your muscles contract and body stiff. 

“Hello, Agent L/N”

Your entire body stilled at that moment, sheer panic running through your veins. Stay calm, Y/N, stay calm. You tried to will air into your lungs, forcing deep breaths even though the terror was screaming at you to close up. You knew this man fed on fear and, thus, your best chance of survival was to pretend you were unphased. Even so, the logic felt severely discomforting with him standing above you, knife and gun in hand. 

“George. What the fuck do you want from me?” Your voice was venomous, the pure hate for him clearly pictured on your face. You decided that if an emotion was going to show, you preferred hate to fear. 

“My, my, my, look at you! I thought you were supposed to be smart. Or is that trait left for your boyfriend. Agent Reid, was it?”

Your blood ran cold. “Leave him out of this.”

“Ohhh, looks like I’ve hit a nerve, haven’t I?” The man had a horrifying smirk on his face, clearly enjoying your struggle. 

You glared at him. “You never answered my question”

“Oh, yes!” George chuckled, “What the fuck do you want from me?” He said, mimicking your voice mockingly. “To kill you, of course. To take you away from Spencer, from the team. To make them feel the pain of losing someone, just like I lost-” 

He trailed off and you saw his eyes burn with anger. And under that anger, you knew there was pain. Even so, you couldn’t feel bad for this man, regardless of who he’d lost. You knew that at the slightest hint of your empathy, he’d take advantage of it and kill you on the spot. 

“You know what? Death would be too easy for you. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to put you out of your misery. Then, and only then, will I shoot you. I will watch the blood run out of the bullet hole and smile, knowing the pain I caused you and your precious team.”

You wanted to cry, the fear pulling at you. Once again, you pushed it down and channeled your rage. Rage because you were in this situation. Rage because this man had ended so many lives. Rage because you were powerless right now. Rage because holy fuck your shoulder hurt. Gathering the fury, you spat at him. 

George’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he brought his leg up and slammed it into your chest. You heaved, the wind knocked out of you. Before you could grasp the air you so desperately needed, George kicked you again. And again. And again. You could feel the bruises forming, your ribs throbbing painfully.

He pulled his fist up and pummeled it into your cheek. Your left cheekbone busted open on impact and your lip split as he backhanded the other side of your face. He slammed the butt of his gun into your temple and your vision swayed, body crumpling as far in on itself as it could, given the restraints. 

He kicked at your legs repeatedly, both of them twisting at painful angles. You felt yourself start to black out, the pain unbearable. Every inch of your skin was ablaze, every muscle felt like it had been sledgehammered. Your bones ached, your body numb from his onslaught, the freezing cold, and the restrictive bonds you’d been in for hours. 

Finally, he took a moment to stop. He looked at you, at your barely conscious and recognizable state. You were beaten to a pulp, your face and body bloodied and broken. You could feel yourself wanting to give in but forced yourself to stay. For yourself, for Spencer, for the team. For that future you always talked about with him. For the house you were saving for, for the dogs and cats and animals you might one day get. For the family you might decide to have. For the idea of peace, you fought. 

George picked up the gun and pointed it at your head. A shot rang free and you braced yourself, a single tear running down your cheek as you realized you would never see your love again. Your ears rang and you felt like time had slowed. You knew the bullet would hit you. Until-

“Y/N, Y/N!” Your name was being called, the gentle yet panicked voice cutting through the ringing in your head. You tentatively opened your eyes and saw George’s body on the floor, blood oozing out of him. You slowly moved your eyes around, trying to take in your surroundings. 

Everything was overwhelming. Nothing was registering properly in your brain. It was just sounds filtering in an out, vision flickering. You felt like you were floating through the ringing in your ears. Tears ran down your cheeks as you shook. You didn’t know why you were shaking. The cold. The shock, you reasoned. Both seemed likely. It was like there was an overwhelming sense of calm. Your body was shutting down. Somehow, this gave you understanding. 

You felt the handcuffs around your wrists release and your arms dropped limply. You knew you should feel pain from your dislocated shoulder but, instead, you just let your eyes closed and felt your body fall. The last thing you remembered was coming into contact with a Kevlar vest, messy brown hair, and a familiar sense of warmth. 

When you awoke, you felt yourself being gently jostled. Your eyes slowly opened and you took in him. Spencer was looking at you, concern evident on his features.

“Hi.” You said, voice hoarse. 

“Hi, angel. Let’s get you inside, alright?”

You nodded, allowing him to help support your weight as you stepped out of the car. You leaned heavily into him, your legs badly injured. Spencer wrapped his arm snug around your waist as the two of you slowly but surely made it into your shared apartment. 

He helped you sit on the couch before moving to join you. 

“I’m surprised they let you take me home. I thought I’d wake up in a hospital, for sure.”

“They did take you there, love. You were at the hospital for a few hours but you were in and out of consciousness. You’ll heal, don’t worry. A few broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, severe bruising, sprains on your legs and ankles.”

“Plus a busted face” You add drily.

 Spencer wasn’t amused by your attempt at sarcasm. Instead, he just pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have gotten there sooner, I should have been with you! If I was there, if I was quicker-”

“Spencer, please don’t blame yourself for this! No one could have known. Besides, you saved me. And I’m not just talking about that in the literal sense. When he was beating me, when I was broken down, I thought of you.  I thought of our future, our dream. Holding onto that is the only reason I didn’t give up.”

Spencer’s eyes were filled with tears as he went to gently cup your face. He couldn’t find the words to express the love and relief he felt. “I’m just glad you’re back in my arms” 

You moved to hug him but winced. Even though the doctors had patched you up pretty well, the soreness and pain lingered and probably would continue like that for at least the next couple of days. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Let’s go to bed. I think you’ll feel better once you lay down, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You followed him into the room, holding his hand the entire time. Spencer noticed but didn’t mind, he knew you were just looking for comfort, exceedingly normal for what you’d just gone through. 

You laid down, settling against the pillows and fluffy blankets Spencer had prepared for you. 

“Do you need anything, baby?”

“Water?”

“Of course.” He smiled at you before moving to get up but you quickly grabbed his hand, panic overtaking you at the thought of being alone. You looked at him helplessly, hoping your gaze would convey the words that died on your tongue. 

Spencer nodded knowingly. He helped you out of bed, pulling you along with him as the two of you went to the kitchen. He wordlessly got you the drink, making sure to keep touching you the entire way. Finally, you made it back and the both of you crawled into bed. You laid on your uninjured shoulder, placing your cheek on Spencer’s chest. His arm came around you, holding you to him and drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

You closed your eyes and were immediately sent back to the shed. You tensed, pulling back. Spencer caught on and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re safe now, Y/N. He can’t get to you anymore.”

“I know. Rationally, I know. But my brain won’t shut off. It’s like, whenever I’m not actively thinking about something else or looking at something else or hearing something else, it just comes back. Spence, I can’t- I can’t sleep. I just, I’m sure it’ll come back to me tonight.” Your voice broke, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “I don’t think I can handle reliving it and I’m so fucking exhausted. But I can’t rest because I can’t escape the nightmares.”

Spencer wanted so badly to comfort you but didn’t know what he could do. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t take the pain away. He wished he could put the trauma onto himself but, unfortunately, he was powerless. Thus, he offered understanding. He gave validation. He gave kindness and pure, nonjudgmental love. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here for you and I know that doesn’t do much right now but I am. I’ll be here when the nightmares come and I’ll be here when the flashbacks try and drag you under. I’ll be here when the trauma starts to fade but suddenly reappears and I’ll be here 20 years from now, when the memory will still be real and painful but not all-consuming. I’ll be here forever, I’ll be here always. Please, tell me what to do to help you.” Spencer begged, hoping beyond all hope that there was something he could do to ease your suffering.

“Read to me?”

“Wha- what?”

“Read to me.” You repeated, more assured this time. “I’m thinking that if I can hear your voice, maybe it’ll drown out my brain. Or something. I don’t know. I just want to hear your voice, it’s soothing. Please?”

Spencer was taken aback. He didn’t think something so simple could help you. He didn’t know his sheer presence brought you that much serenity. “Yeah, of course. Of course! Yeah, any preference?”

“Not really. Whatever’s here?”

“Okay, love.” Spencer picked up his current read and began in the middle. You felt the rumble of his chest, the vibrations of his voice and felt more at ease. The anxiety was still there, the panic never far away. And yet, curled into him, his breath tickling your ear, his body warming yours, it suddenly felt alright. Like maybe you hadn’t gone through some life-altering trauma. Or maybe you had but your life wasn’t over because of it. Maybe you’d heal. Maybe, if you could find a moment of peace now, you’d find more later. Maybe? Yeah, You thought. You could work with maybe.

--

i just made a taglist so if you want to join, go ahead!

tags: 

@saltybreaddream

[beyond-the-birthday-massacre]

Good Night (#little-butterfly-writes contest submission)

Heyy! I wrote the most fluffy self-insert entry I could muster for the #little-butterfly-writes contest hosted by @little-butterfly-writes! I haven’t written for self-inserts for a long time and I’ve forgotten how fun it is to be self-indulgent :)) 10/10 highly recommend you to write one too! I named my MC Athena so I’ll use that name :)  

Fandom: MLQC - Gavin & Athena 

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 1473 

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

At last, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The entire company had dealt with the high workload for weeks in order to meet the strict deadlines. The heavy pressure was finally off my shoulders after wrapping up the filming and editing for the big project. 

The office became more quiet as the crew members left for the day. Currently, I was one of the last people there, Minor being the other. For the past few weeks, we had always been the last ones. I underestimated him and his work ethic. He would say the same phrase around sunset: “Hey, Athena! It’s getting pretty late. Think we should call it a day?”

Every day, I would encourage him to head out first and every day, he’d insist we both leave together. 

Minor watched me lock the front doors, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So! Any plans for tonight?” he asked.

Rattling the handle, I murmured, “Not really…” Suddenly rewatching my favourite shows didn’t seem as appealing as it did when I had been busy. The temptation of procrastination vanished when I needed it the most.

Minor glanced at his phone screen. “That’s great! I’ll see ya later, boss!” With that, he walked away.

“Huh?” I stared at his shrinking figure until he turned the corner of the block. He really zoned out, but I didn’t blame him. His expression held nothing but pride and relief that the project was finally over.

***

When I got home, I turned on my laptop. Although Minor never failed to get me out of the office, he couldn’t stop me from working here. Everything was done but revising some materials wouldn’t hurt. Plus, I should look over the reports that I needed to submit next week. 

Frankly, I wasn’t sure how much time passed when I got up to take a long shower. After drying off, I grabbed the first comfortable thing in the closet and realized it was Gavin’s white T-shirt.

Gavin had left for a mission a few weeks ago. The mission was highly classified so I decided not to bother him for the duration of the time. My workload started piling up then and I distracted myself as best as I could. Now that work was out of the way, Gavin’s gentle eyes were back in my mind. When I imagined him smiling, I couldn’t help but do so myself. If I couldn’t see him soon, at least I could meet him in my dreams.

I turned off the light and pulled the covers to my chest, staring at the balcony window as I waited to drift off. There were traces of clouds across the glowing moon and I couldn’t bear to turn away from the serene view. It felt like I was staring at it for eternity until a shadow suddenly appeared. His amber eyes shone against the moonlight and the night wind rippled at his STF jacket, sweeping his hood down.

Before I knew it, I was already opening the balcony door, letting the chilly breeze spill in. “Gavin! You’re back!”

He nodded. Despite the time of day, Gavin didn’t look tired. In fact, with his steady composure and uniform, he looked like he was ready for another day at the Special Task Force. “Mm. The mission finished just now. I wanted to see you,” he said matter-of-factly. 

No matter how long I hadn’t heard his voice, it was distinct and recognizable. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until I gave him a tight hug. It was then when I felt a sudden drop of temperature and I withdrew abruptly: “Geez, you’re freezing!”

Smiling, he tugged me close again, stroking my black hair. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. But you . . .” He furrowed his brow, noticing my loose-fitting ‘dress’. Even in the dim room, the familiar shade of red on his ears was evident. He shed his jacket and I tried to stop him, but he managed to wrap it around me.

“You need it more,” I insisted. “You’re gonna catch a cold.” 

“It’s alright. I have something better.”

His hand slipped into mine. I couldn’t help but hold it tighter in hopes of generating more warmth for him. I brought him to the bed and bundled the blanket around him.

“How long were you flying? You know it gets colder at night,” I scolded, embracing him as we laid over the pillows. He wasn’t shivering but I held him close, unwilling to let go.

He burrowed into my chest and I could feel his smile through the thin fabric. “I promise to be more careful next time.”

“You always say that! Especially about your injuries. Speaking of which, let me see them.” Before Gavin could react, I yanked the blanket away, inspecting his forearms and his torso. 

“Ahem, I’m-I’m okay, really,” he assured, his ears burning bright again when I pulled at his button up shirt. I only found old scars that had already been engraved into my memory. 

Gavin brought my restless hands to his face. His gaze towards me never wavered. “I’m telling you the truth,” he said earnestly and kissed the back of each hand. He wrapped the blanket around us, nuzzling into my chest again. 

Relief steadied my heartbeat until he looked up at me and spoke in a low tone: “Before I left for the mission, I swore I wouldn’t get injured.” He paused, pressing closer. “Do I get a reward for honouring this promise?” 

Whether he was intentionally giving me the subtle, big, ol’ puppy eyes or not, I couldn’t refuse. Brushing his soft, brown fringe back, I pecked his forehead. “There,” I said, a smile playing across my lips. “How’s that?”

He frowned and cleared his throat. “I also made sure not to skip any meals.”

I gave a peck on his cheek. 

“I kept my sleep schedule consistent too.”

“Eight hours?”

“Mm.” 

“Was it eight hours or not?”

He nuzzled deeper into the crook of my neck, hiding his expression. Gavin’s face seemed to have warmed up since his arrival. I started laughing when he playfully bit me.

“Okay, okay, I understand. Agent B-7 has a tight schedule and he works very hard. Here,” I leaned towards his mouth and he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly. His anticipation made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t resist messing with him. In the last second, I moved lower and pressed my lips to his own neck, nibbling it for good measure and for payback. 

His soft groan was barely audible before he pulled me back, pinning me down into the pillows. “I don’t think you’re being fair, Athena. Seems like you’ve forgotten about your own sleep schedule.”

I froze but I tried my best to keep my cool. “My sleep schedule is fine, thank you very much, Officer.”

Feigning doubt, he hummed. “I’m not sure. You’ve been working overtime ever since I left.” He narrowed his eyes, carefully examining mine for reaction. “If Minor hadn’t insisted any earlier, you’d be at the office until midnight every day.”

My eyes widened. “Minor?! Aw, why am I even surprised?” Now to think of it, Minor had started to work longer hours around the day of Gavin’s departure. All this time I was hoping it was because Minor had been engrossed with the Miracle Finder project, not because of a task assigned by Officer Gavin.

“It’s almost 1 am. I should’ve found you fast asleep by now. How do I know if this isn’t a bad habit of yours?” Gavin leaned in, his proximity repelled my fleeting thoughts. His blue and black uniform made him seem so much more intimidating. “So,” he murmured, “are you ready to confess?”

I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt, but his grin knocked down my wishful thinking. “Okay, okay. I lied. My schedule is terrible.”

“Mm.” Satisfied, he released his grip on my wrists. “Let me help you fix it. Is this okay?” He cradled me in his arms, snuggling close. “If not, I can count sheep with you again.”

I giggled, recalling that night with all the sheep. It felt like nothing yet everything had changed. Sighing contently, I leaned into his broad chest. His heartbeat was calm, lulling me to drowsiness. “I think it’s working,” I mumbled, “as always.”

Gavin chuckled as he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. His steady gaze was genuine and pure. “I sleep better when I’m with you too.”

My eyelids grew heavy and with the last source of energy that I could gather, I lifted my head and kissed him. His lips were soft against mine and when his parted in shock, I deepened the kiss. I could hear his heartbeat racing as I slumped against him again. 

“There. For everything you’ve done for me.”

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

Final notes: I hoped you like it! A lot of things have changed in the MLQC fandom, but I hope everyone is doing well! Reading/writing anything about comfort characters really helps me so I had fun writing this!

I also write for luciensgunsee in Instagram --- it’s mlqc x reader stuff so if you’re interested in that, do check it out! I might put the extended, uncut versions of those scenarios here in Tumblr?? If anyone is interested, please let me know :))

[rhmg-au]

The sequel to the first one, only in the Toppats’ POV.

More will come for these two stories, but beware of major angst ;)

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

TW: Killing, blood, gore, implied torture

———

Ellie was panicking.

She was extremely scared at the moment, scared that something could go wrong, scared that they could be wiped out from existence, scared that the government had already did something to Henry.

A few days ago, the leader of the Toppats orchestrated a plan to rescue the captured members. Of course, it came with risks, risks that they could be killed or taken along with them, and there’s the matter of that killer…but Henry wanted to save them, and he’ll be willing to take the fall if it meant that they were safe.

So, they went along with the plan, and it was mostly successful…mostly.

They were able to come and collect who they came for, but Henry…wasn’t so lucky.

He was captured.

Since she is his right hand lady, Ellie took the responsibility as temporary leader until they were able to bust him out, or even be permanent if…she doesn’t want to think what would happen to him now that he’s in their grasp.

If only she had gone back for him, despite his claims that he’ll be alright. God, she felt like such a failure for letting him be taken.

After what he had done for her, helping her out of the Wall, she failed to return the favour.

Her mental state wasn’t as bad as Reginald’s though…anyone would be doing better than him. Ask anyone on this space station and they’ll say the same thing as her thoughts.

What happened during the launch sequence made something inside of him snap.

And she couldn’t blame him, anyone who had to see their close friend be taken away by your enemies and you couldn’t do anything about it would be enough to shatter someone’s confidence.

She’s growing very concerned for him as the days past though…especially after Henry was captured.

She was sitting in the office, the one where the leader’s got. Stacks of papers were filling her desk, most were finished but there’s still uncompleted paperwork she has to do, and she felt like she was having a headache from them. Great power comes with great responsibility, and that quote literally defines what being the leader of the Toppat Clan is like.

She’d seen bags under Henry’s eyes from time to time, and now she’s probably going to have them too at this rate.

There was a knock on the door, causing Ellie to look away from her work. “Please come in.”

The door opened up, giving in light into the room. Sabine Setorion entered, her sky blue hair swaying despite there wasn’t any wind inside the space station, the face that contained that unhealed third-degree burn and stitched scar as well as a purple earpiece used for communications is recognizable to anyone. Another thing that made her stand out from the rest was that she had all of her limbs replaced by cybernetics, well almost all of them. The only one left is her right arm. Her spine, left arm, and legs were reconstructed with metal, similar to Right.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

Ellie shook her head, swinging her chair around to face her. “You aren’t, really. What is it you want to talk about?”

Sabine shut the door behind her, blocking the light out and leaving them in near darkness again, had there not be a lampshade on the desk, or the blinds opened to showcase the stars. “About your proposal of going down to earth and saving Henry. The executives agreed on it.”

The red haired perked up at this, the meeting ended around 3 hours ago, when she proposed the idea of raiding the government to get their leader back. Not that she just wanted to not be leader anymore, she wanted Henry back safe and sound.

“This can have terrible consequences, but bringing home our family is worth the risk.”

“But we’re also gambling the lives of the rest for the others. I do want Henry back as much as you do, him being my childhood friend and all, but I don’t feel comfortable with endangering the lives of the other Toppats.” Sabine adjusted her blue top hat with a metallic band around it, feeling like it would fall off at any given moment.

