#double cliche where person a is awake

[earthtooz]

itoshi rin but as that cliche where person b confesses to person a but whilst they're asleep bc they can't help it anymore and it's just like a 'fuck it, we ball moment', yet it's the most painstaking, most heartwrenching, most beautiful and authentic confession ever.

[shinuko]

to be human (is to make mistakes)

#: academic rivals au (!!), rank 1!gojo & rank 2 gn!reader, assumed college au (irrelevant ranking system), gojo gets kind of sick (unrealistic + very cliche), a dash of angst (for the flavor!!), implied (obvious) pining (mutual? ;3), brief one bed trope! (sfw), no beta we die like ...yeah (i'm sorry)

wc: 2.1k

tw/cw: reader has a hairdryer and clothes that fit a ~190cm man, angst (kind of?), reader likes floral tea, one (1) curse word

*ni-i = 2nd rank/place (please feel free to correct me if i have it wrong in any way ;-;)

you jolted, the clap of thunder scaring you awake. in the gray area between awake and asleep, you thought you heard a knock on the door, but you weren’t expecting anything so you figured it was a trick of the wind of some kind. you checked the time—2:57 am—you definitely weren’t expecting anyone either too. looking down at your desk, you sighed and your nose crinkled at the spot of drool that pooled on the page of your notes. you wiped at it with your finger when there was a sudden knock at your door. 

you froze.

a beat passed. then two.

quietly, you rose from your chair, grabbing your phone and the nearest object that looked like it could be useful (a swiffer). tiptoeing across to the door, your thumb hovered over the dial button, prepared to call the campus police (though the night ra would have been more realistic). you peeked through the peephole and saw a hunched figure wearing a hood that covered their eyes. you stepped away from the door, waiting to see if they would leave without any intervention.

three beats passed. then four.

 “ni-i…”

the voice was weak but you still heard it. (and you knew of only one person who had the gall to call you by your rank.) dropping the swiffer, you opened the door and gojo stumbled into your arms, skin hot to the touch and breaths labored against the curve of your neck. his hair clung to his forehead, dripping water onto your clothes and floor. you struggled to keep yourself up straight, so you helped him to sit on the floor, his head leaning against the wall. 

you stood again, staring in disbelief at your… guest. 

raising his head, he looked around, taking in his surroundings, and cocked his eyebrows at you teasingly, “so… you trying to beat me this time around, ni-i?” he tried to make a joke, seemingly regaining some of his strength now that he was out of the rain.

you cringed, heat rising to your face as you remembered that the evidence of your desperate studying was within his line of sight. “that’s not important right now. what are you doing here!?” you hissed, trying to change the subject, “and what kind of idiot do you have to be to be walking in a storm with a thin jacket!?”

gojo just smiled, closing his eyes, and mumbled something about locking himself out of his room and not knowing where else to go. you remembered hearing something about how his roommate was going to be out of the country for a few more days at least. huffing, you threw him a towel and rummaged through your closet for your hair dryer. “here,” you said, handing the hair dryer to him, “bathroom’s the door over there. i don’t have any clothes for you so just dry your clothes with this.” surprisingly, he complied easily, rising slowly from his spot on the floor and shuffled to the bathroom. only when the door closed shut behind him did you pull at your hair and scream as silently as you could. 

“oh, mind if i use your shower by the way?” gojo’s voice came muffled from the other side of the door. 

your eye twitched. “…be quick.” 

“thanks~!”

wanting to kill time and keep yourself distracted, you decided to boil water for some tea. gojo came out from the bathroom smelling like your shampoo as the kettle began to boil. 

you did a double take. 

gojo came out of the bathroom, smelling like your shampoo and holding a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. 

“why are you only wearing a towel?!” you screeched, cheeks blazing as you rushed to your closet and threw him whatever clothes you could find. 

“my clothes took too long to dry,” he whined, grinning as he caught the clothes against his chest with his other hand, “and look, you do have clothes for me~”

“just hurry up and put that on! and don’t you dare drop that towel in front of me!” you quickly turned around, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering apologies and prayers to anyone out there who would listen. 

“okay, i’m done now…” you could hear the pout in his voice and you swore you saw red. almost at least. by some miraculous event, you regained your senses and composed yourself. exhaling slowly, you reached for the two cups and handed one to him. he stared at you, “it’s 4 am.”

“it’s 3:47. and you won’t die, it’s just tea.”

he shrugged, accepting the cup, and took a careful sip. his eyes widened at the taste and he took another sip. “hey, this is good,” he said, raising the cup to his lips again, “why didn’t you give me this the last time i was here for the language arts project? first you’re trying to beat me, and now you’re holding out on me? i’m hurt, ni-i…”

“didn’t have it then.” you rolled your eyes and took a sip yourself, deeply inhaling the fragrance of it, and couldn’t fight the small smile it brought to your face—floral tea, your favorite, and so it seems was his too. holding the cup with two hands, you looked out the window, following the droplets of rain as they raced each other down the glass. 

five beats passed. then six.

“want me to help you study for the exam?”

you raised an eyebrow at him, “confident you won’t lose your rank to me even after teaching me your secrets?”

he laughed, throwing his head back, and set the cup down. “please, you’re taking my GPA too lightly. you’re gonna need more than that to take me down.”

you shrugged, bringing your books and notes over to the spot on the floor where he sat. he scooted to sit next to you and skimmed your notes. as he flipped through the pages, you looked back at the practice problem you were trying to solve before, tapping the end of your pencil against your chin. 

“1.15 N.”

“huh?” 

“that’s what you’re looking for, right? the tension? i recognize that question. it’s from the practice midterm, what was it… question number 2?”

looking between him and the page in front of you, you weren’t sure what to think. “how… how did you do that?”

gojo smiled again, “here look, there’s the given free body and if you draw two more for the block and pulley…” he paused and looked around for a pencil. without thinking, you give him the one you were holding. “thanks. so yeah, draw two more and then you can apply the 2nd law here.” quickly, he wrote down more steps to the problem. “so applied force minus the tension force equals the 2nd law, does that make sense?” 

you started to nod, the lightbulb going off in your head, “and then because only the tension force will affect torque, i can use the torque equals r times force equation? and then equal it to the moment of inertia multiplied by angular acceleration to find the acceleration?”

“bingo,” gojo said with a grin, handing you the pencil, “as expected of my rank 2.”

too preoccupied with finishing the problem, you didn’t hear him. making quick work of the rest of the practice exam, you beamed triumphantly. your victory was fleeting though, interrupted by a violent sneeze from gojo. instinctively, you placed the back of your hand against his forehead and the other on your own to compare.

“idiot, you’re burning up! why didn’t you say something?”

“the tea helped so i thought it was fine…” 

“it’s obviously not fine… get up.” you pulled him up by the arm and hesitated in front of your bed. gojo at least had the decency to blush.

“shouldn’t you ask me to dinner first… i didn’t know you were so quick about things, ni-i.”

the heat scorched your cheeks as you quickly let go of his arm, panicking and tripping over your words to salvage your dignity. but he stumbled, lost his footing, and fell face-first onto the mattress. with a bit of struggling, you finally managed to push him under the covers and tuck him in. 

you couldn’t deny that he looked cute like this: cheeks and the tip of his nose tinged pink, peeking out from under the blankets, and bangs brushed back with his forehead bare, allowing you to place a cool towel there. you watched his long eyelashes flutter as he closed his eyes, the lull of sleep relaxing his features and pulling him under. the rise and fall of his chest began to steady and you laid the back of your hand against his cheek again to check his fever. 

still warm. 

you stood up, trying to remember where you kept your medicines.

“where are you going?”

“to find some fever reducer for you…” you blinked in surprise, “weren’t you sleeping?”

“no. i don’t need any.”

“don’t be ridiculous. gojo, you nee-”

“can’t you call me satoru now?” he whined.

“gojo, you’re delirious. you need to-”

“satoru,” he corrected, “please.”

seven beats passed. then eight.

gojo was fully sitting up on your bed now, towel fallen onto his lap, and his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. his cheeks were redder now, but you couldn’t tell if it was from his fever or embarrassment. you exhaled slowly, returning to the bedside and looked at him expectantly. gojo shifted, making room for you. 

you could feel his gaze on you as you fiddled with the cloth of your covers. “tomorrow. after we’ve gotten some sleep, ask me again.”

“what?”

turning to face him, you forced yourself to maintain eye contact (his eyes are so blue). “tomorrow,” you repeated, “ask me again tomorrow. let’s not do something we’ll regret right now.”