“I understand your concern, but as long as we’re well prepared and everything goes smoothly, we should be able to go through without anyone falling.” Ellie stood up from her seat and placed a hand on her shoulder, in attempt at comfort.

“Well, if you’re really sure. I’m just worried is all.” Sabine smiled a little at the gesture.

“We’re in this together, no matter what comes our way.” Ellie mirrored her smile.

“We should prepare ourselves for tomorrow then, huh?”

“Alright, alright. It’s nighttime from what the clock said, so let’s head to bed.”

———

The day arrived.

Screams were heard, bullets were fired, blood was shed.

The raid began approximately ten minutes ago, when the Toppats gathered around the government base, readying their weapons and the signal Ellie would give for them to attack.

As soon as it was, the stage was set.

“The cells are there, come on!” Ellie urged the two Toppats following her, Reginald and Earrings, to where the holding cells are located.

Obviously, Reginald was onboard with the plan, it was mostly for Right rather than Henry, it was understandable. He wanted his right hand man back after weeks of separation. Ellie was feeling the exact same, except that Henry wasn’t gone for the same time period as Right was, she’s still determined to get them both back regardless of time differences. Earrings was there because of her battle functions with her earrings, she’d be a great distraction provider should the need arise.

A few soldiers stood in their way, preparing their guns to shoot at them. Earrings was quick to react as she shined her diamond earrings at them, blinding them and causing them to drop their weapons, prompting an easy victory as they overpowered the disorientated soldiers.

“I swear if they done something to Righty…” Reginald mumbled to himself, the pistol tight in his grasp as he shot the last bullet into one of the soldier’s head.

“If they did, we’ll tear this place down. I can guarantee that, isn’t that correct El?” Earrings turned to Ellie, who finished off the last military person with a kick to the gut. 

“How could I pass up that opportunity for what they did to us? Our family?” She asked, her red hair flying against the wind that came up.

“Let’s get going, before more soldiers come.” The former leader of the clan mentioned, overlooking the chaos that came with their attack.

It was horrifying to watch, to say the least. Many Toppats and soldiers charging into the fray and either getting severely hurt, killed or apprehended, that last one only applying to the clan members. It felt painful to watch, as their family get slaughtered for the sake of everyone else in the clan, or they get captured. Either of them doesn’t sit right with them.

What they’d give to stop this endless cycle of hurt.

But they weren’t going to make senseless wishes as if they would come true. They need to take matters into their own hands, things aren’t going to resolve on their own. Miracles are just myths that aren’t true and are only told to children.

Ellie and Earrings nodded quickly, the three of them going into the cells, rushing down the halls with metal bars speeding past them as they try to find their acquaintances, while also shooting down guards on their way.

They stopped at one particular cell, sitting inside was a familiar individual.

“Henry!” Said male perked up from where he’s sitting on the bed, rushing over to the bars, a smile crossing his face at the sight of seeing the clan still well.

“Ellie? Reginald? Earrings?” He questioned, as if he thought this was a dream or his mind decided to torment him with a fake promise of getting out of this enclosed space of a cell.

By the time that sentence was spoken, the door was opened by the blonde Toppat, having picklocked it while he was talking. “It is, we’ve come to bust you out.”

“Where’s Right? Is he here somewhere? Is he hurt?” Reginald immediately asked, still not relived, he’ll only be once he finds where Right is and brings him back with him safely.

Henry looked away for a moment, a face full of guilt. That didn’t mean any good. “He’s not in the cells-”

“Then where is he?!”

“He’s…been rewired.”

“What?”

“Rewired, they turned him to their side. I tried to snap him out of it, but I wasn’t able to.”

A moment of silence initiated between the four, everyone but Henry speechless. Reginald was easily the one to be the most devastated, Right working for the enemy by force…he knew the government wasn’t kind but this was insane.

“Those…heartless bastards!” He shouted suddenly, his grip on his pistol and his fist clenched so tight it made his knuckles underneath his black gloves turn to a stark white. “I can’t believe they had the will to do this! This is torture!”

“Reg, we need to keep our heads calm, being rash isn’t going to-” Ellie knew how dangerous it was to go headfirst into trouble out of sheer rage, despite she herself doing that a lot.

“We’re going to save him, take this whole place down and get the clan back to the orbital station.” Reginald’s tone of voice changed to that of commanding, stern, full of rage. At the moment, he didn’t care about anything other than Right, the clan, and taking down the government, too blinded by anger to think clearly like he usually was.

“We need one other person before we go.” Henry’s voice spoke up, getting out of the cell with the three, a revolver tossed into his hand by Ellie. “He may work for the government, but it’s clear that he’s seen just how horrible their general is.”

“But are we really going to make it out if we save him?” Reginald questioned, getting some of his composure back, but it wasn’t enough to quell his rage.

“He genuinely tried to help, I saw it all. He’s worth saving just like him.”

Before an answer could be made, a bullet shot through the air, barely missing Earrings’ arm.

The four of them turned to the guard who fired at them, and he was about to pull the trigger again when he was stabbed from behind, by a sword it seemed. The body was discarded off from the blade, revealing a bloodied faced Sabine standing there, breathing heavily.

“You need any help?”

“Nice timing there.” Earrings muttered, a sigh of relief leaving her.

“Actually, I have a proposal. You and Earrings can go find Right while the rest of us can find whoever Henry needs to look for.” Ellie suggested, looking around to see if anymore guards are coming to arrest them.

It doesn’t seem like the worst of ideas, yet it does has it downfalls.

But if that guy is really important…and if he wants to focus on his goal of finding Right…

“Very well. Come along, Earrings.” Reginald took her arm and ran down the hallway, back to where they first got into the cells.

“Who is this person you say is important?” Sabine asked, once the two are out of sight and Ellie made sure no more guards are coming in to arrest their asses.

“He is actively trying to help Right, he now sees just how horrible the general is. We need to help him, just like how he’s helping us taking back our friend.” Henry explained, gesturing with his hand for the two to follow him.

“Wait, is he out on the battlefield?” Ellie asked, running down the hall.

Henry shook his head, his expression now showcasing guilt. “No, before you guys came, I saw that bastard hit him on the head, knocking him unconscious, and dragged him away from me.” His face contorted into rage. “He’s doing something to him, I know of it.”

“We’ll get him back, and when we do, are you going to have him join the clan?” Sabine questioned, all of them now outside of the cells as they continued to follow where Henry’s heading.

“He’ll be much better off with us than that bastard, that’s for sure.” Henry responded, already having made up his mind about it. He would more than likely accept, since the experience with such an abusive asshole had an impact on him.

They soon reached a building, it was stark white on the outside, it had glass doors, revealing a white hallway behind them. It didn’t look as bright as it could have been, since the sky was a dark grey, it didn’t quite captured the full beauty of the construction as the clear day and sunlight did.

“This is the place where he’s taken to?” Ellie questioned, shooting a soldier who tried to attack them.

“Yeah, he told me about this yesterday, a lab. I believe this is where he is.” Henry answered, pushing open the glass doors to allow them to enter.

“And if it’s not?”

“Then we keep searching until we find him.”

They ran down the white hallway, stopping at two other doors that are made of plastic, or some other material. The windows giving them a little sneak peak inside, an operating table was there, multiple types of equipment were there, and something looked like it was raising above the floor as if it was being consumed but it got stuck halfway through the ground.

Soon, they were treated to the full version. It wasn’t too different to an average lab, but the technology there and the lifted up piece in the floor was different than a regular lab.

The group looked at one another, nodding in unison. There was only one way to settle their suspicions, well more of Henry’s but you get the point.

They quickly headed down the stairs, an opened door at the end.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they saw who was in the room.

General Galeforce, Dr. V and two other people in chairs, seemingly strapped down to them, dried blood, cuts, bruises, and a torn uniform were seen.

Immediately, Henry held up his revolver, a dark glare on his face now. “Let them go, now.”

Sabine let her eyes wander to the blonde woman, hers and Dr. V’s eyes widening when they recognize who the other was.

“Sabine?”

“Mother?”

[donatello-writes]

Not Quite Human - Part IV

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Mystified by your date's bizarre actions, you wandered about your apartment, racking your brain as to where you'd gone wrong. Overthinking was your specialty, and you feared that perhaps you moved too fast, making him feel uncomfortable. Mortification painted your face as you hoped that wasn't the reason. Noticing Noodle sniffing around excitedly by the couch, you walked over to see what he was so interested in. Kneeling down for a closer look, you found a few pale green flecks dotting your carpet. They were lightly iridescent with a rough texture, almost like the skin of a snake. "...Are these...Scales?"

The sound of labored breath, laden with guilt, echoed through the otherwise silent midnight alleyways of New York city. Donatello felt like a fugitive fleeing from the scene of a crime as he darted from rooftop to rooftop, further distancing himself from you. The crisp October air burned his throat, but not as badly as the words left unsaid. He failed to have the courage to finally come clean about what he actually was: a mutant. The fear that surrounded him admitting his truth to you was paralyzing, knowing the outcome would most likely result in him never seeing you again. There was no chance that someone as perfect as you would want to be with a freakish reject like him. Beauty and the Beast is a lovely story, but things like that never happened in real life. 

Engrossed in thought, he was unprepared when his two-toed feet split through the small converse shoes, causing him to lose footing and tumble across the next rooftop. As he laid face-first on the cold and unforgiving concrete, he vowed to replace the shoes he'd destroyed, they were Mikey's after all. The human-turtle hybrid moved to get up, only to remain on the ground when a sharp pain shot down his back. He involuntarily coiled into a ball in preparation for the worst part of the change. The smooth skin on his back began to crawl before hardening as it reformed into his carapace.

Wincing, the Donatello hugged his own body for comfort. To distract himself from the pain, he focused on the sound of the sweatshirt slowly tearing apart as it surrendered to his expanding form. He felt terrible for destroying your belonging, but due to the intense stress of the moment, he was unable to remove it in time. It wasn't long before his shell triumphantly burst through the clothing, regaining it's rightful place on his back. The mutant breathed a sigh of relief, it was all over. Removing his glasses, and retrieving his mask from his pants pocket, he tied it back onto his face. Surveying his surroundings, he located a nearby manhole and quickly slipped down into it. 

Staggering through the sewer tunnels, vision doubled, Donatello struggled to even keep himself upright. Sewage splashed up onto his bare legs with each heavy step that he took. What little material that remained of his tattered jeans clung to his larger mutant form snugly, making movement difficult. This wasn't good. For the first time, he actually felt woozy following his change. Why are the after effects so adverse this time? He thought, mind swiftly consumed by worry. Thankfully, the journey wasn't long, and the lights of the lair soon illuminated his path.

The fatigued terrapin stumbled back into the lair, breathing still strained. Wobbling legs that had been threatening instability the entire jaunt home, finally gave out, and he collapsed like a newborn baby deer. Normally he would have rested before returning home, but he wasn't thinking clearly in his agitated state. Alarmed by the less than graceful entrance, his brothers rushed to his aid. Leonardo was the first at his side, followed closely by the others.

"Donnie, what happened? Where's all of your tech?" the leader in blue questioned.

"I...was attacked by foot soldiers...They ambushed me, I barely escaped...They took everything, but thankfully I awoke before they could do anything else." He lied again, something he abhorred, but had been doing a surprising amount of lately. Mikey tried his best not to react, knowing full well that his older brother's story was likely untrue.

Somehow the genius managed to convince his brethren that he was fine, and stole away to his laboratory. How was he going to explain this to you? After leaving without so much as a goodbye out the bathroom window of your high rise apartment unit. That, in and of itself, would be quite difficult to explain without telling you the truth. Worst part of all being the very moment at which he departed. The two of you were getting rather intimate, and if not for his pesky changing form, he would have stayed. The last thing he wanted you to think was that he wasn't interested in you that way. As if any of that even mattered at this point. Once you saw his true form, that flame of desire would surely die. 

Clearly his homemade ooze was unstable, it's effectiveness dwindling with each use. Time was a cruel mistress and refused Donatello any leeway. There was a limit to how many more times he'd be able to turn human, and honestly, he wasn't sure how much much more of it he could take. The formula was still incomplete. There was a key ingredient missing, and he couldn't figure out what.

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

Back at your apartment, you collected the cluster of scales discovered after Donatello's bizarre and hasty departure. Digging a microscope out of the closet and unboxing the device, you carefully set it up. Slipping the scales between slides and under the lens, you examined them. Following some tests, the scales were identified as being of the common North American box turtle. Perhaps Donatello has a pet turtle? It was just odd, as turtles usually shed similarly to snakes, in large sloughs rather than individual scales. 

As with most cases where you were in need of immediate answers, you turned to the internet. While navigating the seemingly unending information on box turtles, you happened upon a video. It was an excerpt from a nature documentary explaining their mating habits. The narrator prattled on in his proper English accent about how the males emit what was described as a churr, followed by footage of a male box turtle making an extremely familiar sound. Immediately recognizing it, you sat at your desk for a moment, completely stunned. It was almost identical to the sound you'd heard coming from Donatello. 

This new bit of intrigue encouraged further investigation. With the few supplies that you had, you assembled everything needed to conduct a rudimentary DNA test. Running into your laundry room, you retrieved his signature flannel shirt. Upon careful inspection of the garment, you managed to find a hair that you could use for analysis. You placed the hair besides the scales under the lens and had a look. Moving your eye from the microscope, you gasped. Somehow, the structural appearance of each seemed to almost match.

"But that would mean...There's no way." 

The tools required to conduct a proper test were not at your disposal, so you were quick to doubt the accuracy of the results. If your hypothesis was correct, Donatello would easily fit the description of those beings you'd heard about on the news. Considering the strides in genetic research that had occurred within the past decade, the existence of such a genetic marvel wasn't completely ludicrous. However, one fact remained: all of this was nothing but speculation until proven. This realization brought your wild theorizing to a halt.

Perhaps a goodnight's sleep would help to clear your restless mind.

Merely an hour or so after your head hit the pillow, a ruckus reverberated down the alley outside of your apartment, stirring you from fitful slumber. Understandably irked by the rude awakening, you grumbled and rolled over in your bed. The sound of a familiar voice among the others swiftly quelled your annoyance, prompting you to venture out of bed and over to the window.  

"Donnie...?" 

The name came out in the form of a whisper as you gazed skyward to the origin of the commotion. It was difficult to make out detail in the veil of night, but what you could see were four humanoid silhouettes on the rooftop of a neighboring building. The longer you stared, the more you came to realize that these figures weren't human. They had what appeared to be shells on their backs...turtles? Your eyes were drawn to one of them, specifically. The one who appeared to be decorated with various pieces of electronic equipment. 

Why do I feel like I know him somehow?

Further investigation was in order. Clumsily stepping through the window, you made your way out onto the fire escape. Still hazy from sleep, little attention was paid to your footing. One misstep was all it took to send you over the rail with a yelp. Thanks to quick reflexes, you managed to grab onto it, leaving you dangling from a dangerous height. 

Fingers losing grip with every passing second, it wasn't long before you finally began to fall. Knowing ground impact was immanent, you shut your eyes tight. But instead of hitting the hard pavement, you found yourself being whisked upward. Someone had caught you. Rough, scaly arms surrounded you, holding on tight and trembling ever so slightly. He didn't speak, but he didn't need to, his expression spoke volumes. Jaw dropped, releasing ragged breath, and eyes visibly ravaged by worry from behind his...tortoise shell glasses. This realization came too late, however, as you made the mistake of looking down. Dizziness assaulted your vision and the world swiftly went dark. 

Once he climbed your fire escape, his tension eased to see that you had fallen unconscious. That eliminated any awkward questions that he couldn't answer. His voice was too recognizable to you. It could give him away or, at the very least, cause suspicion. 

Gently, he laid you down onto the bed. Bringing the covers over you, he then lovingly tucked you in. He couldn't resist resting a hand softly on your cheek. So warm against his cold palm, a reminder of how different you were. It was easy to forget at times while waltzing around in human skin. 

Just as he turned to leave, you shifted in your bed and mumbled, "Donnie..." He shuddered at the sound of his own name. Peering over his shoulder, a sigh of relief left him to see that you were still out cold. 

It was just a coincidence, he told himself.

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

Awakening with a start, you were bewildered to find yourself in bed. "B-but...impossible." 

Throwing off the covers, you ran back to the window, gazing up to find the mysterious creatures had long since vanished. Before falling you could have sworn that you heard Donatello, but it all happened so quickly that you started to doubt yourself. With your crack theory regarding the nerdy lad all but consuming your thoughts as of late, you weren't all that surprised. 

It was just a dream...right?

The next day, he called. Despite him being the one who initiated the conversation, you were the first to begin.

“Donnie! About yesterday...If I made you feel uncomfortable at any point, I am so, so sorry.”

“No! That wasn’t it at all! I called to apologize to you.” there was a momentary pause as he collected his thoughts before continuing, “I’ve never been with another person in that way and I just got a bit...overwhelmed.”

Though you maintained that jumping out a window was not the best choice, you understood. Nerves can make a person do crazy things.“Well, if that ever happens again, can you promise me one thing?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Next time, please use the front door.” snorts and laughter came from the other end as he agreed to your terms. After a bit of talking, the two of you made plans to meet up. Excitedly stuffing all of your necessities into your backpack, you immediately headed out. 

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

"You forgot something the other night." with a broad smile you then handed over the flannel shirt, neatly folded and cleaned. The scent of lavender and vanilla laundry detergent clung to the material, filling the air with it's pleasant aroma. "It seems as though you're determined to have me keep this." 

Noticing a curious purple rag poking out of his pants pocket, you swiped it for further investigation. It looked so familiar, but you couldn't place where you'd seen it before. He jerked after feeling the item leave his pocket and turned to you. Gears were already turning in his head, preparing his answer to whatever you were about to say.

Upon further examination of the brilliantly colored cloth, you came to discover two specifically cut holes in it. Additionally, there were designs up and down both sides. One appeared to be Japanese kanji and the other...*an icon of a turtle*. That was it! The terrapin rescuer of your dreams was wearing a mask almost identical to this one. 

"Is this a...mask?" 

Without missing a beat, Donatello replied, "Yes, because I'm secretly a crime fighting superhero by night." He said, laughing a bit louder than necessary. 

"You did mention that you work at night...The pieces of the Donnie puzzle are finally coming together." with a wry smirk, you played along with his comical hypothetical. As he reached out to reclaim his possession, you swiftly tied to onto your face. 

Puckering your lips goofily, you then requested his opinion, "How do I look?" adding to the humorous display with hands on both hips and a sassy rolling of the shoulders. 

"I'm not going to lie...you look good in purple. Unfortunately, now I will have to kill you because you know my secret identity. It's such a shame too...I was really starting to like you, we had a good run." as the two of you exchanged a laugh, he wrapped his arms around you; using this as a distraction to remove the mask. "Now, are we just going to fool around or are we going on a date?"

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

Within the next few months, when Donatello wasn't working on the ooze formula, he was out with you. The more time that you spent together, the more he couldn't help but worry about telling you the truth. He was leaving a crucial fact out of the equation: that he wasn't exactly human...Well, not completely. Guilt ate away at his delicate conscience, his anxiety surrounding the matter only worsening with each passing day. The night that you shared together was a close call. It was only a matter of time before it somehow surfaced whether planned or unexpected. Not wanting circumstances to come to the latter, he resolved to tell you on his own terms. It was just a matter of finding the right time.

Going over the plans for the evening in his head, Donatello gathered everything he needed for the night. Dinner, a movie, and a walk through the park. That would allow more than enough time to return to your apartment, and for him to confess to you before the ooze's effectiveness wore off. Without the visual, his story would be hard to believe. A much as it pained him to think of you watching his gruesome shift in form, it needed to be done. 