“i don’t think i could ever regret you.” 

you faltered and slid off of the bed, trying to create some physical space between you and him, “you don’t mean that. you’ve been up all night. you don’t know what you’re saying. you-” your voice caught in your throat. the pained expression on gojo’s face awoke an emotion you never knew you had, clawing at your heart and ratting at the bones of your rib cage like a trapped beast. his eyes dimmed and lips turned down ever so subtly. but you saw. gojo looked down at his hands and you wished you knew what he was thinking. the silence was thick and suffocating and you wanted to do anything to break it. you opened your mouth to speak again, to apologize, to do something, anything. 

“oh, look at that! suguru’s back already!” gojo beamed, tapping away at his phone.

(his smile looked too forced.)

but all you could do was nod as gojo got out of your bed, fixing the pillows and blankets as best as he could. you watched as he hummed, gluing his eyes purposely to his phone (was he avoiding your eyes?), and continued to your door. he turned back to look at you. his eyes softened and he gave you another smile.

sorry, he mouthed to you before opening the door and walking out. 

the door closed shut behind him, leaving you alone again. (you could hear him yelp “shit, it’s still raining!” through the door and could picture him running through the rain with nothing but his jacket as any sort of defense. that got you giggling a little.)

nine beats passed. then ten.

you sat down on your bed, legs dangling off the edge, before letting your head fall back and hit your pillow. 

it smelled like him still. the smell was faint, of course, but there nonetheless. you chased it, initially unaware, searching for it. yearning—

no. 

you turned the other way and closed your eyes. 

the sun was blinding, glaring at you through the glass windows. dust particles floated about and large, messy words written in chalk spelled out “EXAM SIT IN YOUR ASSIGNED SEATS” on the blackboard and bore menacingly at no one. 

you sat at your desk, glancing at gojo’s still empty seat. thoughts of him from that night continued to plague your mind. you shook your head, trying to bring your thoughts back to your exam that was going to happen any minute now. F = ma. torque equals radius times applied force which also equals moment of inertia times angular acceleration. vaguely, you heard the back door of the classroom open, and whispers filled the room, gradually getting louder. a collective gasp and more excited (and jealous) whispers as your classmates murmured amongst themselves. a shadow loomed over you, and you looked up. they couldn’t believe their eyes, and honestly you couldn’t either. gojo peered down at you, his hand outstretched, and flashed you his charming smile.

“hey, i’m gojo satoru, but you can call me satoru,” he grinned, “wanna be friends?”

koi's notes: inspired by a gojo fanart i came across by the extremely talented @saterise (i meant it to be like a little rainy inspired fic but i got a little too carried away...)

link to fanart also here: https://www.tumblr.com/saterise/739526714812678144/to-be-human-is-to-feel-the-rain-on-your-skin?source=share

ALSO BEFORE ANYONE ASKS, gojo and geto are tied for rank 1 because there is no way in HELL i'm making geto 3rd i will not disrespect him like that!!!!!

[lunapaper]

Album Review: 'Midnights' - Taylor Swift

What keeps Taylor Swift up at night? 

A lot, apparently: Past lovers. Romantic nostalgia. Old enemies. Made-up scenarios where her future daughter-in-law kills her for her fortune. 

Or as Taylor herself puts it: ‘[A] momentary glimmer of distraction. The tiniest notion of reminiscent thought that wanders off into wondering, the spark that lights a tinderbox of fixation. And now, it is irreversible. The flame has caught. You’re wide awake.’ 

Shrugging off her cardigan, Swift teams up once again with Jack Antonoff to turn her late night ruminations into yet another surprise release entitled Midnights. 

It’s easy to think of her latest body of work as Taylor’s own Melodrama: indebted to slick electro-pop with a taste for vengeance while riddled with self-loathing and insecurity. But, as the title might suggest, it’s a lot more low-key than Lorde’s critically-acclaimed 2017 album, made up of languorous loops of sound and the singer’s dense storytelling. You can also detect hints of Reputation and its bitter edge. 

Taylor makes a few stark confessions throughout the record. ‘I have this thing where I get older/But just never wiser,’ she admits on ‘Anti-Hero. ‘Midnights become my afternoons.’ And yes, this is the ‘sexy baby’ song. I get the point: She’s starting to feel like she’s being surpassed by younger, more provocative artists. It’s a 30 Rock reference, relax. 

Taylor also says ‘so long’ to that goody two shoes ‘Daisy May’ on ‘You’re on Your Own, Kid.’ which was probably followed by the singer setting fire to her cutesy folklore cardigan (retailing at $75 at the time) in some ritualistic bonfire. 

Insecurities regarding body image also bubble to the fore as Taylor searches a glitzy industry party filled with ‘better bodies,’ while realising that her dreams of stardom aren’t all that rare. The twee ‘Sweet Nothing’ features one of Taylor’s better verses (‘Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors/And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other/And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"/To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it’).  

But just as she begins to show a glimmer of self-awareness, Taylor ends up doubling down hard, every well-spun bit of wordplay surrounded by a sea of clunky, often childish lines. But she knows that they’re bad and she knows everyone’s gonna talk about them, so Taylor wins again. 

Metaphors feel forced (‘Don't put me in the basement/When I want the penthouse of your heart’), while the cliches are out of control. ‘Question...?’ suffers from a serious case of Main Character Syndrome, the whole room cheering Taylor on as she makes out with the most popular boy in school. It’s a scene straight out of a Netflix original, able to envision the crane shot swirling above the two as they tenderly suck face. 

Taylor also swears yet revenge yet again on ‘Vigilante Shit,’ this time with a cat’s eye ‘sharp enough to kill a man.’ She talks as if karma is her own personal pet she can just sic on her enemies at will, which is especially galling as someone who’s cultivated such a rabid fanbase, constantly weaponising them against those who supposedly cross her. Not that long ago, they went after a grown man and his sister over a red scarf that DIDN’T ACTUALLY EXIST.  

Although it sounds like Taylor’s planning to kill Scooter at some point, presumably on a weekend. Remember when she revealed on ‘this is me trying’ that he had a couple of side chicks?  

Even ‘Anti-Hero’ has some pretty flawed logic: You can’t complain that you’re treated like said anti-hero one minute, then act petty and vengeful the next. It’s been almost 15 years – which one are you at this point? 

Naturally, Midnights also comes with its own labyrinth of easter eggs. No, I won’t be going through them all, ‘cos I really don’t give a fuck. I shouldn’t need a guidebook to tell me which song is about John Mayer and which one contains the Knives Out reference. If anything, the album only further proves that Taylor doesn’t need to commit every single thought to tape. Sometimes, it really, really isn’t that deep. 

Final track ‘Mastermind’ offers the most telling glimpse into Taylor’s psyche - ‘No one wanted to play with me as a little kid/So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since/To make them love me and make it seem effortless.’ She even calls herself ‘Machiavellian’ at one point. Whether it’s in jest is kinda hard to tell, but it’s certainly a... choice. 

Musically, Midnights is also a pretty mixed bag. ‘Vigilante Shit’ is a highlight, with bass throbbing its way around dark corners in a way that’s rather Billie-esque, which just makes the ‘sexy baby’ line from ‘Anti-Hero’ feel even more glaring. ‘Lavender Haze’ also utilises those subterranean bass groans, creating a murky, seductive groove beneath metallic gears shifts. ‘You’re On Your Own, Kid,’ meanwhile,’ is a more grown-up ‘Love Story’ from the point of view of a more jaded Juliet. ‘Anti-Hero,’ though, is just a lazy rehash of ‘Blank Space,’ right down to the complaints of feeling misunderstood. 

‘Karma’ is a more stylish and euphoric take on Washed Out’s ‘Feel It All Around.’ ‘Snow on the Beach’ also twinkles; delicate and windswept. But for all of Swift’s excitement to be collaborating with Lana Del Rey, the singer is relegated to backing vocalist. ‘Cos, let’s face it, Taylor would never let herself be upstaged like that. 

And yes, there’s a 3am edition of Midnights, ‘cos Taylor’s gonna milk those late night ruminations for all they’re worth, dammit.  

‘The Great War’ is okay, but not that great. Honour, truth, treaties, poppies, calling off the troops, we get it. ‘Bigger Than the Whole Sky’ has a hypnotic country twang, returning to the lush, cloudy nostalgia of folklore and evermore. ‘Would’ve Could’ve, Should’ve’ is a stormy, Fleetwood Mac-esque riposte at Mayer (found it), reflecting on the power imbalance in their romance while pleading: ‘Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.’ 