With a heavy sigh, he headed away from the lair and deep into the sewers to take the ooze. Following his change, he donned a Queen t-shirt and squirmed uncomfortably while fitting his suspenders over his shoulders. It felt strange wearing his usual cargo pants. Not only were they ill-fitting on his smaller human body, but they also served to mark the end. The end of being human, the end of being normal, the end of being...with you. 

The final touch: his purple flannel over shirt. It would undoubtedly be torn apart when he reverted back, and he couldn't think of a better way to get rid of it. He couldn't keep the article of clothing after all that it came to stand for. The outfit was far from fashionable, but at that point in time, he was in need of functionality. He didn't bother to remove his goggles, there was no point, she'd already seen them. Bedsides, it'd be far better to be prepared in case anything happened.

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

"Nice suspenders, you're really playing up the hot nerd look, huh?" You joked.

Making a point to adjust his glasses he replied, "You know you like it." 

Shooting him a smirk, you grabbed hold of his suspenders and pulled him into a kiss. "Oh, I definitely do...And I surrender, the nerdy allure is too much for me to handle! Have mercy!" You both chuckled as you made your way to the restaurant.

Hopping seamlessly from dinner to movie, the date was just as normal as any other. However, once you left the theater and headed off to your next destination, Donatello leaned in and whispered, "I don't mean to alarm you, but...It appears that we have chaperones accompanying our date. They're undoubtedly looking for revenge after what I did to them before." He concluded, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He still didn't know that they were after you, specifically. 

After a series of twists, turns, and misdirections that would make even the Scooby Doo gang dizzy, it seemed you had thrown the ruffians off your trail. The detour had taken a decent chunk of time, and by now it was already dark. Given how far you both were from her apartment, he was forced to find a secluded place where there'd be no threat of him being seen as he transformed. 

A rooftop. 

Taking your hand in his, he led you up a nearby fire escape. You didn't question it, figuring this was still part of your evading the current threat. Once the two of you reached the top, stared up at the sky wistfully before turning to you. Gazing deep into your eyes, he wasn't sure where to begin. After everything that had transpired that night, his time frame was limited. Within the hour, the effects of the ooze would cease and his true appearance revealed. 

Noticing his unease, you wrapped your arms around him. The tips of your fingers traced up and down the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. You followed with a delicate touch of the lips. He savored every kiss that you granted him, knowing this would all come to an end once you knew what he really was...a monster...those words still echoed in Donatello's head from that terrible night at the Police station. His analytical brain made sense of the situation, he'd rationalized long ago that what those police had said came from a place of ignorance; however, knowing that fact didn't make their words hurt any less.

"Y/N...I...I haven't been myself lately." He began, words slow and heavy.

Puffing a chuckle, you replied, "It's okay, it happens to the best of us."

"No. You don't understand, I-I'm not hu--"

Angry shouts cut Donatello off from his confession. The Purple Dragons who had been following the two of you earlier had managed to locate you once more. Effortlessly scooping you up into his arms, your beau made a mad dash for the fire escape. While descending the stairs, your phone wriggled free from your pocket and plummeted down to the concrete below. You let out an involuntary shriek as it did so. 

"S-sorry, I'll get you a new one!" He promised as you finally reached the bottom. Without hesitation, he then bolted down the alleyway with impressive speed. You looked back to see a few new thugs had joined the chase and were not far behind. The change was upon him, and in a panic, he hastened his pace. He was paying little attention to navigation, but thankfully you were. Recognizing the area, you shouted at Donatello to stop. Unfortunately, the warning came too late, he'd already turned to face a dead end. 

Pain finally gripped him and he froze, allowing the pursuers to catch up. Nestled in his arms, you could feel his muscles twitching incessantly, begging to regain their proper form. Surveying his surroundings, there were no fire escapes, no windows, nothing to grab onto to make a getaway. The only thing in this alley was a faulty streetlight that flickered weakly, offering an eerie lighting to the already tense situation. 

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

Your piercing screech echoed down the streets, making it's way to the ears of a certain leader in blue. Out with only two of his brothers, he couldn't ignore such an apparent cry of distress. Following the sound, they came to find only the Purple Dragons all converging on one point. Clearly they were up to nothing good, so they silently followed from the rooftops. Eventually coming upon the objects of the chase: a young, unassuming couple. 

Raphael tilted his head, perplexed, as he concentrated his gaze on the stranger below, "Hey, doesn't that guy look kinda familiah?" He inquired, nudging his little brother. 

"Nope, nope...Haven't seen that dude before in my life." Michelangelo straightened up, trying his best not to seem suspicious. Knowing it was Donatello, and concerned for his safety, the orange masked turtle added, "Should we go down there and help them?" He then looked to his older brethren for guidance. Both of them traded glances before surveying the scene below one more time. The heroic young man was poised to fight off his attackers, and he didn't appear to be a stranger to combat, judging from his solid fighting stance, and the fierce expression on his face.

Leonardo shook his head decisively, "No, if it's not absolutely necessary for us to intervene, we won't. We are not going to risk being seen over a small skirmish." the leader had spoken, and he directed his younger team members to follow him away from the stand-off. Not but a second later, the human man prepared to dish our the much deserved beating that his assailants were begging for. 

This was a dead end in every sense of the phrase. Standing between you and the enemy, Donatello held his place firmly. He would do anything it took to ensure your safety. As if some otherworldly force were at work in his favor, just as the miscreants prepared for attack, the streetlight cut out. Scant beams of moonlight streamed in from between the lofty buildings and offered little light to the scene. Low gasps and groans of displeasure came from the Purple Dragons, but not him. He was completely at home in the shadows.

Drawing in a deep breath, Donatello began fighting off the group, and defend you. They all rushed at him, despite their limited vision, and the game was set. Maneuvering through the group with calculated grace, he easily evaded the flurry of fists and weapons. His strikes were deliberate, without a hint of hesitation. There was no time for flourishes like the last fight, this time he was all business. Admittedly, he was putting on a bit of a show to impress you the last time he faced off against these thugs.

Leonardo motioned for his brothers to follow him away from the scene, and the both nodded. Turning back to catch one last glimpse of the show, Raphael's eyes widened. He recognized those fighting movements instantly, they were exactly the same as what he and his brothers learned from Master Splinter. "Guys. Check out this nerd's moves."  

Well aware that his shift in form was upon him, Donatello was forced to ignore it, and focus on the fight. Scales began to replace skin, and the sound of tearing fabric rang out into the quieted night. His darkened form appeared to be growing, but that couldn't be possible. A single flash from the streetlight gave you a glimpse of your heroic beau, half-turned. It was only for a split second, but enough. 

The two oldest brothers watched in disbelief as this gangly human man slowly took the familiar shape of their brother, far too stunned by what their eyes were beholding to take action. Michelangelo shifted uncomfortably, being privy to the secret, trying to pretend like he was equally as surprised. The leader was speechless, not entirely sure of what he had just witnessed. While beside him, the red brute showed the most visible reaction. A myriad of emotions swept over the red masked turtle's face--shock, fear, and disgust, before finally settling on his usual: anger.

As the transformation persisted, so did Donatello's attackers. He wanted to double over, but couldn't let up his defense for a second. All that he could do was grit his teeth, and tolerate the pain as he continued fending off the assault. There were far too many enemies for him to be concerned with his change at this point in time. Meanwhile, his practically blind assailants were oblivious to his shifting form. 

It wasn't until he took down the last of his opponents, and reached for your hand, that he finally came crashing back down to reality from his adrenaline high. His three-pronged, green, scaly hand was outstretched before him, mere inches away from yours. At which point, the streetlight finally decided to remain on, shining brightly down on the newly turned mutant like a spotlight. The otherworldly force was not so benevolent after all.

The orange and red masked brothers were prepared to jump down and interrupt, but Leonardo quickly stopped them. "No...we're not needed here." He stated, knowing this was time that you and Donatello needed alone. The wise leader was able to read the situation effortlessly. Putting the disappointment that he was feeling on the back burner, he chose empathy. Knowing that his sibling was already stressed, he didn't want to compound that by getting involved at this moment. 

"Whut??? Didja not see our brother just--" the burly terrapin readied his argument, but was swiftly silenced by the head of the team. "Enough, we're not interfering. We can discuss this with Donnie later, but right now...They need to be alone."

Coming to the realization that you had just witnessed him transform for the first time, Donatello's eyes grew wide with horror and he quickly withdrew his hand. He wished this had happened under better circumstances, but these were the cards that he was dealt. Dread flashed over his features as you stared back at him, transfixed. The expression on your face appeared almost identical to the one in his nightmare. Anxiety at it's peak, he backed away like a frightened animal and absconded without saying a word. There was nothing to be said, his monstrous form spoke for itself, telling the story of his deceit. 

The mutant's departure was so swift that he didn't hear your plea for him to stay. By the time you'd found words, he had already disappeared into the night. You stood there, surrounded by fallen enemies, and the many tattered pieces of his flannel shirt that laid strewn about the alley. Kneeling down, one by one you carefully collected the pieces of material. After retrieving every last shred, you stepped over the unconscious men and slowly made your way home in a daze.

Once he had returned to the lair, Donatello shut himself away in his room, head reeling from what had just occurred. The look of fear on your face replayed endlessly in his head as if it were a video on loop. He didn't expect you to accept him like this, he was an abomination of both nature and science. He only wanted for you to be able to lead a normal life, and he was unable to give you that. Knowing this fact made his heart ache.

Surely you wouldn't want to see him again, he concluded pessimistically. Not after watching someone you thought was human horrifically transform into a monster before your very eyes. Someone you trusted...and maybe even...loved? He quickly erased that possibility from his mind, you'd never return your affection for him like this...as a mutant. You loved the human Donatello, and that was the reality of the situation.

You returned to your apartment, utterly dumbfounded by the recent events. From your brief infiltration of Dr. Stockman's laboratory, you knew that he made unbelievable breakthroughs in genetic engineering. Though you were not privy to the specifics of his work, rumors flew within the scientific community that he'd found a way to modify human and animal DNA with his miraculous purple serum. You didn't believe these insane claims, it was something like that seemed unachievable. Despite the fact that you'd been hired to purloin said formula, you still weren't convinced of it's effectiveness. Was Donatello really a human-animal hybrid? Even though you'd witnessed him change into his half-animal form right in front of you, if was still difficult to swallow. 

"He's...incredible."

...to be continued.

Tagged a few folks who asked to be: 

@ali-on-reverie​ @fullvoidmoon @notaliteraltoad​ 

[biscuitfam]

Past, Present, and Future

Summary: Being married to the Doctor has many perks as well the downfalls and the confusing paradoxical moments. Hurt though, emotional hurt, wasn’t something that came often. However there you all were. All four of you. A past, present, and future.

WC: 1880k

Pairing: 10th doctor x reader, 11th doctor x reader, River

Warnings/Tags: ANGST, mentions of cheating(?) maybe, not really.

A/N:  So I might make this into a multi chapter fic, but I’m not sure. Also! I’ve decided I’m going to make a subpages for my Supernarual fics as this is primarily turning into a DW blog Also! I came up with this fic from a dream I had 😂

Part two possibly?

Also, if you enjoy my content consider buying me a ko-fi to support this broke college student  >  Here!

“ I don’t want to go-“ A brilliant explosion of light filled the room breaking items in its wake. The TARDIS crying in pain as she lost control and begun falling through the sky. Crying in pain alongside the Doctor who clutched his head in agony.

Then, he changed. The Doctor had changed. Every bit of him totally different. New face. New voice. New attitudes. Your future husband, then secret boyfriend, glanced up to you as he sat on his knees and hair flattened to his head. Eyes full of sorrow and longing. Regret. He changed on you, however, you knew it was coming. You didn’t expect it to be so soon.

He changed into the man you had grown to love, although pain stuck within you as you had to grow to trust him again. The man you would marry. However, currently he sat as the man you had fallen for so helplessly yet he knew nothing of this as the relationship had to be secretive.

—

It had been twelve years after crash landing in the back of Amelia Pond’s garden resulting in the demise of the shed. Little Amelia had grown into the feisty redhead who, currently harassing Rory and fondling his hair, begun to travel with you and your now husband. The road to this hadn’t been easy. Being married to the Doctor had many perks as well the downfalls and the confusing paradoxical moments. The icon trio always managed some sort of trouble that would result you, the so called ‘motherly figure’ to swoop in and save their asses.

Amy and Rory had destroyed your concept of a complete linear timeline, well, a somewhat straight timeline that is. Time was never linear. Never occurring in the exact spots and always changing to accommodate changes. Although, when Mel turned into River a wave of hurt blew through you in remembrance of th library and what could come in future’s time.

Another woman would come and shake things up with your own timeline with the Doctor in ways you would never expect. Nothing hurt you more than the night you found out he would marry River in the future, and they indeed loved each other. You may or may not have snooped in her diary some..and hell did it hurt. You found out about all the secrets, all the lies, the future they had together; and the moments that the Doctor hid from you. However, the reality did not strike fully until the notes started coming true in front of your eyes. Curiosity has certainly killed the cat.

One thing that rung clear through all her tear stained letters is that she was perusing him, not the other ways around. While it did put some hope into you, it still hurt knowing he was feeding into it and you, his wife, had to watch the play act itself out as his future would be to marry another. Even if it was ‘beneficial’ and ‘save the integrity of human life as it is’ it was a cheap shot to the self esteem. Her written words burned your eyes and heart. You had written down the bolder dates within her book to keep a record for yourself and today was the Pandorica and also the day the Doctor reboot the universe for a Big Bang Two.

Then it happened. Everything went white as the Doctor’s screams sounded. The pure agony within his screams. The unfiltered, raw screams that tore your heart completely in two and made you forget all about the hurt you were feeling that he knew nothing of. Knowing his own future would make him go out of his way to purposely change it and quite possibly muck things up in the process. Although, he did have such a soft spot for the curly haired, curvy woman already. The white light got brighter and brighter before you felt like you were being completely obliterated.

Your own screams were the last thing you heard before blackness and slumber overtook you.

—

You woke to the feel of cold metal on your skin and puffs of steam hitting the back of your legs, thus resulting in rather uncomfortable wet denim patches rubbing against your skin. A large shadow stood hovering over you quite yet calculating as you raised yourself in to proper elbows trying to focus your eyes. That was until they locked onto a pair of cream converse standing right ahead of you. Those shoes, sand shoes, were the most recognizable clothing item in space and time - well, in your opinion anyway. The Doctor would beg to differ. Part of you wanted to close your eyes and beg for this to be a dream, while another wished to never go back. This was before all the pain and future knowledge.

“ What?” He asked as you stood, eyes blown wide open now at the realization it was you, “ What? What? I don’t quite understand...what?” He pulled away slightly and threaded a hand through his hair, “ You’re not wearing a vortex manipulator, I know for a fact I have implanted that cheap time travel is dangerous. I just dropped you off at home and you managed to pop back in? Was this Jack?” The man rambled on in confusion, meanwhile you sat in the captain’s chair amused yet annoyed at the daft alien.

“ Okay, long story short for you. First, I’m from your future and your future self reset time itself thus some cosmic mistake to cause me to be thrown into my past and disrupt my timeline.” This caused the man to raise a brow before you raised a long finger, however, his eyes caught a glance at the shiny ring placed upon it. You slowly covered your hands with your sleeves and gave him a slight smirk, “ No you can’t know.”

“ Is he at least good to you, your husband?” This question caused pain in your heart, especially at the saddened look in his eyes. You remembered this. He had dropped you off at home after a rather heated argument about what the two of you were -- things were said and feeling were hurt.

--

“ Y/N, please come back!” The Doctor’s words echoed within your ears as you went towards the doors with backpack already in tow. You wanted more than stolen kisses and in secret sweet nothings, you wanted more than him having doge around Rose to protect her feelings that she had towards him.

“ It’s either me or her, Doctor. I don’t want to do this to you - I really, truly don’t. But I can’t sit here and watch this. It just gets hard, always being someone’s second choice. I’ll be back, I just need to..calm down.”

--

“ Yes he is,” You smiled and looked up to the man and waved your head to dismiss his quizzing look, “ No details. You’ve taught me well enough.” You stood and circled around the console nervously with sweaty hands rubbing together. 

“ We do need to get me back to the right timeline though, if I remember right I’ll be back by morning-” You glanced to the computer screen and grimaced,“ Eight hours.”

The Doctor grabbed your had and gave it a soft squeeze his, a very comforting squeeze that caused tears to well in your eyes. He shook his head and made you stop in your wake, “ Whatever you tell me now must have been a part of my future self’s memories, correct? Y/N, tell me..what did your husband do? Why are you crying? And where am I?”

The Doctor sat with his head buried in his hands after the somewhat in depth explanation utterly baffled. How could he be so..dumb? Act so human? He went through the information once more through his head attempting to find somewhere to fix this. He still with you in his future, but he has another woman he’s destined to marry; You left out the bit that you had stolen from her journal. You knew future events before they even had, they being himself.

“ Right! Here’s what we’re going to do-” The man jumped to his feet and begun to fiddle with the switches and type in the year you were supposedly supposed to be in your time. 

-

Present time: 1:40pm, Location, The Tarids. After the reboot things quickly got back on track and to the best field of normalcy as it could for the Ponds, however, the Doctor had hauled himself underneath the TARDIS floors in his swing. She never really needed a fixing, however, the old gal took the tinkering with the occasional groan in means to let the Doctor self sooth. 

After the reboot everything had fallen back into it’s place once again with the Doctor traveling with Amy and Rory. River also being on board currently..but you were missing. It had been a few months since the reboot occurred, and he hardly slept or ate. He had become withdrawn in an attempt of searching for you that he had become blind sided about River’s intentions. She kept pushing herself in between the two of you.

“ She’s kot here anymore, sweetie. We’ve tried. Let me help you-“ Her words swirled in his head and caused him to grit his teeth. How could she be so cunning? So cruel? He never thought she could act in such a way. Surely she was flirty, but that was her nature and attitudes. The man dropped this tools to the grated floor, groaned, and placed a greasy hand over his eyes.

How could he have been so blind to you? He had noticed the signs, noticed your uncomfortable nature around the woman before the reboot occurred. He had passed it off as stress. A loud siren started blaring throughout the console room and the lights flashed red as the console was becoming compromised.

“ No, No, No! What now? What could be so bloody important to need me?” The man slipped from the swing and marched up the stairway, sliding past a River who bound down from her bedroom to see what had occurred.

“ What’s going on, Doctor? I tried to stop the signals from whatever is pulling us-“ He cut her short as he attempted to wriggle past her and get to the screens, not saying a word.

Even the emergency systems set in place were compromised. Whatever or whoever had full control over the TARDIS he couldn’t figure out.

“ There is nothing we can do, River. If I attempt to reroute is we would get thrown off course and quite possibly cause a rift-“ He gestured with his hands by holding them closed then slowly opening them, “ A rift would either swallow us all into a pocket universe or cause more timeline issues..however, it’s hard to tell. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen either way.”

The man stopped in his tracks and looked towards her with a pale face, “ The only way this may be possible is if I crossed my own timeline. I would never—“ He stopped point blank and let out a small laugh that soon escalated into a rather sad, hysterical one.

“ I remember this. This is the day I get Y/N back.”

[megashadowdragon]

Fuel for Cersei's Paranoia in The Winds of Winter

Cersei's Concerns After her Trial

After Cersei's trial is complete, assuming it doesn't end with her execution, she will be trying to catch up on everything that went down in Westeros while she was out of commission. When TWOW opens, she'll have a plethora of sources of information at her disposal to feed her paranoia and to lead her to make more of her trademark foolish, impulsive decisions.

There are a number of issues Cersei will be interested in gathering information about, but in this post I’ll be focusing on Jaime’s disappearance.

Cersei lifted her chin, her green eyes shining in the candlelight. “Jaime? Have you had word?”

“None. Cersei, you may need to prepare yourself for - ”

“If he were dead, I would know it. We came into this world together, uncle. He would not go without me.”

ADWD Epilogue

Red Ronnet Connington

We last heard about Red Ronnet in Kevan's epilogue. He was confined to his chambers within the Red Keep until his loyalty to Tommen could be ascertained. Cersei has a number of reasons to be interested in speaking with Ronnet. He’s related to Jon Connington, and since Cersei will have to do some maneuvering to get back on the small council, she might see him as her best bet to gather information about Aegon VI’s invasion. Cersei would also know that out of everyone currently in Kingslanding, Red Ronnet had the most recent contact with Jaime before he vanished.

Unfortunately for Cersei, Ronnet Connington will have no information to give her on his father’s cousin and (f)Aegon. However, he might have some interesting things to say about Jaime. When we were last inside her head, Cersei was unwilling to believe that Jaime would truly have abandoned her to the Faith and followed Brienne.

Her. The queen remembered the Maid of Tarth, a huge, ugly, shambling thing who dressed in man's mail. Jaime would never abandon me for such a creature. My raven never reached him, elsewise he would have come.

ADWD Cersei I

Connington may start to put a few cracks in this conviction. Especially if he shares how his last interaction with Jaime went.

"The bear was less hairy than that freak, I'll—"

Jaime's golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps. His lantern fell and smashed, and the oil spread out, burning. "You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne."

AFFC Jaime III

It’s also interesting that Connington is familiar with one of Brienne’s mocking nicknames.

Connington edged away from the spreading flames on his hands and knees. "Brienne. If it please my lord." He spat a glob of blood at Jaime's foot. "Brienne the Beauty."

AFFC Jaime III

Regardless of whether you believe Brienne is the YMB or not, or whether Cersei would be willing to believe it, hearing someone refer to the younger woman Jaime disappeared with as “Brienne the Beauty” might be a bit jarring for Cersei.

Randyll Tarly

Randyll has returned to Kingslanding from Maidenpool with his army at Mace Tyrell's request. He stands high in Mace's councils, so there's a good chance he'll encounter Cersei while she still has to work around the Tyrells.

Randyll ran into Brienne of Tarth in AFFC. She told him she was looking for Sansa Stark and produced a warrant signed by Tommen stating she was about the King's business. Randyll also knows Brienne was carrying Oathkeeper, and could easily give a recognizable description. It's not every day you see a Valyrian steel sword with a ruby-encrusted lion pommel and red-and-black ripples worked into the blade. There’s only one other like it, Widow’s Wail, the sword that was given to Joffrey.

Should Cersei talk to Randyll, she might draw a connection between Jaime's disappearance and Sansa Stark. After all, the woman Jaime disappeared with was on the lookout for the girl, in possession of items that only Jaime could have given to her. If she finds out about the writ from Tommen, it might make her angrier than it made Lady Stoneheart, and she might start to reconsider training Tommen to sign everything put before him.

Another interesting thing to note about Randyll is that he has a low opinion of Brienne.

As for you, my lady, it is said that your father is a good man. If so, I pity him. Some men are blessed with sons, some with daughters. No man deserves to be cursed with such as you. Live or die, Lady Brienne, do not return to Maidenpool whilst I rule here."

Brienne V

No doubt Brienne, a woman who takes on a more traditionally masculine role, reminds him of Sam, whom he felt was too feminine to be a proper son. Any conversation Randyll has about Brienne will undoubtedly convey this disdain, and he’d likely be willing to share the worst of what people believe of her.

Qyburn

Cersei trusted Qyburn above all her other counselors in AFFC. Considering he was the only one who stayed loyal to her during her imprisonment with the Faith, she’ll likely double down on her reliance on him in TWOW. Qyburn is Cersei’s Master of Whisperers, so he’s likely to pass on any rumors about Jaime that spread in the wake of his disappearance. And although they’ve never had much conversation about it, Cersei knows Qyburn spent time with Jaime and Brienne at Harrenhal.

We know tales of Jaime and Brienne’s earlier travels through the Riverlands have started to spread and become embellished.

"I wished to see where the bear danced with the maiden not-so-fair." His beard shone in the light as if it were afire. Jaime could smell wine on his breath. "Is it true the wench fought naked?"

"Naked? No." He wondered how that wrinkle had been added to the story.

AFFC Jaime III

The same game of telephone could affect tales of whatever befalls Jaime and Brienne after Pennytree. The nobles are essentially the celebrities of the common folk. The fact that a highborn maid vanished with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard will likely get some tongues wagging. And, there has been lewd speculation about Jaime and Brienne in the Riverlands before.

In the corner by the window Lem and Harwin sat talking to red-haired Tansy in low voices.

". . . spent the night in Jaime's cell," she heard the woman say. "Her and this other wench, the one who slew Renly. All three o' them together, and come the morn Lady Catelyn cut him loose for love." She gave a throaty chuckle.

ASOS Arya V

Hearing tales of her brother and another woman, not only from Qyburn, but also gossiped about around Court, would doubtless drive Cersei up a wall. And Qyburn could confirm that at least some of the rumors are true. While the events of Jaime’s “roadtrip” with Brienne haven’t interested Cersei in the past, there is reason that they might do so now. Qyburn was a witness to almost everything that went on at Harrenhal, from the bath to the bearpit. I don’t imagine hearing Qyburn confirm that Jaime was willing to jump in front of a bear to save Brienne would reassure Cersei that “Jaime would never abandon her for such a creature.”

So, what will this lead Cersei to do . . .

Considering her “Tyrion is in the walls” level of paranoia, I'm curious to see what kind of conspiracy theories she'll cook up.

First and foremost, hearing all of this, she’ll stop trusting Jaime. Cersei will likely turn vengeful, and seek to cause him or Brienne harm if they resurface and she can reach them. Depending on her state of mind, she may start to believe Jaime is the Valonqar, or Brienne is the YMB. And if Cersei tries to harm Brienne, Jaime could very well valonqar her.

While they’re out of her reach though, there are still some actions Cersei might take.

Cersei established a precedent that Kingsguard can be removed from service when she dismissed Barristan on the grounds of old age. In a rage, she might have Jaime removed from his position for being a traitor or abandoning his post. In classic Cersei fashion, this may prove to be a mistake in the long-term. The Tyrells may push to stuff the Kingsguard with more of their own men, and perhaps promote Loras to the role of Lord Commander (giving them another small council seat).

Other ramifications of removing Jaime from the Kingsguard are more in line with the hypothetical that Brienne is the YMB. Jaime would no longer be bound to the Kingsguard’s oaths. He could marry, and press a claim for his lordship. If he were to marry Brienne, and she were to become the Lady of Casterly Rock, Brienne would be taking Cersei’s last refuge of power, taking what she holds dear.

One last musing - The potential for Randyll to drag Sansa’s name into the mix is interesting. Cersei still hates Sansa, but recently her ire has been focused on Margaery Tyrell. Should Cersei regain power in KL for some length of time, and learn that Sansa is somehow connected to Jaime’s disappearance, she may dedicate more resources to hunt Sansa down.

TLDR; GRRM has surrounded Cersei with characters that can shed some light on Jaime’s disappearance, and the information they give her could lead to some of her characteristic short-sighted moves.

source : www . reddit  . com/r/asoiaf/comments/jl67fv/spoilers_extended_fuel_for_cerseis_paranoia_in/

[inkedsoldier]

AMOR VINCIT OMNIA - Chapter Six

A/N: Here it is – chapter six of the AMOR VINCIT OMNIA series! I hope you enjoy & please let me know what you think about the series so far! Thanks for all the support!

Y/N = Your name.

Y/F/N = Your first name.

Y/L/N = Your last name.

Characters: Sam Drake, Nathan Drake, Victor Sullivan, Y/N.

Warnings: fluff.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Six The Italian Job 

You had checked in online before you left for the airport. Sam was tensed and almost smoked half a package of cigarettes before you finally boarded. The airplane almost felt like home; you had spent time in them so often during your adventures around the world. You could curl up and easily doze off with your headphones on, listening to eighties and nineties tunes. You were seated next to the window, Nate in the middle and Sam at the aisle. 

Mid-flight the cabin crew handed out the included meals. The meal stared at you and you stared back at it. You glanced over the description of the meal, which had no resemblance to the sad mash in front of you. If you could describe the meal as starvation ration it would imply that it was in some way edible, but is was more a mix between styrofoam and leather covered by some kind of jello substance. Luckily, you picked up some snacks at one of the airport shops. Without looking you grab something out of your backpack placed between your feet. “Thank god for airport shops,” you mumble as you take out the first thing within reach. “You guys want something edible?” Nathan tipped back his head and roared with laughter. He knew you would raid the airport shop for at least one bag of sour worms. Sam looked at you with surprise and smiled. “Yes, please,” they said in unison while putting the lid back on the plates.

About two hours had passed. You were studying some of the floor plans of the Rossi Estate and planning multiple escape routes if the whole operation would turn to shit. Nathan and Sam were talking, but you couldn’t hear them with your headphones on. You had to focus on the plans, and thinking was easier with The Police on max volume. “So, did you talk to her?” Nate asked his brother. “Uhm, sort of… not really. I don’t know what to say, Nathan. It has been fifteen god damn years - fifteen years of preparing what to say to her as we meet again. But now… I don’t know what to do… how to behave? Yes, we kissed on the docks, but does she still love me? I have no clue.” Nathan puts his hand softly on the shoulder of his brother as a token of sympathy. What was he going to tell him? He knew how much you loved Sam, even after all these years. “Believe me when I tell you this, Sam. She loves you. She never stopped loving you. All these years she tried to pick up her life again, but no amount of time could erase you from her memories.” After what Nate told him, he couldn’t stop staring at you. All the emotions that made him human, the emotions that he had shut out during his times in prison, came back at him like a hurricane. Before he knew, the pilot announces that you are ten minutes from your first destination: London. As he straightens himself in his seat, you put away your laptop and headphones.

It was just a short layover in the United Kingdom; long enough to have some decent drinks and a sandwich. You arrived around half past eleven in the morning in Rome. Nate called Sully to inform him about your arrival and to receive instructions on where to go. Victor Sullivan had contacts everywhere and arranged the accommodation you would be staying at the next few days. He would arrive on Friday morning, the day of the auction, because he was working on some kind of business deal somewhere else in Europe. It took you one hour to drive to the hotel, which was situated only twenty minutes from the Rossi Estate. The hotel lobby was classy, tiled with fine marble and a huge chandelier made the rays of sunshine dance across the wall and ceiling. The incoming breeze surrounded you with a salty fragrance during your wait for the receptionist to return to the front desk.

“Miss Y/L/N, these are the keys to the rooms. If you need anything, just call to the front desk and we will see what we can do for you,” the young woman told you when she returned. As she lay the keys in your palm you give her a polite smile and turn around to walk towards Sam and Nathan. “Third floor, room 16 and 18. If you don’t mind, I would like the room with the sea view,” you say as you pick up your bags. “No problem. Sam and I already talked about sharing the room,” Nate answered as he taps a daydreaming Sam on his shoulder. “Huh, what? Sorry… I can’t believe I’m out. Here… with you… in Italy,” Sam tells as he walks to the elevator.

Night fell. The blue haze of the day lifted to reveal the stars that illuminated the darkness. You smile when the wind blows into your hair and all your fears crumble beneath your feet. As you stand up to walk inside to get a bottle of water there is a knock on the door. You glance over to the time and notice that you’ve been sitting on the balcony for almost two hours. The door creaks softly as you open the door revealing Sam. “Hey, you hungry?” he asks as he lifts up the plastic bag in his hands. “Is that pizza I smell?” you say as you let him in. “Yeah, Nate called the reception to order some food from the place down the street. Uh, do you mind eating together?” You sit down on the bed and pull Sam next to you. “No, of course not. You want to watch some television while we eat, or do you want to listen to the radio?” – “Radio is fine,” Sam answered as he handed you some napkins. “So… What have you been up to the last fifteen years?” The question came as a surprise, not entirely, but you didn’t expect to have the time to talk with Sam with everything going on. The last day you had been planning the heist non-stop. All you wanted to do was save Sam’s life from Alcazar. “God, I don’t know where to start? Nathan must have told you a lot already.” Sam laughed, “Well, yes. I still can’t believe you two found El Dorado and had to fight the living dead. But I want to hear about you? I missed you. Every day, for fifteen years, I missed you next to me.”

The conversation was so much more than just words. It was the smiles, the gentle touches and the light in your eyes. You needed this. You listen to each other as if the words are the elixir you’ve been waiting for all these years. When he looks at you it was as if every ounce of breath was taken from your lungs - you fell in love all over again. The cold onshore breeze blew right through the curtains giving you chills. Sam noticed and wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you close, gently rubbing your arm. You sunk into the his side, his touch making the space around you warmer. As your consciousness ebbed, your mind swirled into a beautiful dream. Sam’s lips curl into a smile. He covers you both with the soft sheets before turning off the lights.

You awake to soft sheets and the morning light trickling through the curtains. Shedding yourself of the remaining glimpses of a dream, you soak in the warmth of the body next to you. He is still here. “Good morning, beautiful.” Waking up to that raspy voice was like a dream coming true. Slowly you open your eyes to be met by his hazel ones. “Buongiorno, handsome” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him. You nuzzle into his neck, leaving featherlight kisses. He hummed contently in response, letting his hands travel up and down your side, his fingers dancing along your bare skin under your shirt. You smiled to yourself. “I think it’s time to start our preparations, mister. Nate is probably already waiting for us as it is already…” you look on your phone to check the time “… half past ten in the morning.” As you try to sit up Sam pulls you back for a fiery and passionate kiss. As you kiss you roll him over to get on top of his strong body. You land a last loving kiss on his lips as you drag your feet off the bed, “I told you… it’s time to get up.”

Just as you thought, Nathan was already waiting for you. He had been buzzing all night; he made a checklist, checked the equipment and cleaned the guns. All you had to do now was prepare the masterplan and steal the cross.

The next day “Nate, I’m heading to Sully’s. Don’t forget to keep your tux clean! Both of you,” you say as you walk to the door of the hotel room. “I’ll be seeing you in six hours. Call me if you need anything.” You close the door behind you and walk towards the elevator. Together with Sully you would enter the auction to avoid any suspicion. A taxi was waiting for you at the entrance of the hotel. It took you ten minutes to arrive at Sully’s place and he was already waiting for you at the gate. “Hey, darling, long time no see!” Around his eyes were laughter lines and he hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him. Before he knew it, you hugged him tightly. “It’s been way too long, Sullivan” you state.

You went through the whole plan with Sully before you went upstairs to prepare yourself for the auction. You even talked about Sam for a bit. He asked if you had told him about the miscarriage and you told him that you needed some time before bringing up that topic. Right now you had to focus on saving his life from a maniac. Victor Sullivan had contacts everywhere, so you weren’t surprised when he told you that he had managed to find the most perfect dress for the evening. After you finished your hair and makeup, it was time to make your way to the Rossi Estate; time to take someone’s breath away.

Tag list: @kiara-arts​ @wintermuteway​

[kagehinataboke]

only time will tell - chapter 4

“You’re fucking late. Again.” As usual, Katsuki is waiting in the classroom when Todoroki arrives, fifteen minutes late and in a cold sweat. Katsuki is wearing a basketball jersey—he’s on the school team, apparently—red track pants, and sneakers. His ever-present scowl seems especially sour today.

Todoroki takes off his backpack and clips his sunglasses to the collar of his shirt. “Sorry. I had to run here from a shoot.” He turns to the remedial students scattered around the room, plastering on a smile. “Did everyone wait long?”

All the girls immediately shake their heads, and even some of the boys, albeit reluctantly. Todoroki flashes Katsuki a smug look, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. Over the past week, Todoroki has been late to nearly every remedial session—and Katsuki isn’t happy, to say the least.

It’s not like Todoroki can help it: his agent basically ignored him when he asked her for an easier schedule. He has photoshoots or interviews nearly every day after school, so he has to run back to make it to the remedial lessons at six. He didn’t even have time to change today, so he’s still in the ripped jeans, collared blue shirt, and brown cardigan they put him in for the shoot. He even still has makeup on, although it’s probably been ruined by sweat.

“Now that you’ve deigned to join us, your majesty, let’s start.” Katsuki picks up a stack of papers on Aizawa’s vacant podium and passes them around. “These are practice tests. You morons are going to use what we went over during the last session and get over eighty percent on these, or we’ll do proofs for an hour straight. Got it?”

Silence.

Todoroki looks up after stripping off his cardigan and rolling up his shirt sleeves to find them all looking at him, including Katsuki.

Todoroki clears his throat, and everyone looks away instantly. “Sorry. Ah… You were saying, Bakugou?”

Katsuki, seeming significantly more annoyed than before, restarts his speech. Todoroki lingers in the background, only half-listening. He isn’t sure if he’s actually much help at these remedial lessons. His goal was to work closely with Katsuki, but there haven’t been any chances. On top of Todoroki always being late, Katsuki actually treats this like a job. He’s surprisingly dedicated to helping their classmates, to the point where Todoroki feels like dead weight.

“The hell’s up with you?” Katsuki demands after the remedial students leave—all having finished their tests with scores over 80, much to Katsuki’s pleasant surprise. His tone is more confrontational than conversational.

“I already apologized for being late,” Todoroki sighs. He already knows where this is headed: they’ve had the same exact talk every day this week. He doesn’t want to have it today. All of his energy is gone.

Perhaps Katsuki can tell—they did used to be close, after all—because instead of the inevitable scolding Todoroki was expecting, he receives a quiet, “Don’t be late again.”

It’s strange. More than strange, because Katsuki is being soft again. First it was back at the shed, and now this. Todoroki can’t deal with the way his look changes sometimes; the way his eyes seem to shift, becoming questioning, becoming different; with the way they eventually return to normal again, and the moment is gone.

Katsuki is just… so different. His hair, for one, and his piercings—and his attitude, most noticeably of all. Well, maybe second most noticeably. He’s also, to put it in simple terms, attractive now. Incredibly so. Todoroki obviously never saw him as anything more than a friend when they were kids, but now? Now it’s like the wool’s been pulled from his eyes. He sees all the things he couldn’t see before—like the curve of muscles under Katsuki’s jersey, and the way the veins in his arms flex as he picks up papers, or the way his black hair makes his eyes look a shade even deeper than red.

“What are you staring at?” Katsuki’s gaze settles on his face, and Todoroki thinks about not looking away. He thinks about staring back until he can find something recognizable in these eyes that he used to know so well.

But then he gives in; averts his gaze; clears his throat. “Nothing. I was just lost in thought.”

Todoroki does look up again, only briefly, to see that Katsuki has gone back to collecting papers. The ebony of his hair against the tan skin of his neck as he bends over the desks is strange and foreign.

“Your hair,” Todoroki finds himself saying. “I miss it being blond.”

“What?” Katsuki looks at him as if he’s lost his mind. Todoroki doesn’t fail to notice the way his hand flits to his scalp, then quickly back to his side. “Why the fuck are you saying that all of a sudden?” He snatches the last paper and roughly elbows Todoroki aside. “I’m going to put these away. Get lost already—and don’t be late tomorrow.”

Todoroki stares at the door for longer than he should. He isn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he thinks he saw faint red dusting the back of Katsuki’s neck. The black of his hair only made it stand out even more.