Midnights is a well-produced but rather unnecessary record. Even with its slick, shimmery wash, it’s everything you’ve heard before in some form or another: A song about John, a song about Tom, a song about Calvin. ‘Yes, I know I can be quite a divisive character, but I’m really just like you!’ Revenge. A couple of love songs dedicated to Joe. Probably something about Kanye and Kim. More revenge. Oh, and here’s a dossier full of clues for you to connect together like Charlie Kelly trying to track down the elusive Pepe Silvia. Boom, critical acclaim!  

As cynical as I felt about folklore and evermore, at least those records possessed some growth and a few interesting ideas. But as those albums were to indie folk, Midnights feels late to the party when it comes to brooding noir pop, the kind that’s already been perfected by other artists in every way imaginable. It’s really just a CHVRCHES or Purity Ring record in a quirky jumper.  

But what do I know? The record’s already gone to No.1. Buying presale tickets for her US tour turned into a bloodbath. Taylor could release a full hour of silence, and stans will hail it as an artistic statement and critics will write one in-depth analysis after another. And Stereogum will probably write the most positive negative review of it ever. Taylor’s no longer capturing the zeitgeist at this point, she is the goddamn zeitgeist.  

- Bianca B. 

[noa-ciharu]

oh wait i have more! ranpoe,

Who's the cuddler: Ranpo definitely, Poe likes it too but is way way more shy about his wants and longings. Not to mention even after a whole year of relationship his brain still short circuits for a second or two when embraced or hugged. RIP Poe but Ranpo is just built differently.

Who makes the bed: Ranpo is a person who won't get up from chair to get sweets and bullies Atsushi or Tanuzaki to do it instead. Not even in a parallel universe he makes bed. So yea, it has to be Poe otherwise bed would never in lifetime be in proper state (both from sleeping and ya know...)

Who wakes up first: Poe, because there's no explosion loud enough to wake Ranpo up when he falls into deep slumber. At those moments he takes the only chance to sneaks a peek at Ranpo (especially when he's relaxed and not on implicit guard as when awake) free of self-consciousness and unsurety as his stare would remain undetected. Poe cherishes those moments. He always let's Ranpo sleep for way longer than what's deemed proper.

Who has weird taste in music: neither, but for different reasons: Poe genuinely has no interest in any music other than classic one or one's that suit his writing style (mystery + crime + detective tropes). Ranpo on other hand, he simply refuses to listen to "anything below his standard", but deep down is tempted to. Once Dazai came into agency with radio on arm, blasting on pure trash, Kunikida was out at that time but when returned 30 mins later chased Dazai into oblivion. Still music wormed itself into Ranpo's brain but he'd rather die than admit it.

Who is more protective: hm tought one: Poe sure would be protective but 1) if there's an active threat to Ranpo's wellbeing he'll challenge it and be more upfront 2) if there's no active threat and situation is safe he'd turn into mother hen but would be really awkward and at lost what to do. Ranpo on other hand, he'd become much more serious and quiet as he keeps on planning how to eliminate that person from existence. Quiet terrifying of him I'd say.

Who sings in the shower: Ranpo does sometimes, not too often. Also nothing fancy or opera-alike, just humming lyrics without any firm intonation or rhythm. Nevertheless Poe likes to hear it.

Who cries during movies: if either if them cries it's due to frustration of how many plotholes the movie has. Neither of them can be normal about films, be it popular ones, cliched ones or crime detective ones they find a first plothole in movie's intro. God forbid they ever go on movie double date with some other couple they'll drive them insane. Also they got kicked out of the cinema ones for exact same reason, plus Ranpo couldn't understand why he had to shut up, wasn't it better to let people know how bad the movie is?

Who spends the most while out shopping: Ranpo definitely, mostly on sweets. You only the saying "same content just different package"? Well Ranpo doesn't because he keeps on buys 10 same chocolates just the wrapping looks different. Poe himself doesn't spend much but sometimes some fancy equipment for writing catches his eye, but he decided he objectively looking, isn't in dire need of it. Ranpo is quiet shapr and ofc pays attention and each time a week later said item appears at Poe's door.

Who kisses more roughly: I don't think they're a couple that has roughness high on their intimacy types list, but that's not to say they can't be from times to times a bit forceful and over the top passionate with each other. Since both are competitive, I'd say that's where roughness can kick in (especially if they have some mind battle as prelude, oh the sapiosexuals) but they'd be equal on that part.