It probably was his imagination. And he should probably leave, because Katsuki will most certainly yell at him if he sticks around. ‘Damn Half n’ Half dumbass bastard, what the fuck are you still doing here? ’ or something along those lines. Half n’ Half is Katsuki’s new favorite insult. It’s because of Todoroki’s hair, which he started dying for his modeling career and never bothered to change.

Before Katsuki really does come back and scold him, Todoroki gathers his things and heads outside. It’s dark already—it’s nearing eight thirty—and the sky is a dark blue quickly encroaching on black. The night breeze is chilly enough that Todoroki stops by the front gate to put his cardigan back on. He’s got one arm in the sleeve when he spots someone vaguely familiar lingering just outside the gate.

It’s the guy Katsuki was talking to on the first day of school. What was his name, again? Shigaraki? It’s strange that he’s here so late, but if he and Katsuki are friends, maybe he can tell Todoroki a bit about him. Even if the guy is creepy, it’s worth a shot.

“Hey.” Todoroki approaches cautiously, waiting until he has Shigaraki’s attention to continue. “Are you looking for Bakugou? He probably won’t be out for awhile.”

Shigaraki’s expression is hard to read, but he’s smiling, at least. Even if it’s a strange, not-all-there smile. “Is that so?” He shrugs away from the wall, sticking his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatshirt. “He was supposed to go to a café with me. Why don’t you come instead?”

Todoroki frowns, fingers tracing along the edge of his backpack straps nervously. Why would they be meeting up? He remembers enough of their conversation to guess that Katsuki doesn’t like Shigaraki very much. But this is such a good opportunity… Ugh.

“Okay,” Todoroki agrees, pushing away every ounce of doubt. “What café?” He can’t pass up a chance to learn more about Katsuki—at least, not when he still refuses to talk about anything other than school.

“Just follow me.” Shigaraki is still smiling.

Todoroki tries very hard to convince himself that it's a reassuring smile and that he isn’t being lured into an alleyway or abandoned building to be murdered. Fuyumi would kill him twice over for being stupid enough to follow a stranger—even if that stranger knows one of his friends. Ex-friends? Whatever.

Ah, he was psyching himself out for nothing… The place Shigaraki brings him is a plain old coffee shop, with a pastel interior and comfy booths and the heavy bitter-sweet smell of espresso. They take a seat in the corner, surrounded by plush cushions and decorative paintings. Not sinister in the least. In fact, the place puts him at ease enough to get down to business.

“Sorry to do this right when we sit down, but…” Todoroki leans forward in the booth, glancing around to make sure that Katsuki isn’t somehow here to eavesdrop. He isn’t, obviously, but he still keeps his voice low anyway. “I was wondering… exactly how much do you know about Bakugou?”

* * * * * *

“Shouto, you’re home late.” Fuyumi glances up from her spot at the kitchen table with a raised brow. She’s got a laptop in front of her and several open files, as well as a half-empty cup of coffee. It looks like she’s expecting a long night.

Todoroki kicks off his shoes at the door. “Sorry. I went to visit a café with… a friend from school.” Better to lie than to have her asking questions.

“Oh, you made a friend? That’s good.” Fuyumi has already turned back to her work: crisis averted. Todoroki breathes a sigh of relief, but he isn’t in the clear yet. She snags his wrist when he tries to pass her to reach the stairs. “Hold on. Did you eat?”

“Fuyumi— “

“Don’t ‘Fuyumi’ me, you brat. I made you rice balls. They’re in the fridge, and if you don’t eat them all, I swear I’ll set your favorite sweater on fire—“

“Okay, okay.” Todoroki grimaces and switches directions to head into the kitchen. “I’m taking them. Geez.” He grabs the rice balls from the second shelf and retreats upstairs, sitting cross-legged on the floor to eat.

He’s exhausted after running from the shoot straight to the remedial lesson, then spending two hours at the café talking to Shigaraki—who isn’t actually a bad guy. He’s a bit awkward, and there’s definitely something strange about him, but he seems nice enough. He told Todoroki a lot about Katsuki. Apparently, they used to hang out in middle school.

Todoroki didn’t end up finding out what caused Katsuki to change so much, but he does know a few things about how to deal with him—courtesy of Shigaraki, whose number is now saved on his phone. The thing that stuck out the most was that he said to be ‘cute,’ whatever that means. Todoroki figures he’ll have to try out some different things.

It’s weird. For once, he’s feeling so hopeful that he can’t stop smiling. After he finishes the rice balls, he composes an email to his agent—and then deletes it and starts another one. He still isn’t quite sure how to quit. Can he just come out and say it? That somehow doesn’t seem like it’ll work. He’s never actually quit anything before, so he doesn’t know what one is supposed to say.

Ah, he’s getting a message. He'll worry about it tomorrow. Todoroki gets up from the floor and sits on his mattress before checking it.

from: Touya  at: 10:36 PM.

>> Hey, I’m coming back to town this weekend. I tried to ask Fuyumi if she wants to meet up but she’s ignoring me. I think she’s pissed.

Touya, huh? It’s been a while. Todoroki last heard from him right after their dad died. Of course he’d only come to him when Fuyumi is mad.

to: Touya  at: 10:38 PM.

>> She has a right to be mad. Did you apologize?

The answer is obvious, even before the response comes. Touya might be the most irresponsible person in the world.

from: Touya  at: 10:40 PM.

>> No. She’s the one who’s overreacting. Why should I have to apologize?

Todoroki rolls his eyes. He’s not even going to bother responding to that. His brother probably won’t listen, anyway. Why is everyone so immature? Touya refuses to apologize, Katsuki keeps giving Todoroki the cold shoulder… The world is full of imbeciles.

Todoroki gets up to grab his bag with a sigh, pausing when he knocks something off his bed. His and Katsuki’s smiling faces beam up at him from the carpet, their arms wrapped around each other like they never want to let go. Todoroki forgot he had the picture on his bed. He’s been looking at it a lot recently, getting caught up in nostalgia. (He isn’t a very productive person.)

Katsuki really did look much better with blond hair. The black makes him blend in too much. Todoroki always thought he was the kind of person born to stand out, with his crimson eyes and hair the color of winter sunlight. In fact, the whole reason Todoroki chose his current look to trademark in the modeling industry was because of Katsuki. He was going for blond on the right side, but it turned out more white—and by then it was too late to change it.

Todoroki probably shouldn’t be obsessing over his hair so much. It’s pointless, especially when he’s been over about a million fantasy scenarios in his head—scenarios where things turned out differently. But Katsuki is a different person now: Todoroki knows that. He’s crass and unfriendly and completely impossible to figure out. He doesn’t want anything to do with him, but there are times when it seems as if there’s something between them. To put it simply, Katsuki’s hair is the absolute last of Todoroki’s problems.

But still, if even one thing were to return to how it used to be, then…

Ah, never mind. He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

previous | next

[arielwinter-daily]

Ariel Winter on Mental Health, Trolls and Life After "Modern Family"

The changing seasons are always tumultuous, with storms washing away the stains of months past and nature struggling to shed or regrow. This spring has been particularly uncertain, to say the least. But in early March, when actor Ariel Winter showed up in Manhattan, it seemed spring had come early, and it wasn’t just the warm temperatures and premature blooms that indicated the shift.

On April 8, Modern Family will air its final episode, closing an 11-year chapter in Ariel’s life. The 22-year-old has played Alex Dunphy on the Emmy-winning show for exactly half of her life. With more than ten million viewers per episode, Ariel is very recognizable as Alex; she is someone viewers think they know. She has a dry sense of humor and a quick wit; she speaks fast and delivers punchlines with ease. In those ways, she’s like the character she plays on TV. But that’s where the comparison stops.

Ariel seems cognizant of the balance between performing, what people think Ariel Winter is like, and actually being Ariel Winter: She’s a smart, kind, and strong young woman who’s developed a thick skin over the years — but she’s not untouchable.

Some celebrities maintain a quiet, different-than-you air, even when you’re standing right next to them. But Ariel isn’t like that; she speaks easily and honestly and looks you in the eye. On a gray day in New York, stylists and makeup artists flurry around her, primping and preening her for a photo shoot. Ariel jokes with all of them, remaining flexible, working with the team to find outfits she likes. In front of the camera she moves with the confidence of someone who’s done this many times before. There’s no pretension to her.

Ariel is now emerging from the security of her long-running show as an adult, tasked with making her way in the world as a young woman. She’s still figuring out what that will look like.

“Life is not predictable,” Ariel tells Teen Vogue, sitting on a couch with her leg tucked under her newly red hair flowing over her shoulders. “That’s why it’s unknown and it’s scary. So I try to go with the flow as much as possible.” She’s just finished one photo shoot, and is pausing to chat before she rushes to another. “I do not like lack of control,” she adds. “I don’t like that. So that’s definitely been hard for me.”

But just because Ariel doesn’t know what the future holds doesn’t mean she doesn’t know who she is.

Born Ariel Winter Workman, she grew up in Hollywood. Ariel first hit the scene at age five, in a Cool Whip commercial. After various smaller roles, she landed the part of Alex Dunphy on Modern Family, in 2009, when she was just 11, playing the nerdy middle child in a quirky but close family, often acting as the grounding presence in a head-in-the-clouds bunch. In real life, Ariel’s family life wasn’t quite as picturesque. She moved in with her sister, Shanelle Gray, when she was 14, and was legally emancipated from her mother — who she’s spoken about in the past — a year later.

Ariel has said that her sister has been an overwhelmingly positive force in her life. In fact, it was Ariel’s sister who first recommended she go to therapy, something Ariel says has changed the game for her.

“I go to therapy every week and I’ve been doing it for eight years. It is fantastic,” she says. “For me, therapy is so important. I never want to quit therapy. I feel like people are never ‘cured’ [with] therapy. It’s not a ‘cured’ thing, because you’re not going in sick. You’re just going in.”

For Ariel, therapy is about putting in the work to better yourself, which she says everyone should try to do. “What’s negative and wrong and embarrassing about bettering your life?” she asks. “Isn’t that what everyone wants — to be better and feel healthier and be happier?”

Ariel’s journey to being happier has been bumpy. She started taking antidepressants a while ago, but she struggled to find the right drug and dosage. She isn’t alone: One study posited that the rate of effectiveness for antidepressants was lower than previously thought, possibly because people stop taking them when they experience adverse side effects.

“The only negative about [mental health medication] is the process to finding the right one,” she says. “Some of them have really negative side effects, and it can be really disheartening to take something that’s supposed to make you feel better but it makes you feel ten times worse.’”

Eventually, Ariel found that a low dose of three different medications was the key — they help her feel happy and stave off depression. As a result of switching medications, she also happened to lose 30 pounds. Ariel says the public homed in on her weight loss, both shaming and praising her for it. Many, she says, even suggested she switched her medication to try to lose weight.

“A lot of people commented on my post like, ‘No, she changed her antidepressant because she wanted to lose weight,’” Ariel says. “No! I thought every medication I was on, I was going to stay at that weight, and that was fine. It had nothing to do with that.”

Aside from people conjecturing about her mental health, medication, and weight, Ariel says she sees something on social media that is perhaps even more concerning: “I get so many DMs [asking] ‘What medication are you on? I want to lose weight; I want that medication.’ What I would really like for people to understand is, every medication affects everyone differently. We’re all made differently. Everything is different.”

Of course, any questions about Ariel’s weight loss because of antidepressants is missing the bigger point of a young woman taking steps to improve her mental health.

But Ariel is used to people missing the point because of how she looks.

If you Google “Ariel Winter” right now, you’ll almost exclusively see headlines about her body: her low-cut top, her thong dress, her “baring” all. You might see articles about her weight, about her “clapping back” at body shamers, about her friend and costar Sarah Hyland defending her from trolls. The theme is clear.

The headlines about Ariel’s body often overshadow her accomplishments. For example, the headline about her thong dress could have been about her celebrating the Emmy-winning show she just wrapped; a headline about her “showing skin” in a costume should have been about her 22nd birthday. And it’s not just headlines. On Instagram, Ariel gets comment after comment about her body, and it hurts.

“People on the internet really suck. It bothered me for so many years — I mean, it still does. It never goes away. When someone calls you a ‘fat slut,’ you’re not feeling happy about it. It doesn’t matter what you look like now, it doesn’t matter what you looked like then,” Ariel says. “You’re still going to read that and be like, ‘Oh, that sucks.’”

Ariel has been known to defend herself against detractors, but it’s something she’s doing less of these days. Many take her confident responses to trolls to mean the negativity is not affecting her, but the truth is, Ariel says, that she’s put in a lot of work to make the negative comments matter less.

“I feel like that [pain] never goes away. People are like, ‘How do you get that to go away? It doesn’t bother you at all anymore.’ Again, that’s missing the point. What I’ve said is, I’ve learned to deal with it more,” Ariel explains. “It’s a journey of being confident enough to look at that and evaluate my opinion of myself, which I’m not fully at yet. I’m still working there.”

When she started receiving nasty comments, Ariel said it was all-consuming. She’d fire back nasty comments to her nasty commenters, but that didn’t help.

“That doesn’t feel good,” she says. “I don’t like to hurt people. It doesn’t bring me joy. And at the same time, when I’m writing that negative comment back to them, I’m not being like, ‘Yeah! I defended myself!’ and, like, laughing and feeling good. I’m writing it back, and I’m sad that they wrote me that, and then I’m sad I wrote that back and started this whole thing.”

Now Ariel tries to remember that the only opinion that really matters is her own, taking the power away from her detractors. While years of therapy have no doubt helped Ariel give less credence to negative comments, she remembers one specific Instagram comment that helped shift her focus.

“I had someone comment on one of my pictures, and it really bugged me. They said, ‘So many people on your photos, it really is divided. So many people show so much love and support, and you spend so much time on the negative comments and ignore all the positive ones.’ It really sucked to read that because that’s true,” Ariel says. “You overlook the positive comments, because as soon as you see the positive ones it’s like, ‘Okay, great, but these people don’t agree.’ But why do those people’s [negative] comments matter more than those [positive] comments?”

Still, wouldn’t it be nice if we all noticed Ariel for who she is and what she does, and not what she looks like?

“I’d love for people to see the things I do, not really what I look like, because that’s mainly what’s talked about.”

Ariel says she’d like recognition for her actions, not her looks, but she also says she doesn’t need the world to know everything about her. Like a lot of celebrities, she’d prefer a bit of anonymity in her daily life. She posts sparingly on social media, compared with other young stars, and the bits she does share don’t tell us too much about who she is or what she’s doing. It’s not that she’s holding back or hiding things; it’s just that Ariel is busier actually living life than documenting it.

“I would like for [people] to, of course, see the real me. But … I know that’s not really feasible,” she admits. “It’s rough sometimes, people being like, ‘I don’t know anything about her at all.’ That might be because I don’t put it out there as much.”

“Some people, on social media, they love to share everything, and they know how to share everything, and they’re comfortable sharing everything,” Ariel observes. “I know who I am, and the people around me know who I am; but expressing that to somebody else and having to prove to somebody and be like, ‘I need you to see me this way,’ is not something I do very well.”

The other part of it, Ariel says, is that she’s just like anyone else. She likes sitting on her couch, ordering takeout, watching TV, and hanging with her four dogs: Casper, Chloe, Cash, and Cleo. She likes her dogs so much that on the emotional last day of filming Modern Family, to cope, she went on an online shopping spree and ordered a phone case with the dogs’ faces on the back.

“I was sitting in my trailer, and I might have gone [online] and personalized a bunch of things and sent them to my house, and this was one of them,” she says slyly, holding up the plastic case featuring the fluffy faces.

Dogs are a huge part of Ariel’s life. Her ultimate goal, she says, is to open a shelter for senior dogs and dogs that have been sheltered for more than a year. A pit bull lover, Ariel is part of many animal rescue Facebook groups, and seeing those tiny faces behind bars tears her up. She’ll post on social media to help a dog, but much of her work to help dogs, and others, goes unseen on purpose.

“People may not see the things I do that matter to me,” she says. “That’s okay, because the people I do them for, it matters to them and they know.”

Ariel will stick to firm ground as she blossoms into her next phase of life. She’s hoping to help more dogs, continue to do good by others, still planning to work hard, and trying to get comfortable with the untold path her new season holds. Beyond that, she doesn’t really have a plan — no benchmarks to reach by a certain age because, she says, “I feel like nothing works that way.” But that’s okay.

“This is new territory for me,” Ariel says. “I was doing something very specific for so long. Now I have to reset my mind and retrain myself to be in that place of, ‘All right, I am ready to look for the next thing.’ I am ready to work,” she continues. “I am ready to do everything I can. I am ready to be in the right mindset to go in there again and be able to face the rejection that will come, and be able to move past that and go to the next audition and be ready for it. And be ready for things in my personal life. Just living.”

It’s not that she has no plans. Right now Ariel is working on filming a video game, an experience she says is totally new to her. As for the bigger picture?

“I want to stay the same person I am,” she says. “It’s way more rewarding at the end of the day. I want to stay the person I am, work hard, and see what happens.”

Source: Teen Vogue

[erislovelorne]

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” + Teen Titans

Eddie Bloomberg, also know as Kid Devil, well… more recently, Red Devil awoke in the dead of night to the smell of smoke. It was faint, he must’ve left his window open. Was the Tower burning? No… 

Cigarette smoke. 

Rose Wilson. The Ravager.

She was the only one on the team who smoked. He pulled on a hoodie and shorts, peeling himself out of bed and heading to the roof. It must’ve been close to 3 am, but that didn’t matter if Rose was back from wherever she’d disappeared to for the last week.

She was there alright, sitting on the edge with her back turned, recognizable in the dark only by her long ghostly white hair. 

“It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he said. 

No reply. 

“Rose?” he asked, tentative, scratching at the myriad of scars on his arms. It was a nervous habit he’s gained since shit went down at the Dark Side Club. Scared she might just be an apparition come to torment him. Maybe he was still asleep. Maybe he was still trapped in the dark cell dreaming it all. Fuck.

He shook his head, shaking the thoughts out of his mind. He padded, barefoot, over to the ledge and sat down next to her. Oh, he thought, She’s high, isn’t she?

Rose stared blankly off into the horizon, brow knitted together and eye unfocused. Her mask sat on the ground beside her and she still wore her uniform, there was blood spatter on the chain mail, probably not her own. Littered beside her mask were inhalers, a lot of them, and a bag. Shit. Her swords were still strapped to her back. 

A lit cigarette hung limply from one hand, slowly turning to ash, and an inhaler in the other. He took the cigarette from her hand gently, she didn’t react. Eddy extinguished it on the cold concrete and tossed it off the edge of the building. Watching it fall. 

He sat there for a bit, staring, thinking. Which, to be fair wasn’t particularly good for him since all he could think about was the Dark Side Club, but hey, at least he was trying to process it. Better to stay out here and keep an eye on Rose, who knew how long it would be before she came back.

After a while, he didn’t know how long, but the stars had moved position, he heard a quiet sniffle. He looked over to Rose. She was still gone, but she looked anguished, panicked, tears streaming down her face. She lifted a limp hand, about to reflexively take another hit of the inhaler, but it was empty.

“Come back, Rose, please,” he whispered, searching her face.

She scrunched up her face, still not looking at anything he could see, fumbling in the bag behind her for another inhaler, but they were all used up.

“No, no, no, no,” she muttered, “FUCK!”

“It’s okay,” he said, “Everything is okay,”

She went quiet again, shaking and crying silently. Rose never made noise when she cried. He wondered how many times she’d shed silent tears quickly absorbed into her mask. He reached out and took her hand, he squeezed it gently, she didn’t squeeze back. She was still gone. 

He waited while she came down from it, watching her and tracing circles into the back of her hand. He couldn’t recall ever having seen her so upset. 

She squeezed his hand, ever so slightly. 

“Rose?” he whispered. 

She squeezed again, firmer this time. She closed her eye, took a few shuddering breaths, then opened it again. She looked over.

“Eddie?” her voice was hoarse, well, it always was, but it was particularly raw. 

“I’m right here,” he gave a cheerful little smile.

“Is it… Am I back? Am I now again?” 

“I think so, well I guess I’d say that even if you weren’t. But I’m pretty sure it’s now again,” he felt so awkward around her.

“Shit. Eddie…”

She launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and catching him off guard. He toppled back onto the concrete, with her on top of him. She clung to him and started sobbing. He didn’t really know what to do with his hands, so he wrapped them both around her waist, trying to hold her comfortingly. He could feel her heartbeat, the adrenaline she’d been taking made it sound like a hummingbird. 

She kept crying and repeating his name, shaking. He half worried her heart was going to beat its way out of her chest.

“Rose, what’s wrong? Am I going to do something bad? Am I going to hurt you?” he moved a hand up to her hair, doing his best to be comforting.

She sobbed harder.

“No, never,” she whispered, “Eddie you’d never,” the words were clawing their way from her throat, “Eddie… you’re…”

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t get it out.

“What? What’s going to happen? What’s wrong?” he didn’t want to raise his voice but she scared was scaring the living shit out of him.

She pulled back, sitting up and taking his face in her hands, searching his features for something he didn’t understand. Her eyes were wide and frantic, her hair was a mess. 

“Eddie you’re going to die.”

Shit.

He took a deep breath.

And exhaled.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I couldn’t figure out why or how or when, I almost did I was so close, if I’d had just a bit more I could have done it I know it,” she babbled frantically, not listening to him.

“It doesn’t really matter,”

“They’re going to put a statue up, in the hall. Of you. Eddie you’re going to die. I’m not going to be there. Eddie, I don’t go to your funeral. They’re going to honor you. You sacrifice yourself. Everyone’s there. Except me. I’m not there. Eddie,” she broke down again, collapsing back on top of him. He sat up, scooting back from the ledge and pulling her into his lap.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” he said, combing his one of hands through her hair.

She looked at him. Really looked at him.

“Eddie.”

“Yes, Rose?”

“You’re going to fucking die.”

“I know.”

Her brow furrowed, she pressed her lips together. 

“Why don’t you care?”

“I’m living on borrowed time anyway,” he shrugged, carefully so as not to dislodge her.

“That’s not true, there’s… I’m sure we can fix it. We’ll find a way. You know the Titans are looking into it.”

“I made a choice the second I signed my soul away. You can’t cheat the devil and get away with it. Time up when I’m twenty, so what do a year or two really matter.”

She looked away, folding her hands in front of her.

“It matters to me,”

“I’m sorry for your loss,”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I’m the one dying here, this is harder for me than it is for you,” he tried to get a laugh out of her but she just glowered. Shit, she’s… actually upset. Fuck.

There were a few moments of silence, she moved her arms around his shoulders, leaning into his chest and tucking herself under his chin. Coming down from the adrenaline was making it a pain to sit up by herself.

“Why are you glad?”

“Huh, I didn’t realize you were listening.”

“Answer,” she mumbled into the fabric of his hoodie.

“I guess… well two things really, one of them’s kind of silly. If I get a statue, well I guess that means they truly accept me at some point and I get to be like a real titan. And… if I die for them, it means my life mattered for something. Like… at least I was worth something to someone. Helped someone out.”

“You don’t need to be a martyr…” she slumped further into his chest.

“But if I’m dead soon anyway I might as well be,”

She didn’t really have anything to say to that, so they sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“I love you, Eddie,” she mumbled into his neck.

“You’re high,”

“ ‘am not… I love you…”

She pulled his head down, trying to press their lips together.

“Rose, you’re high. Tell me again in the morning and I’ll believe you,”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she tried to kiss him again. He wanted so badly to kiss her, to tell her he loved her and spend the rest of his life with this savage and untamed woman.

“You can crash in my room,” he said instead.

“Don’t leave me,” she tugged on the hem of his sweater trying to pull it off, he held both her hands in his, keeping them still.

“I won’t.”

“You will, everyone does, I need you to love me Eddie,” she said, more insistently, tears welling up in her eye.

“I won’t, at least not for tonight. Not until the world rips me from you, Rose,” he looked at her.

“I love you, Eddie, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you and I’m too much of a pussy to tell you when I’m sober,” she balled up her fists and beat on his chest as she repeated her mantra, he could tell she wasn’t trying to hurt him though, she just wasn’t the kind of person who could confess something like that sitting still.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, then you can decide if you want to say it back. When you’re fully back and you can tell then from now.”

“Okay,” she said, “Eddie, I’m tired,”

She slumped forward against him, closing her eyes.

“Yeah, me too.”

He got to his feet, setting her gently on the ground while he grabbed her mask and bag. Then he swept the used inhalers off the balcony. He’d ask her tomorrow to get help, let her tell Cassie or somebody on her own terms.

Eddie scooped her up gently, she curled into him, trusting him to carry her. He took her back to his room. Her hands were too heavy and unsteady to peel herself out of her bloodsoaked uniform, so he helped, lending her a shirt and boxers. He helped her to bed, intending to sleep on the floor but she held is hand. He tried to pull away but she pulled back, making it clear what she wanted. He laid down beside her.

 She curled up with her head on his chest and her back to the wall, the aftermath of all the adrenaline she’d inhaled sending her quickly into sleep. He wrapped his arms around her as best he could, hoping that for once she’d be able to wake up feeling safe, and quickly joined her in sleep. 

[heyyyharry]

Plus One

(from the Couple in Flat 102 Series)

…in which Harry needs Y/N’s support, and Y/N is forgetful.

I wrote almost half of this chapter TWICE so you guys better love me 😂

wattpad link

.

"Josephine!"

The CEO's assistant flew right out of her chair when the young girl wearing Gucci strutted past her desk straight towards the CEO's office, turning a blind eye to curious stares shooting her way.

"Miss Davis! Your father is having a meeting, you cannot go in there!"

Josephine's words held up the girl, causing her to turn around and slide down her sunglasses to reveal her light brown eyes.

"Did he mention when he'd be done?" she asked, slightly disappointed.

"You're gonna have to wait at least an hour, darling."

The young girl rolled her eyes, releasing a sharp exhale for she hates waiting; but her frustration didn't last for too long when she spots the person who might keep her company until her dad was free to see her.

"Did Harry Styles just get his own office?" She asked her father's assistant, pointing to the young man who was carrying a carton box into a room.

"Yes, your father had that office cleaned up yesterday so Harry could move his stuff in there."

"Thanks, Josephine, you can go back to work now, I'll be fine on my own."

That was all Josephine had been waiting to hear so she could finally return to her desk and resume whatever work that she'd been assigned. Once she'd left, the brown-eyed girl quickly fixed her shirt and her hair as she took a deep breath before heading towards Harry's door while wearing the biggest grin on her face.

"Hey!"

Harry flinched when he nearly bumped into the girl on his way out of the office. To his surprise she pulled him into a hug and kissed him on the cheek like they were really close friends when in fact it took him a few seconds of stuttering to remember her name.

"Hey, Rose." He pressed his lips into a small smile and subtly took a step backward to keep a distance between them. "Here to see Mr. Boss?"

"Gee, he told everyone to call him that?" Rose laughed, shaking her head, making Harry laugh along.

Rose was his new boss' daughter, 20-year-old, still in university, a fashion student. Harry had met her the first time at her father's charity event, then the next two times when she came there to see her father, though everyone in the company said she showed up regularly only to see Harry. Harry himself, on the other hand, didn't think too much about her reason. Her dad owned that place so she could come however often she wanted; besides, he was already engaged, so this young girl's little crush on him was insignificant.

"Congrats on getting your own office! Daddy couldn't stop talking about you," said Rose with a lovely smile as she tiptoed to look over his shoulder into his new office. Now Harry understood why everyone there loved her, it was not just the fact that she was pretty and always so well-dressed, she also carried a positive energy to every room she walked in.

"Thank you. I'm very flattered," he replied and was just about to leave, but Rose continued talking in order to keep the conversation going.

"I don't know much about how this whole thing works..." She circled her finger in the air, rolling her eyes "...but daddy told me even his most hard-to-please clients loved you and that contract you got for him was one of the biggest ones this year."

"If it wasn't for your father—"

"He also said you were humble," Rose cut him off, biting back a smile as she stared at Harry. "I guess you're going to his annual dinner party right?"

"Yeah, I've been told." He nodded, shoving two hands into his pockets. "What's the story behind your father's tradition though?"

"Oooh, the second Wednesday of February, the second month of the year, is his lucky day so he throws a fancy dinner party every year on this day and invites all business partners and friends, many important people are gonna be there. He wouldn't invite just any employee, that person has to earn it, and I guess you're that person, he wants to show you off."

Harry started beaming as soon as he heard the compliment. He couldn't wait to tell his fiancé about this.

"But it's a plus-one party, has daddy told you? He's very serious about the number two so every guest who comes has to bring someone or else they're not allowed to enter."

"Yeah, he told me that as well."

"Super! If you want I can—"

"I'm taking my fiancé as my plus one," Harry said quickly, not giving the girl a chance to finish her suggestion. Rose stared at the older man, eyes widened as she released a soft chuckle.

"You're not engaged."

"I am." He proudly smiled. "I'll introduce you two at the party. You're gonna love Y/N."

"Wow, um...I'm sure she's a nice person." Rose smiled back, the disappointment on her face was definitely recognizable.

"I must get back to work now, we'll chat another time yeah?" Harry told the girl, patting her slightly on the arm and walking off. Rose turned her head, frowning as her eyes followed him until he was out of sight.

That wasn't the first time Harry'd had to indirectly reject someone. He had, in fact, done that multiple times ever since he'd started working here. Although he'd certainly changed a lot since his university days, the one thing that stayed the same was the amount of attention he got from most of the people who had met him. He was aware of it, it just never bothered him because he knew what was important in his life and what wasn't. His little family with Y/N was all he cared about.

"I can't believe you can still get college girls to swoon over you!" Y/N teased as she rested her chin on her knuckles, sitting at the dining table, watching her future husband chop the vegetables for dinner.

"Doesn't matter, you'll always be my favorite college girl no matter how old you are." He pointed the knife in his hand to Y/N and his cheeky wink got her laughing hard.

"That's the creepiest way to express your love to someone," she replied, smiling from ear to ear.

"Well, my two main goals as your future husband..." He loved referring to himself as her husband even though they weren't married, yet "...are to make you smile and make you cum everyday."

"Oh wow, that's very romantic, future husband. I'm shedding tears."

"Well thank you, future wife."

Y/N snorts, shaking her head. "We're such a lame couple."

"You're lame, I'm not, college girls still swoon over me."

"Shut up!" She jokingly grumbled, leaving a huge grin on his face as he set the knife down and went to the sink to wash his hands. That was when Y/N came to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his face down for a kiss as she told him how much she loved him.

"I love you too, princess." He smirked, holding her chin. "I cannot wait to introduce you to my co-workers."

"Oooh, I'd love to meet them, when?"

Judging by her question and the way she was smiling innocently at him, he knew she didn't remember their plan that Wednesday night. He wasn't offended or anything, he knew how busy she'd been with her own job, therefore she could get forgetful sometimes.

"My boss' plus one party?" he reminded her, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot!"

The way she groaned into her palms made him chuckle. She was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, how could he possibly be mad?

"I'm not mad at you, love, but you're gonna be there right?" He tilted his head to the side, pouting at her. "This party means a lot to me and I want you to be there with me. Also, they're not gonna let me in if I come alone."

"Of course I'm gonna be there! How can I miss my baby's big day?" She pecked him on the lips, stroking his cheek. "I'll stop by as soon as I finish work, I promise."

And so he believed her, like he always had.

.

.

.

On Wednesday morning, both Harry and Y/N overslept. Maybe if they hadn't stayed up so late watching Black Mirror on Netflix, they wouldn't have woken up nearly an hour after having turned off their alarm. As soon as they flew out of bed, the young engaged couple didn't even have time to eat breakfast before they get ready to go to work. And it was not until Harry had dropped Y/N off at her workplace, kissed her goodbye and drove away, did he realize he'd forgotten to remind her about the party.

But then he assumed that she already remembered. After all, she gave him her words, she had never and would never bail on him...

...or so he thought.

Now as he was standing right outside his boss' surprisingly enormous mansion, checking his watch every few seconds in the last hour, he was afraid that she might not show up. He'd tried calling her many times but she had her phone turned off, now he was extremely worried. Harry intended to drop everything to drive home and check if she was alright, yet as soon as he was about to leave, he received a text from her saying she'd be home late because she'd gone out for a few drinks with some of her co-workers.

After seeing that message, Harry had never been more let down.

He was mad at her, yes, but mostly just sad and disappointed. She knew how much this meant to him, still she didn't even bother to write herself a memo or set a reminder on her phone so that she wouldn't forget. He knew he would, because he had never missed a chance to support her. Maybe he shouldn't have just assumed she would also do the same.

Harry didn't answer her text, instead he thought he should call Niall and ask him to be his emergency plus one. Though it might be weird to bring his best friend and Niall could be embarrassing, he literally had no other option now, did he? Well, thank God, he did. Just as he was about to make that phone call, Rose showed up as his lifesaver.

He almost didn't recognize her at first because she was always dressed like a rich businesswoman whenever she came visit her father at the office. Tonight, Rose was wearing a baby blue satin dress that showed off her long legs and hugged her curves perfectly. Her black hair wasn't put up in a low bun like usual but let down and curled into soft waves falling just right past her exposed slim shoulders. As soon as Rose appeared at the front door, all eyes were on her, and even Harry himself must admit that she was probably the prettiest girl here tonight.

"Harry, why are you standing out here?" She asked before looking around. "Where's your fiancé?"

"She..." He faked an awkward smile, hands shoved into his trousers' pockets. "She cannot make it. She's busy."

Rose reacted by giving him a pouty frown.

"No, no, you don't have to worry about me," he said. "I was just about to call my best friend and—"

"Just come in."

"But I haven't got a—"

Rose shushed him immediately as she took hold of his hand and turned to the big guy in a suit who was in charge of the guest list.

"He's my plus one," she said with a charming smile. And the guy didn't even need to check for Harry's name, he just let him come in with Rose.

The twenty-year-old held Harry's hand tight as she dragged him with her to go find her father. She seemed excited, probably had had a few drinks before, and went on and on about how glad she was that he was here since she'd thought he wouldn't even show up.

"How long had you been waiting out there?!"

"Uhm...not too long," Harry lied, pushing his way through the crowd as he tried to catch up with her pace. His answer caused a beam to form on her face.

"Aren't you happy I showed up?"

To be honest, he'd rather go home.

"Daddy! Harry's here!" Rose suddenly shouted and waved her other hand enthusiastically to get her father's attention.

Mr. Davis was chatting with a few other guests, but as soon as he heard his daughter's voice he had to pause the conversation to wave back at her. She finally released Harry's hand to give her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then greeted the other guests because apparently she already knew everyone.

"Aww, Rosaline!" Exclaimed the very tall lady with a glass of champagne in her hand. "The last time I saw you you were still in high school!"

"Yes, Ms. Tyson, it was five years ago!" Rose replied as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her father quickly added in, "well, Clarice, no matter how old this one is, she's still my little petal."

"Daddy!" Rose pouted at the old man before taking Harry's arm, pulling him to her side. "This is Harry, he's my plus one tonight."

Harry greeted his boss and shakes hands with everyone else in this circle, feeling Rose's grip tightened on him which makes him quite uncomfortable. He couldn't pull away though, not when her father was there.

"Is this your future son in law, Greyson?" The white-bearded man joked, making Mr. Davis throw his head back and burst into laughter.

"I wish! Unfortunately, Harry's engaged."

Everyone laughed along, everyone but Rose, who simply forced a smile instead.

"But I thought your fiancé was your plus one!"

"She cannot make it tonight, sir."

"Don't call me 'sir'. How many times do I have to tell you that, eh?" Said the CEO as he gave Harry a pat on the back.

And since Harry didn't say anything else, Rose took the chance to cut short the conversation, tugging on his arm as she said, "come with me, let's get you a drink."

.

.

.

"...so the profits actually rose by 2% compared to the—"

Rose's loud groan caused her father to pause midway through his sentence to look at her and so did Harry. She quickly gulped down the wine in her glass and rose up, grinning widely.

"Do you two have to talk about business here? At a party?" She complained, tapping her fingers down on the counter.

"I'm really sorry, son." The man turned to Harry. "I must have bored you out."

"No, no, I was very interested in what you were saying, sir."

"Aren't you a nice young man, well, you kids have fun, I'm gonna go talk to a few other friends," Mr. Davis declared before telling his daughter not to bother Harry too much, and then he walked away, leaving Harry alone with Rose. As the girl told the bartender to get her another drink, Harry stole the opportunity to check his phone, hoping that there was a missed call or a new message from Y/N. Still, nothing.

"After the party I'm going to a karaoke bar with my cousins, you can come with us if you want."

Rose's voice pulled his attention away from the device. Harry blew up his cheeks. He straightforward told her he'd love to hang out, but probably another time, because he'd got to go home and check on his fiancé.

"How busy is she?" Rose scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I would drop everything to be here and support my fiancé. Priorities."

Harry didn't respond, he wanted to defend Y/N, but Rose'd got a point. Harry would've done it as well if Y/N had been in his position. Nevertheless, that night should be about him and he'd spent most of it worrying and being sad over the fact that she wasn't here. He should be having fun, he'd worked hard for this and he was allowed to enjoy it, even without her. And that was what he'd do. Harry decided to spend the rest of his time here having fun with Rose instead of being down in the dumps. They ended up eating a lot and drinking a lot and she as well as her father even introduced him to a bunch of people with big names. He'd had a good time.

As the party came to an end and the guests gradually headed out and return to their rides, Harry thought it was also time for him to go home. He didn't know what he wanted to say to Y/N when he got back, or if he wanted to say anything to her at all. He only knew he should leave.

After saying good bye to his boss and thanking him for the invitation, he walked around to look for Rose, who'd gone to the ladies room and hadn't returned since. He couldn't find her anywhere so he just followed the other guests out of the front door. When Harry was about to reach his car, however, Rose stopped him by calling out his name as she chased after him.

"You're leaving without saying goodbye to me?" She stopped in front of Harry, trying to catch her breath. The grimace on her face made him think she was really mad at him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't find you so I—"

"I was messing with ya, silly!" She reached out to touch his arm and laughed. "I just want to thank you before you leave."

"For what?"

"For spending time with me tonight. You should've seen me last year, I was sitting in a corner, avoiding all human interactions and drinking on my own. Same old shit, different year you know." She gave him a depressing shrug and smiled softly. "I'm just happy you're here tonight."

Harry honestly didn't know what to say to her after hearing that; at the end he smiled, telling her it was no big deal and that he'd had fun as well.

"Good night," he said to her, making the young girl giggle.

"Good night, Harry! I'll see you tomorrow! Drive safe!"

Harry got into his car and started the engine. Rose was still standing there so he gave her a small wave from the window before taking off. With Y/N being the only thing left on his mind when he drove away, he couldn't notice the poor girl who stayed where she was and watched his car until it was completely out of sight.

.

.

.