Who is more dominant: hm, I'd say Ranpo, in terms of personality, demeanor, affection and sexual activity. However on mental chesgame and solving mysteries I'd say they're equal. However Poe too has competitive and bolder side that's rarely seen, but always as a response to something Ranpo said or did, so it's possible for him to take more active role as well, just under special circumstances.

My rating of ship from 1-10: 7/10 for fellas is it gay to write a fanfic of both of us novel for 6 years to impress my future bf rival. In bsd rival is a queer code for your honour they're not only idiots but also in love: not only did they choose home of sexual but dumb of ass as well. Also fellas is it gay to be detective, whose privates are you investigating? Other men? And both of them said yes, God bless.

Send me a ship and I'll tell you:

[h4ji]

─雨

summary: iwaizumi reminds you of the rain: a sign of life, but when your relationship changes, so does your view of rain.

warnings: infidelity/cheating, gradual relationship change, fluff to angst, & NOT PROOFREAD

wc: 2.5k

req: no

a/n: yes this is a repost, but here’s a fic inspired by the rain from a couple days ago

rain. you could either hate rain or love it, it could bring bad memories or good ones. you loved the rain because it reminded you of iwaizumi: his fresh scent, kisses in the rain, running in the rain, and the wet hair sticking to your forehead. your dates were often accompanied by rain, because of poor planning, but neither of you minded as you simply enjoy being in each other’s presence. the rain is symbolic, you and hajime saw it as renewal, a new spring, a revival of life. you both never saw it as a bad thing.

rainy days were either spent inside, bundled up and watching godzilla or outside, watching the dark grey sky turn into a blue sunny one from the window of a cafe. his calloused and warm hands holding your smaller ones. “haji, look!! the rain is pouring down!” you smile and hajime can’t help but smile at you. he pinches your cheek, “stop being so cute, y/n” he chuckles as you whine for him to stop. what could be better than this, you think. as the rain clear ups, hajime pulls you up and out of the cafe. the scent of fresh air and wet grass evident in your surroundings. rainy days were your favorites, because they reminded you of him. 

it was supposed to rain all week, which delighted you to no extent. but hajime is a busy man, with the olympics so close he couldn’t spend as much time at home. you didn't mind one bit, you supported him every step of the way and as long as he was happy and loved his job, you would be happy for him. “i’m home,” hajime says out loud, his tired frame taking off his shoes as he looks at the floor. and then he hears the pitter patter of your sock covered feet, “welcome home, haji” you smile, hands clasped together in delight before you jump and wrap your arms around him. your giggles fill his ears and he’s never been more delighted to hear it. his toned arms wrap around your frame, “i missed you” he breathes out, and almost instantaneously breaths your scent in. home. this is home. you were his home.

the sound of the rain drumming against the glass of the window, you’re favorite type of day. “haji, look! it’s raining outside” you smile whilst pressing your hand against the cool glass, contemplating whether you’d go outside. but those thoughts died down as soon as hajime declined the offer to go out. and you understood. of course you did! he just came back from a grueling day at work, how could you make him do something like that. this should’ve been the least of your worries

the rain is beautiful. you watch the droplets slide down the window, the sound gradually getting louder. and for some reason, the rain didn’t make you happy anymore. it made you sad. 

you tried to be understanding you really did, but hajime’s appearances at the house were practically nonexistent. where is he… you think as your fingers thump against the window sill, desperately looking outside, for a sign, a sign of hajime. you needed him. you didn’t realize but these symptoms: restlessness, trembling, harsh breaths and this constant worry, were of you having a panic attack. your body curls in on itself, an attempt to find solace in the cold room and the rain. but your lover was nowhere to be seen.

these situations started to make you resent the rain. the rain was no longer a symbol of life, renewal or spring. the thing that reminded you of hajime, the rain, you started to resent… what would this mean for you both. 

hajime could feel it too. the constant distance, an imaginary wall if you will, between you both. where did it go wrong… he frowns. he remembers rainy days being your favorite, so why was the atmosphere so gloomy and depressed, was he missing something? 