When Harry arrived home, the lights were still off. That was how he knew Y/N was still not home yet even though it was now already past midnight. Their cat, Treasure was spending time with his sister Gemma that week so now he was all alone. Frustrated, tired, and upset, Harry dropped his aching body down on the sofa with his head tossed back and shirt untucked, waiting for her. Five minutes became twenty minutes, and he couldn't take it anymore. He stood up and headed into their bedroom.

When Y/N arrived home, she found Harry on his way to the front door, carrying a bag and his car key. The smile on her face dropped instantly because she could sense that something was wrong.

"Where are you going?" She asked worriedly.

He wasn't even looking at her when he said with a straight face, "gonna spend the night at the office to finish work. Goodnight."

"Wait...Wha...What happened? Are you upset about something?"

Her questions stopped him before he reached for the doorknob. He turned around, and finally looked at her in the eyes.

"It's Wednesday night, Y/N. Where were you?"

"I texted you. I was out with my co-workers." She laughed nervously, still having no clue why he was acting so weird about it.

"It's Wednesday night," he repeated the same three words, but more assertive this time. It took Y/N a few seconds to realize what he actually meant, and when she did, her eyes and mouth widened immediately, guilt was etched on her face, she knew she'd fucked up.

"I'm very sorry..." She reached for his free hand. He didn't pull away, but he didn't hold her hand back either. "Can we at least talk about this?"

"I waited for you for an hour, Y/N. Like an idiot. If Rose hadn't shown up, they wouldn't have let me in!"

"Rose? That college girl? You were with her?"

"That's all you cared about?! That I was with someone else?  I wouldn't have gone with her if you'd shown up!"

The way he suddenly raised his voice really caught her off guard. And she ended up doing what she shouldn't have, yelling back at him.

"Hey, I know I forgot but I already said sorry! What else do you want me to do? Go back in time and go to that party?!"

"Don't you get it?" He exhaled harshly. "I'm not mad because you forgot! I'm mad because you knew you were gonna forget and you didn't even make an effort to set a reminder or something to help you remember! And now when you're saying 'sorry', you're just saying it to get this over with, not because you mean it! That's how little I matter to you!"

"I think you're overreacting!"

"No, I'm not. I would do anything to support you!" He asserted, pointing to his chest. "I showed up late at work many times because I'd stayed up the previous night helping you practice your presentations just so you could impress your boss. I said no to any afterwork parties because you wanted me to pick you up. I would do anything to support you but you cannot do the same for me!"

"Oh wow, seriously?" Y/N scoffed, holding her head in her hands. "Hey I let you fly all the way to Japan for six months for your internship."

"The only one time and you can't shut up about it, you bring it up all the time whenever we fight and make me feel bad about it! And thanks for bringing that up by the way, I now remember that I cut the internship down to three months to come home to you! But all you remembered was me going to Japan! It's always about you, Y/N!"

"So we're not gonna talk about how I went through hell and back to get a plane ticket, just so I could go home to you and Treasure on Christmas' Eve?! Stop being such a dick!"

That was the last straw for Harry. He said nothing and carried his bag out of the door without a second look back. Y/N didn't even bother to stop him. She held onto her pride until he was completely gone; and once the flat sank back to silence, Y/N's heart sank down to the bottom of her chest.

And all of a sudden, she missed him terribly.

.

.

.

Harry returned home at 2AM.

He had gone to his office, and he had planned on sleeping there tonight. But it'd only taken fifteen minutes alone by his desk, surrounded by his own thoughts for him to change his mind and decide to come home. He and Y/N had made a promise to each other that they would never walk away from an unresolved fight no matter how bad it was, and he'd done just that, he'd left her at home to sleep on her own. He was just as wrong as she was.

Harry quietly entered their bedroom, trying not to make a sound when he opened the door because he assumes she must be asleep. Well, she wasn't. She was wide awake, sitting on the bed with her knees held to her chest. Her watery eyes immediately shoot to the door as soon as she heard the sound, and all it took was one look at her for Harry to rush to her side and pull her into his arms.

She hugged him back just as tight, face buried into his shirt and constantly mumbling the words "I'm sorry" to him because she felt like once was just not enough after what'd happened.

"Shhh, it's okay love," he spoke into her hair. "I'm here now, I'm sorry for leaving, I won't do that again."

Y/N immediately pulled away, holding his face while shaking her head fast to disagree with what he'd just said. "You don't have to apologize for anything. You were right, I was so selfish. I only cared about my job when I should've been more supportive to you. You have every right to be mad at me."

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm not mad anymore," he cut her off, afraid that if he let her go on she'd continue to apologize until sunrise. "I said what I said because I was angry, I wasn't thinking straight. But as soon as I was alone, I realized how much of a dick I was. I shouldn't have raised my voice, shouldn't have yelled at you, I shouldn't have left, I'm so so sorry, love."

She nodded once and lowered her head after hearing that. He patiently waited for her to gather her thoughts for a moment; and after a while, she began, almost as a whisper but loud enough for also him to hear, "I thought about how you said you didn't matter to me, and I felt so bad that I made you think so. You matter a lot, and I love you, a lot."

"I know, love, I know."

"I was so defensive because everything you said was right. You've sacrificed so much for me and all I've ever done for you were complaining and letting you down. Gosh, I'm such a terrible girlfriend, I'm the worst!"

"Okay, first of all, I didn't sacrifice anything. I did all those things for you because I love you, and I don't mind going through a bit trouble to make you happy." He stroked her cheeks tenderly, beaming at her. "Second of all, you're not the worst girlfriend, you're the best fiancé I could ever ask for, and you're gonna be the best wife. And if we're gonna spend the rest of our lives together, we're gonna have many more fights like this. Sometimes even the silliest things can trigger us to start an argument."

"Like how you always toss your clothes outside the laundry basket and never bother to pick it up and put it in there?" She giggled, making him laugh.

"Yes, love. And sometimes, like tonight, we're gonna start yelling at each other and saying things that hurt."

She slowly nodded, twitching her lips.

"But I promise you that no matter how bad the fight is, I won't walk away again like tonight, I won't leave our home, I won't leave you here to sleep alone, never again."

As soon as he finished, Y/N took both of his hands and brought them to her heart. "And I promise I will pay more attention to you and stop making everything about me. I'm gonna support as much as you've done for me."

"Sounds like a good deal." Harry gladly agreed, and immediately she pulled him in for a kiss, mumbling against his mouth about how much she'd missed him even though it'd only been a couple hours since their fight.

"When you walked out...did you regret asking me to marry you?" Y/N asked with her forehead resting against his, making him chuckle.

"No, love," he replied without hesitation. "Not even when we were shouting at each other."

And after hearing that answer, Y/N had no more doubt that no matter what happened, they were gonna be alright.

.

.

.

"Ms. Davis!"

"Hi, Josephine, is Har—"

Rose Davis shut up right away when she saw a girl leaving Harry's office, followed by Harry himself. She'd never met Y/N or seen a photo of her before, but judging by the way Harry was smiling and the look in his eyes as he stared at this stranger, Rose knew for sure that was definitely her.

"That's Y/N, she's his—"

"Fiancé. I know!" She suddenly snarled at Josephine, causing the poor girl to flinch in shock because that was the first time Rose had ever acted this way. Rose was not mad at Josephine, she was just upset about Y/N being here. Of course Y/N was allowed to come visit Harry, most of the employees had gone out for lunch, and the rest were doing their own things anyway. What pissed Rose off was the fact that she'd come here to see Harry, hoping to hear him talk about his conflict with his fiancé then comfort him afterwards, but apparently the couple'd had everything figured out on their own. So even though Rose loved to see a happy Harry, she couldn't say she wasn't disappointed.

Rose had to watch in agony as the couple shared one last kiss and Harry mumbled "I love you" to Y/N when they pulled away. It wasn't until Y/N had left that Harry finally noticed Rose standing there as he waved and smiled at her. She returned the friendly gesture, giving him a smile just as big as his. Little did he know, she was far from happy.

[connywrites]

of flesh and blood 18

start - part [17]

-

The day went on as usual, and Gavin wondered if he’d imagined everything from the night before.

It didn’t help that everything was different around him, too. The way people called his name, how they acknowledged his existence at all, treating him with respect, creating a new universal ambiance he wasn’t quite used to. Work went relatively well, as he’d left his ego at the door upon arriving and kept his prim and proper nature up throughout the day without any mistakes. The life he was living felt like an excerpt from a book, or watching a movie as he saw the people move around him, talk to each other as well as himself, but there was a recognizable distance between himself and everything else. Disassociation wasn’t unusual to him, but the extremity was new; the way he felt so out of place, like a puppet on strings, shuffling the paperwork in front of him with a look of exhaustion.

They’d never trusted him with paperwork. This wasn’t his part of the field. The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders; RK900 spoke often of how well he was doing, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had no idea who, what, or where he was, and looking at bulky lengths of texts still made his vision go blurry and his head ache. There was a reason he didn’t touch it, but now he’d been ‘granted’ with the nitty gritty details as well. He’d been promoted but he felt demoted with the way he was handling printer paper like it was the early 2000s, malcontent with his position, just as he always was.

At least it was easy; onto the scanner, through the printer, on a pile by the desk. Over and over. The nice clothes he’d developed a habit of wearing always grew itchy, but it made people treat him with a bit more respect, something he didn’t entirely mind even if it was strange and unusual. By the time work was over, he headed home, unlocking his door more diligently as he swung it open and expected the RK900 within his own sight. Sure enough, it beckoned with its eyes from the couch, laying haphazardly over the cushions with its head leaned against the armrest. Gavin was unsure what to do right away, frozen in place for a few seconds before closing the door behind him and turning all the latches to lock it a total of six times.

“Welcome home,” it purred. Gavin immediately felt sick to his stomach, trying to decide if he really wanted to ask a computer some questions just to get his evening routine through with. Slugging down the rest of his coffee, he tossed the empty cup across the room, missing the trashcan by a few inches but seeming unphased by the fact.

“Good to see you too,” Gavin mumbled. Remembering to keep his posture straight, he stiffened up, nudging off his shoes and leaving them at the door before he paused, not sure what to do. He didn’t want to go near the android, but he didn’t want to try and avoid it, either; the way it chased him was scarier than if he’d tolerated its presence in the first place.

“Thank you for doing what I asked of you.” Sighing, Gavin nodded, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in a moment of stress.

“Yes. S-sorry, again, sir. For what happened.”

“Take ownership for your actions, jackass.” Gavin flinched his eyes shut tight, and it took all his willpower not to scowl.

“Right. Er, sorry for what I did. To you.” Feeling stupid, he entwined his hands together, nudging the flat of his thumbs together awkwardly.

“Better. Care to come sit down? I’ll put something on TV.” Gavin didn’t feel brave enough to say no, but still felt reluctant to say yes. Opting not to speak at all, he walked over to sit on the couch. The android shifted to face him, leaning forward to slide off his jacket, then moving to unbotton his shirt as it half undressed him, leaving him topless. Letting it, Gavin felt both vulnerable from the invasive action yet grateful to shed the stiff clothes; missing his old leather hooded jacket that the android had thrown away, he mentally noted to set aside the money to replace it once the RK900 was out of his life for good.

Placing its hands flat to his chest, it pushed him back, shifting to lay on top of him and rest its head over his heart, glancing at the TV to turn it on. Gavin tried to relax, but his heart raced, deciding to test the affection aspect for himself by tentatively reaching to touch its hair and pausing to appreciate the soft texture of it. The thing didn’t sweat, so it’d never have to wash, dry or cut it. It always looked properly well-groomed, so it made sense why it was so insistent on such a thing. Sometimes it felt like living with a pretentious rich person, but he mentally noted another reminder to be grateful, as it had told him to do so many times before. There was nothing to complain about when his life was on track, his coworkers took him seriously, his job was going well and the bills were paid, but he wished he wasn’t afraid to come back to his own home because of an element he could do nothing to help – even when he’d tried, he quickly learned never to do that again, ultimately backing him further into his own corner of fear. Yesterday was definitely one he’d remember for the rest of his life, and he certainly regretted it. Regretted that it didn’t go through and the android was waiting for him at home instead of sent back to Cyberlife, or better, left as scrap metal in the junkyard dumps.

“Can we fuck?” It blinked, glancing up in the direction of his face.

“You want that?” Pausing as it acknowledged his racing heartbeat, it glanced down at his chest and ran its hand over it with the tone of its synthetic, pale skin washing away while it did a quick analysis. Disturbed to the see the plastic, Gavin gave the appendage a strange glare.

“Nevermind,” he redecided, suddenly feeling repulsed by the android all over again.

“Your blood sugar is low. I’ll order dinner now,” it stated, and he blinked with surprise.

“Thanks,” he muttered barely loud enough for its microphones to pick up. Sighing, he shifted, feeling uncomfortable being pinned beneath the android’s weight. Restless, a hand maneuvered to reach around its shoulders as he attempted to see if it made him feel any better. It didn’t. He wanted to puke.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ll be replaced in a week,” it stated seemingly out of the blue, causing him to freeze as he heard the words but didn’t immediately register the information.

“A week?” he repeated.

“Like, next Tuesday?”

“Yes. Like next Tuesday,” it parroted with only a hint of snark in its voice. The idea seemed surreal. The calendar in his head didn’t matter; only that it was going to be the longest week he had yet, he imagined. Unsure what to say, he felt the need to leave the couch, compelled to get up and move but unable to escape his position.

“How do you feel about it?” It was an oddly humane question, but Gavin was legitimately curious if RK900 had any particular persuasion one way or another.

“I don’t,” it stated simply. Gavin didn’t immediately accept the sentiment considering 900 now had emotions, but also believed it considering how stoic the android was by nature.

“Then it’ll be an easy transition, right?”

“Easy for me,” it responded knowingly. Gavin didn’t like the apprehension it left in the air, knowing the statement was pointed at him in a future depiction of how hard it was going to be to let the android go, whether he liked it or not.

“I’ll be fine,” he said with more confidence than he actually had.

“I don’t want you to fail,” it said in a voice with boldness that told him it was being honest.

“Why not? What do you care?” He watched his words halfway, gauging where the RK900’s mood was at by the tension on its facial expression, which was relatively calm for now as long as he didn’t push its buttons.

“Do you think I want all of the time we’ve spent together to go to waste? Please. I have created something incredible and who wants their accomplishments to fall apart as soon as they’re gone?” Gavin narrowed his eyes at being called an accomplishment, but didn’t comment.

“Don’t you want something out of all this?” Gavin peered at it skeptically, but it held a rather innocently confused expression.

“What in the world would I want from you?”

“Anything that would be useful to you, I guess,” he half-snapped with a mocking tinge to his voice; enough to catch the android’s attention without getting scolded. He’d found the orange zone and seemed content staying there.

“What would be most useful to me is what would best benefit Cyberlife, and that’s you continuing to work hard and behave well. Ultimately, that’s all I could ‘desire’ from you.” Gavin closed his eyes, taking in the information as he questioned himself as to why he’d expect any other answer.

-

He felt its fingertips on his face, even when he woke up and it wasn’t nearby.

“Don’t you wish I could stay?” He’d been unable to tell it was a dream at the time, considering his mind never cared to differentiate while he was unconscious.

“You’ll be useless without me. You know you will.” The voice was crisp to his ears, almost as vibrant as the visage itself; Nines standing with the sunset behind it, casting its form in a silhouette, on the beach of the Salt Lakes with that usual, tender gaze in its eyes as it opened its arms, offering him somewhere to go. Somewhere warm, safe. Somewhere he was supposed to trust.

“You’re nothing without me.” It’s words became threatening, and its gaze grew dark. In real life, he’d have expected nothing different; in the scape of his dreams, he was confused, bewildered, terrified.

“You won’t survive once I’m gone.” Why? What was the use of repeating itself? The fact it told him not to use you statements yet constantly accused him never left his mind, but it was an immature, childish thought in favor of something much more complex. The way RK900 smothered him in double-standards and split-second attitude changes was confusing and frustrating, alongside terrifying, leaving his psyche twirling in the enigma day after day.

He attacked it. It attacked back. It didn’t stop attacking, but he started listening, and it somewhat ceased. What did this mean?

“Won’t you miss me?”

He still felt the tender touch of its hands when he woke up, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling with an offending gaze as if it were the one to plunge him back into this twisted reality versus the one his own mind had constructed. At the time being, he wasn’t sure which was worse.

It left him in a tired daze all day, having not collected enough REM sleep from the night terrors and sweating fits, tossing and turning between memory and imagination alone creating a collage that was his thoughts and feelings over the RK900 that he didn’t understand.

Maybe that was scariest of all; the way it didn’t make any sense, and as soon as Gavin thought he had an idea of what it was thinking or doing, it seemed to change its mind in the blink of his eye. Was it designed to do that? Or was he a particular exception? Should he have spoken up about it sooner?

No, no, no. It was too late now. Nothing had been done, and it was only a matter of time to wait until something else came along. Hopefully something better – and not worse.

Gavin thought back to their first days together, when the android was but a stranger, an annoyance on the team as it corrected his sentences and proved him wrong at every turn. Then, it was covered in android blood. Then it was gone. Then it was back. Then he’d done something unforgivable. Then he was being tossed around his own home like a ragdoll, being ripped apart by the seams as RK900 tore into him with literal nails and metaphorical teeth.

It didn’t stop. Watching him, following him, demanding him, shocking him, hitting him. Every day, every hour. Every minute, maybe each passing second. He wasn’t sure, but it definitely felt like it.

-

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed as he swatted its hand away without meaning to; he hadn’t thought twice about it, still in a simply instinctive state of mind, as he often was when he’d just woken. The RK900 lifted its eyebrows, deciding to let Gavin determine his own wrongdoings rather than speak for him. It was growing used to these routinely slip-ups, and Gavin smacking his palm to his face showed he’d already regretted it without it demanding for another change in his behavior.

“Sorry,” he murmured. It accepted, appearing placated.

“I hate waking up,” he murmured, mostly to himself as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“What do you dread about it?” Its voice was simply curious, which he appreciated for the pure sake of the fact it wasn’t already angry at him.

“Uh, everything,” he spat, yawning and shivering, pulling the blanket around himself again—ever since the 900 had him start sleeping in less to no clothes, he’d woken up freezing. Offering no sympathy, it ripped away the bedding and smacked him on the back – right over its own graciously-indented scar – and shoved him forth to force him off the bed.

“I didn’t make your first cup of coffee this morning,” it said unprompted. This time Gavin flashed it a downright glare, squinting with narrowed eyelids under shadowed eyebrows as irritation increased the redness in his sclera; he looked exhausted.

“I think you’ll do fine without it.” Gavin didn’t care enough about the coffee anymore, dismissing it for the fact he was meagerly grateful it didn’t want to beat him up over something.

“Oh yeah, orange juice,” he murmured.

“It’s a weekend… I get caffeine on the weekends,” he reconsidered, feeling like a punished preteen as he glanced at his own closed door, thinking about the kitchen in that general direction.

“Not anymore.” Gavin closed his eyes. Sighing prevented him from feeding into the anger and doing something stupid, so he collected a few more deep breaths.

“Can I have a chai tea?”

“Definitely,” it stated as if it were but a simple request, standing from the bed to make way out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

Grateful to have a moment to himself, Gavin closed his eyes and threshed back against the mattress, allowing himself to bury his face into the pillow and sink chest-down into the blankets and let out a tired groan before he tried to drift back into sleep, blanketed with lethargy.

-

“What would you like for lunch?” Gavin paused at the question, but couldn’t think about the answer.