his failure to notice your feelings, your complete and utter loneliness, was where he started to go wrong. he failed to notice your constant comparing, he failed to notice your heart slowly breaking, failed to notice the utter loneliness and despair you felt within yourself. he wondered what was wrong, but never voiced his opinions, thinking if they wanted to tell me, they would. this relationship would no longer symbolize the old meaning of rain: fresh and beautiful life, now it symbolized despair, loneliness and tears. you used to wear your heart on your sleeve, it was something he loved about you, but he made you subject to these feelings. not him per say but his lack of… emotion or awareness. did he not notice you suffering? did he not notice you sobbing to yourself? did he care? what happened to you both?

you noticed he had changed. how he no longer mimicked your sadness or no longer pleaded towards it. he seemed much...happier. and your mind wanders, the insecurities biting at your body and mind, telling you that he no longer needed you and that he’d find someone better to appease to him.

he doesn’t come home often, stating that the olympics and his work are of first priority. and you think to yourself… is this why he didn’t notice your depressive state? you were practically screaming in silence, was he that oblivious. the home you lived in together, it no longer felt like home. and that day when hajime came home, he knew, things weren’t how they used to be. the pile of dishes in the sink, the cold dinner on the table, and the loud silence that filled the air. he sees your sleeping frame on the couch, doubled over in despair as the television on with some stereotypical rom com playing. oh how he despised those couples, so cliche and so...unnatural; is that how the two of you used to be?

he walks up to you, his mind internally fighting on whether to wake you up and ask if you were okay, ask if your relationship was okay, or just to let you sleep. he opted for the latter. which was the wrong move on his part.

he came home again the next night, something that was unusual. and this time you were awake, but the mess and emptiness from last night was still present. this befuddled him to no end, what the hell were you doing at home? or were you even at home all day? that day was particularly shitty: it was gloomy, he was tired, stressed, and all of this mess. his loud sighs of annoyance alarm you, the first time you see him in weeks and he’s annoyed with you? 

“do you do anything at all?” iwaizumi snarks out. “it can’t be that fucking hard, can it? i go and work for like 12 hours of the day and all you fucking do is sit on your ass and cry.” and it hurts him to say that to the one he loves, but his insecurities and anger got the best of him. were you at home all day today? were you seeing someone else? he was beyond confused with the two of you.

so he walks out that night. he leaves you alone, in the cold dark house to wallow in self pity and hatred. and as he goes to the bar he realizes, you’re no longer his home. 

as you wallow in a mountain worth of your own tears, you come to terms with the fact that you hate the rain because it reminded you of iwaizumi hajime. 

little do you know on that night he meets a lady. a small, curvy, attention giving and seeking, beautiful lady. her long hair sits perfectly on her shoulders and iwaizumi thinks about how he hasn’t seen you dressed up nicely recently. lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize he’s staring at her, but oh she definitely notices. the blush on her cheeks proves just that much, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

when was the last time you reacted to him like this? when did he even see another person that wasn’t you, has it been that long? he internally sighs. but he’s pulled out of his thoughts when he feels a soft and delicate hand on his bicep, “what’s a man like you doin’ here all by yourself” she glistens as she speaks. and iwaizumi swears he hasn’t felt like this in so long. he soaks in all her attention, like a dry sponge soaking all of the water thrown at it. his beautiful smile, the one you adore, shown on full display for the beautiful young lady. That night… he doesn’t think about you, at all. 

nothing seems out of the ordinary when you see him again. the same silent house, no smiles are thrown and it’s just an empty void. 

he sees her again. hell he makes plans with her, he wouldn’t call it a date, god no he wouldn’t. he has you-

“wait,” he thinks, “are we really still together?” he asks, almost in disbelief. you haven’t said a word to each other since iwaizumi bursted out on you. 

he found solace in her: her face, her emotions, her attention, even her body. god, she was everything you weren’t. she was giving him everything you couldn’t emotionally, mentally or physically. he didn’t even realize you working on yourself, all for him. you noticed it too. his persona was back, but who made it come back? certainly not you.

his smile, something he used to be so insecure about, was brighter than ever. but who was he smiling for, you hadn’t spoken in days, no weeks at this point. maybe work was getting better, you tried to convince yourself. “hajime, would never EVER do that to me... would he?” you think as tears well up in your eyes. hajime was your everything, he was your stability in time’s of weakness, he was your other half, but unfortunately for you he’s starting to not think the same.  

you see him home for the first time in 3 weeks, he looks happy and you smile at him. he’s surprised to see you greeting him, and he greets you with a hug and kiss to your temple. you’d never even guess that he was seeing someone behind your back. hajime reminded you of the rain, that fact never changed. this new symbol of rain resembles heartbrokenness. the sun in your life is covered by grey disgusting clouds. 