“When you’re not here am I supposed to be allowed to order my own shit again?” Slightly snarky, a bit sarcastic, with laughter at the end; in the past, it would have gotten him hit, but RK900 granted him some wriggle room over time, as he’d shown he could behave otherwise. A stark irony, in his mind, but if it let him show a bit of his personality a bit more than it had been, he couldn’t exactly complain.

“Yes,” it stated simply. Clearing his throat, he shifted so he wouldn’t scratch his hair by habit, despite being in sweats on a weekend – 900 would catch the motion nonetheless, so he dismissed it.

“You set me up for failure,” he said flatly, only recognizing the assumption as it fell from his lips; but this time, he didn’t respond.

“I should smack you for being so ungrateful,” it said with snide, snarling towards him at a downcast angle, yet remained physically distant for the time being.

“Don’t turn this against me, detective Reed. You’ve had the ability to order, make and cook your own food this entire time, well before I arrived into your life.” Folding his arms, Gavin pouted, glancing off to one side as he wondered who was really right, but didn’t argue.

-

“What if I extinguished your life before mine was dismissed?”

There was a particular darkness within Gavin that he didn’t often show, and he wasn’t about to explain his game plan to an android trying to play mind tricks with him. This was the last time.

“What if?” Gavin’s eyebrows raised in tune with flaring nostrils, gray eyes meeting silver in a strikingly fearless way. It told the android he was feeling particularly brave, for better or worse, and its facial expressions signaled to him that there was, indeed, fear within it over the idea of being replaced and extinguished.

“Here’s your chance.” Gavin’s words were nonchalant, and thus all the more provoking.

“But tell me, first,” he commanded with a sarcastically nigh on friendly tone to his voice, “why you wanna kill me so bad?” As if surprised by the question, it blinked a few times, causing Gavin to scoff in response as he mocked the fact it took this long to consider such a thing.

“Why did you want to kill me so badly?” Its words were striking, and his body ran stiff, skin turning pale.

“I don’t know,” he spit back immediately, an identifier of honesty. With its internal drive to locate a certain answer, the response struck the android with offensive surprise, leaving it to stare at him with a glare of impossibility.

Gavin waited for it to ask another question while it anticipated his next inquiry. Lips twitching, he took it upon himself to say something before he could give up the chance of being antagonized again.

In this moment, it felt a twitch in its arms with a prompt that insisted Gavin would listen better if he were in a more comfortable position mentally, and by extension, physical comfort might help as well. Hands on his shoulders, the idea he might refuse its touch based on the fact it was potentially dangerous went entirely dismissed.

“What do you remember?” Gavin was statuesque in his place, eyes glossing over as he stared ahead and revisited that night.

“Hitting you. Punching. Anger.” None of it was a surprise to him, and the android wasn’t terribly moved by his words.

“After that?” It knew he didn’t want to revisit that night, and the cold realization left him at a loss for words. The strong tone in its voice struck the deeply embedded memories like a cord, vibrating to the front of his mind from the darkness of his hazy subconscious. All at once, in bright flashes, there was the morbid sight of the scene he’d created; bullet holes, knife gashes, eyeless sockets and displaced facial plates. A mess of liquid thirium. Instinct made him cringe, but his consciousness brought him back to the present, letting him open his eyes even if he couldn’t look directly into the android’s.

“More anger.” He stated it as if it were fact, monotone and bold, telling the fact both to the 900 as well as himself. Anger. That was all it took to ruin his life, and this wasn’t the first time he’d faced dangerous consequences, mentally cursing himself in spite of the irony.

“What else?”

Gavin swallowed.

“Your voice. You told me something.” The way it sounded less human as the moments passed that night still haunted his mind in split-second intervals. It was eerie and downright awful, the high pitch of the autotune grating on eardrum and microphone alike, leaving him with a ring that resonated in his ears long after its ‘last words’ to him.

It never stopped speaking. In his head it might have been the worst part; the way it berated him, scolded him, praised him, mocked him, taunted him, fundamentally challenged him or simply whispered sweet nothings into his ears, the sound was stuck in his mind.

The way its speaker distorted, however, he’d never forget. The particular tone in its voice even as he stepped on it over and over again still struck him in his nightmares, and the robot autotune when it assured it would haunt him was nothing but a grain of salt in the wound that was his current situation.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Gavin rubbed his forehead with a disgruntled noise.

“Something about…not winning… I don’t know. I was angry, or something.”

“You’re angry no matter what,” it reminded him. Gavin threw it a glare, wearing an expression that made him look dumber than he really was.

“Right,” he admitted out of complete loss. Nines scrunched its nose with a glance of distaste in his direction, wondering if he really didn’t take anything it had said into account.

“I was dying beneath your feet, at your own hands, and you don’t even remember what I told  you?” It knew it would tip him, and that was exactly what it was searching for; the way his eyes flashed wide, immediately struck with rage as frustration dug into his psyche first and foremost.

“Oh don’t talk like that you—” For the first time, he smacked his hand to his mouth to stop from talking as he caught himself right in the middle of the act. RK900 looked unamused.

“No, you know, I mean, I don’t know what was going on but it’s not like that, okay?” Neither of them had any idea what he meant.

“Yes it was,” 900 retorted nonetheless.

“I don’t remember,” Gavin said swiftly in hopes for a cop-out.

“Yes you do,” it stated again.

“You just weren’t listening.” Shutting his mouth, he dropped his expression and squared his shoulders, appeasing the android at least slightly.

“You’re not a swift learner, are you?” Gavin’s eyebrow twitched, but that was all.

“Anyway, the point is moot. You didn’t gain anything in your endeavor, and I was still right. What happened will scare you until your dying day, if you let it,” it stated, flattening the front of its jacket in a moment of idling. Gavin said nothing.

“You’re still angry, aren’t you?”

“Livid,” he said sharply enough to guarantee the sincerity in his words.

“At what? Me? Yourself?” There was a nearly playful tone to its voice as it tilted its head with a gaze much too innocent for its general demeanor. Gavin did his best to ignore how unsettling it was.

“Yeah,” he said, lacking any other explanation. Looking nonplussed, 900 sighed.

“You don’t even know what you’re upset about,” it told him in a voice that held mock disappointment. He blinked, raising his eyebrows with a dumbfounded gaze.

“Everything,” Gavin murmured, but sharply enough he wanted it to be obvious.

“As you know,” he added. Closing its eyes, it was its turn to nodd once in acceptance.

“Indeed. So leads to the aspect of your life I may never be able to change. Though I am pleased with how I’ve affected your frustration and responses to such, I can’t get rid of it and nothing will stop you if you start a downward spiral after I am gone.” Lost in its wisdom, Gavin thought through all the years and revisited the frustrations he’d had over his lifetime, from being strictly disciplined at a young age to how badly he wanted to shove a cocked gun down the throat of a particular co-worker or three he’d particularly had it out for. How he fought to get decent scores since gradeschool, the way fellow peers glared him down once word had spread he was gay, the many times he’d shot himself in the foot that constantly seemed stuck in his mouth. Every exhausted night trying to sleep scrunched together in a sudden blur, every police file, piece of paperwork, bad word someone on the street had told him or the way they looked at him the wrong way. Staring was a big one, and one he never cared to share, but 900 knew or it wouldn’t glare him so deeply in the eyes for minutes on end the way it did.

Every fear reawakened, from the idea of maggots eating his corpse to the glistening blue-black wiring beneath the android’s skin he was so keenly aware of at all times.

“What do you know about anger, Gavin?”

“It masks fear,” he responded as if it were basic textbook knowledge, unmoving from his posture.

“And what do you know about fear?”

“I have a lot of it.” The wry laugh it exhaled seemed to climb up his spine with a billion tiny prickling hairs.

“What else?”

“That I shouldn’t take it out on others.”

“Good,” it chimed with a pleased smile, opening its eyes as if to gift him with its rewarding expression.

“What are you going to do when I’m gone?”

“Utilize what I have at home.” Gavin couldn’t deny how helpful it was to have a punching bag and workout equipment in the garage.

“And when a co-worker does something you dislike?” Being talked to like a child was beginning to get on his nerves, and it showed in his souring expression.

“I will neglect to acknowledge the event happened,” he responded, trying to expand his vocabulary usage in the process.

“Good,” it praised with another affirmative nod.

“And when all hope seems lost?” Gavin blinked in confusion, aware it surely knew it hadn’t left him with instructions for that. Gavin stared at it with a gaze that asked the question he was too afraid to.

“Well, I wish I could say rely on your instincts, but that doesn’t prove very effective for you,” it elaborated with a soft sigh.

“Stick to what you know. Arguing isn’t worth it. Don’t complain, do something. Above all else, don’t fail.” Fail what, he wasn’t sure, deciding it was a generalizing phrase and accepted it to mean everything. He dipped his chin for a bow of acceptance.

“And no more caffeine,” it quipped. He winced at the thought, but nodded.

[vantemei]

yoongi thinks of a million things. a million things he could have said to taehyung over the years. dropped hints, tried a pick up line, anything to have let the younger know just how much he loved him. maybe they wouldn't be where they are today, with taehyung hunched over the toilet heaving his heart out in the form of crimson stained petals.

maybe instead they would be sitting on their old leather couch cuddled together happily and taehyung would love him back. that's the hopeful part of him though. the selfish part of him thinks maybe taehyung would have left, would have rejected him and left to avoid him and his feelings and yoongi would have been able to get over his foolish unrequited love and he would be sitting in a cafe somewhere reading a book or relaxing with some coffee and not feeling like his heart is being slowly crushed in his chest with every thick, splattering heave taehyung gives.

but no, the reality is that yoongi's knees are bruised from the amount of times he's woken in the too-early morning to find taehyung heaving into the porcelain bowl and fallen to his knees next to him to rub his back and hold him as he shakes and screams and cries against yoongi's chest. 

yoongi tried to tell him about the surgery, about the ways to be cured, about the surgery and it's success rate but they both knew, ever since that first day, the day yoongi saw that first fully bloomed flower, that it was far too late.

yoongi had broken down one night almost a month ago, only days after he found out about the petals. he had come home from work exhausted and found taehyung standing in their kitchen listening to a song that was so recognizable that it hurt. title track of the first full album namjoon ever released when he was still with taehyung. title track 4 o'clock.

taehyung sings along with his parts and sways gently to the sound of namjoon's voice. taehyung is thinner that he was before yoongi found out, noticeably so. his throat has been so sore recently that he can't keep much solid food down at all. the most he can even manage these days without a gut wrenching flood of petals erupting like a flow of the most beautiful magma is a smoothie and sometimes berries or fruits. 

as yoongi watched taehyung sway, eyes shut and head tilted back in the sun streaming through their kitchen window, usual healthy golden skin dull and pale despite the sun and his soft hair now straw like and messy, his voice scratchy with nights spent crying and screaming and heaving, he broke. yoongi finally broke.

his knees hit the floor with a crack more wood than bone and his hands, shaking and clammy as they grasped desperately at the too-large shirt that hung off taehyung's willowy frame, and he begged. 

tears fell faster and thicker than they had ever in his life and drool trailed from his bottom lip as he nestled his face into taehyung's rapidly vanishing tummy with a fevered desperation, begging him through tears and sobs and hacking coughs that shook his whole body like the rumble of en earthquake, breaking his world into pieces in a sudden shock wave. he begged him to go to namjoon, begged him to beg, to do anything to be loved back. 

he told him that he loved him. he loves him so much, he's been in love with him for so long please please please just TRY!

taehyung smiled at him, eyes fluttering open and head tilting down so yoongi could finally see the glistening of silent tears on his cheeks and the bloody bitten tint of his chapped lips, and he trailed one hand over yoongi's cheek, brushing the hair back from his eyes as yoongi leaned into his touch like a man desperate for the touch of an unearthly being. that's what taehyung had always been to him. a strange boy from a place yoongi would never understand who believed in childish things like true love.

taehyung looked into his eyes without pity, without mercy or fear, and he told him i know.

that's when yoongi finally understood. he finally understood why taehyung never denied him anything, affection, skinship, time, he always gave yoongi everything he wanted. he finally understood the way taehyung looked at him all these years, finally understood why taehyung hadn't tried to fight more for namjoon, why he hadn't gone to the doctor, why he hadn't told yoongi.

because daisies aren't namjoon's favorite flower, they're taehyung's. they have been since he was twelve and yoongi had given one to him pressed between the pages of a book, the same book that taehyung keeps on the bookshelf in his room.

because taehyung always told all of his friends he loves them, always made sure they knew. he always made sure namjoon knew he was in love with him. because taehyung always told yoongi that you can have as many true loves as you want and that it doesn't have to be romantic. 

true love can be when your mother tells you to bring a jacket with you so you won't be cold. true love can be when your best friend lets you play with their favorite toy. true love can be when your dog runs to greet you after you've been gone for barely an hour; when your cat brings you a weird wrapper and buts you with their head. 

it can be when a lover asks how your day has been even if they spent the whole day with you just because they want to hear about anything they may have missed. true love can be loving someone so much that no matter who you're in love with, no matter who loves you, you make time for them and go to them when you're happy or when you're hurt. 

when you give them your heart and trust them to look after it and take their hand and they trust you to look after them. true love can be teaching someone what love is and loving them so much that flowers blossom in your lungs but not letting them know because you know that love can be different and that sometimes loves don't match up.  

yoongi had finally understood and taehyung had brushed his tears away and told him it's ok.

and now yoongi is sitting with taehyung and letting his tears fall loudly and painfully, too broken to hold them back as taehyung claws at his throat with desperate fingers. a particularly loud and painful cough and taehyung's hand smacking yoongi's arm tells him something new.

taehyung looks at him with terrified glassy eyes and pounds at his own chest, something green resting on his tongue as he hacks dryly. the flower is stuck in his throat. yoongi does the only thing he can think of, reaches for taehyung's lips and shoves his fingers past them as far as he can, apologizing and shaking with sobs as he tries to get a grip on the blood and saliva slick stem.

taehyung's eyes are clenched shut and sobs force their way out of his body as he gags around yoongi's fingers. finally yoongi get's a solid grip and he pulls up and out, one hand grabbing taehyung's neck to tilt it back and try and keep him still, begging sorry's as he pulls the plant as quickly as he can. connected in a small tangle of roots comes wet and slick with blood clots four fully formed daisy flowers and yoongi holds them, stares at them as taehyung heaves bloody bile into the toilet.

hours pass as the sun goes down and taehyung lies on his side, yoongi holding him against his chest and petting his hair as taehyung nuzzles into his chest. the flowers sit in the bathroom trash bin and they have another one next to the bed in case taehyung can't make it to the bathroom.

it's a quiet night with only the sounds of the city to break the silence, at least until taehyung's broken and horse voice, barely more than an unintelligible whisper after the trauma earlier, asks yoongi to sing for him.

yoongi's never been one praised for his singing voice, his talents lie in rapping, but the words of some chet baker cover taehyung likes so much come to him easily and what can he do but his best for the boy he loves.

time passes like that and even when taehyung slips from consciousness yoongi keeps singing, repeating the song over and over to keep the tears on his cheeks silent.

time doesn't feel real anymore but the clock on the wall displays 02:25 when taehyung stirrs in yoongi's arms, body wracking in a way painfully familiar over the last couple of months. yoongi helps him roll over and slips over the floor as he throws himself out of the bed, grabbing the bin to hold it for taehyung who hacks only a few slick petals into it before falling back to catch his breath, his chest rising even shallower than it did yesterday.

they sit in silence for a few minutes. yoongi brings him water and taehyung gratefully accepts it with the ghost of a tired smile on his face.

it's when yoongi is going to go refill it when taehyung speaks up, voice only slightly better than earlier.

"i'm dying."

yoongi freezes in place and looks over at taehyung, eyes shaking. the words i know rest on the tip of his tongue but he bites them back as taehyung shakes his head.

"i'm dying tonight yoongi. i can feel it."

yoongi chokes on the air that leaves his lungs all at once and this time the thud is the cup hitting the carpeted floor and rolling somewhere out of sight.

"it's ok, yoongi. i'm ready."

yoongi has finally found his voice.

"what do you mean you're ready?! how can you be ready?! how can you-!" it's not even strong enough to be a sob; it's a whimper that cuts yoongi off and it takes a moment for him to realize he made it.

taehyung holds his arms open and yoongi falls into him, let's the bed bounce beneath the sudden weight as he's the one curling into taehyung's chest now, crying and holding him as close as he can. taehyung doesn't shed a tear, just gives him that same smile, yoongi's smile, and tells him that it's ok. that he'll be ok.

yoongi's runs out of tears after a while, too many shed in the past months that he can barely muster up the ten minutes and it leaves him with a crushing coldness in his chest that just feels empty.

"i can't watch. taehyungie i can't watch, please..."

"i know, i know yoongi. it's ok. i'll be ok. just...sing to me? one more time?"

what can yoongi do but his best...for the boy who loves him.

twice through the song and taehyung is asleep and yoongi leaves the bedside lamp on and a glass of water next to the bed before he shuts the door. he makes it to his own room before his legs give out and he smothers his face into a pillow to muffle his screaming cries. he sits there for a couple of hours, not moving even a bit as he stares emptily into the darkness.

the clock reads 03:56 when the choking sounds start. from the room just a thin wall away he can hear even the rustling of the sheets as the person in them jerks wildly, clawing against them for some kind of reprieve and he hears a crash, glass breaking from being knocked down.

yoongi's body gives him no warning before he's heaving bile onto the floor in front of him, body lurching with force as he wretches sorrow onto his white carpet. the choking sounds get worse and then starts muffled screaming, broken with coughs and crackling sobs and yoongi can't take it. he wipes his face the edge of his blanket and trips to his feet, wrenching open his door and slamming taehyung's open.

he freezes in the threshhold for a moment, eyes wide and fear plunging his heart to his feet. he physically swallows back a new wave of bile and rushes to the bed, grabbing taehyung's flailing arms and holding them down. he calls his name, trying so desperately to pull him back from mindless pain.

when taehyung's eyes blink open yoongi can't help the cry that leaves his lips. fear, so visceral and raw looks back at him, taehyung can barely even recognize yoongi through his pain and it shakes his hands and his lungs with something electric and indescribable.

it's not ok it's not ok it's not ok it's not ok it's not ok its not ok its not ok he's scared he's scared he's scared it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts why why  why why why why why why why

yoongi doesn't know what to do what can he do what is he supposed to do what does he do what can he do

he's dying. yoongi loves him and he's dying.

yoongi vomits over the side of the bed again and can't stop the gut reaction to wrench his self away from taehyung who trails blood down his cheeks. it's bubbles on his lips and his eyes are rolled back and bloodshot, veins standing out on his neck and cheeks paler than yoongi's ever seen them. 

yoongi's body shakes and trembles and he can't feel anything but something sharp in hiss chest. his eyes are so wide it feels like the might pop out from his skull and it feels like his body is tightening around him, like the walls of a room closing in on him.

yoongi can't hear anything but the blood rushing through his ears and his own panting breaths but he does finally notice that the shaking of the bed has stopped. his entire body shakes as he lifts his head, nothing inside of him but cold and pain.

taehyung's body faces the ceiling, his eyes wide open and glazed over with emptiness. blood trails from the corners of his lips and his nose and tears still glisten wet on his cheeks. his right arm is resting over his chest, hand loosely clenched in his shirt, and his left is extended, fingers reaching for where yoongi disappeared over the side of the bed.

yoongi heaves but there's nothing left to come up so he's left convulsing on the floor, screams parting his lips cut off only by the breath taking tremors that wrack his body, eyes wide and unseeing of anything but the terrified look on taehyung's face imprinted on his eyelids as he scrambles away from the bed.

yoongi was 24 years old when he finally understood what true love is.