for months he continues this affair, the other woman giving him the support and love he no longer comes to you for. he holds her hand as she sleeps, while your hand lays sprawled out against his side of the bed. the rain hits the window, like that fateful day and your eyes well up in realization, “olympics season is over, where is he?”. your palm curls in on itself, the sobs racking up your body and they echo in the room. for the first time in months, the rain brings you comfort as you cry out all the insecurity and self hatred you’ve kept in. this is a ritual that continues for the rest of the week, wearing iwa’s sweater and crying as you long for his comfort or even his presence. his scent starts to fade from the house and rather it smells like the rain, the fresh rain that reminded you of him. that night, you grab your phone and press on iwa’s contact, and you type before your mind could process. “i miss you, can you please come home?” “what the hell did i do?” “please”, and you despised how desperate you sounded, but you needed him. however, your messages fell on deaf ears as he made love to this girl, he was pounding into her with so much love while you cried out for him in despair. he didn’t care about you anymore, he didn’t need you like you needed him. he was no longer your home.

the next night he came home, you noticed the love bites and nail marks, that which were so clearly not yours. he sleeps next to you, for the first time in weeks, but he feels so distant. it doesn’t even feel like he’s there. there’s no love in that bed. 

you think you’d be used to it, feeling alone while next to him, but you weren’t. You finally had him to yourself and he didn;t even spare you a glance. you had an idea that he was no longer interested, but you couldn’t fathom this. his phone lights up like crazy, said girl texting him, asking him when he would come back to her, when he would end things with you and saying after that they could finally be together, with no worries or barriers. your hand reaches out for his phone, opening up the password he made sure you knew by heart, which revealed all the messages with her. in these messages he professes his love for her, saying that he wishes they could start a family together and how he could just let go of the burden that he felt from you. 

sure he felt bad, you were his first s/o, you’d always have a special place in his heart. but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he felt bound to you, a relationship with no love or affection, no care, nothing at all. if he told himself a couple years ago that this is where you both would be, he wouldn't believe it, at all. you were each other’s first: first kiss, first sexual experience, first significant other, first everything. but the relief he felt when he heard you crying was abnormal, but all he could think of was “i’m free”. he heard your sobs as you looked at all the messages, he felt you shaking beside him. part of him wanted to reach out to you, wanted to console the broken person in front of him, but another part of him said that he was finally free to do as he pleases, he wouldn't be bound by a loveless relationship and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be anymore. like said before, he feels bad, really bad, for lying for cheating, but he felt like he had no other option with you. you always found a way to make him stay and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. besides, how could he feel bad when the person he loves was hiding in the confinement of his phone and not next to him every night. he couldn’t tell anyone how much he loved this girl because of you, but now he was free, free to do as he pleases.

iwaizumi hajime reminded you of the rain. but rain has different meanings. iwaizumi hajime reminded you of love, happiness and spring. your relationship also reminded you of rain, the gloominess, depression, spiritual death and bad omens. but now the rain reminded you of new life: the new life you’d face without hajime, the rebirth of your soul and heart,  the resurrection of happiness in your life, rain isn’t so bad anymore.

[peterspideyy]

what for? | part two

part one

summary- you call your boyfriend, peter. but, it isn’t a happy one. and he’ll remember it for the rest of his life.

warnings- angst, swearing

————

it’s been a month, three days, five hours and two minutes since you left.

peter still remembers that phone call vividly. it’s like, it’s been surgically planted into his mind for all eternity. everything reminds him off that call. and he despises it.

there’s been a funeral.

it was nice. peaceful.

peter knows you would of hated it though- everyone was too upset and dressed in all black. he’s knows you would of wanted people smiling or wearing colourful clothes. but, you weren’t there to tell him that’s what you wanted. peter was the only one not crying at your funeral. your whole family, even the avengers were sobbing.

except him.

he didn’t have any tears left.

he was empty.

“what for, love?”

the sound on the other end went silent, as peter waited for you to answer his question.

“darling? what’s wrong? you can tell me anything you know.” he ushered, feeling a slight panic rise in his body at how quiet it was on the phone.

it was too quiet.

“y/n?” another voice was heard suddenly, and he immediately recognised it as tony’s.

“mr stark?” peter shouted, in hopes tony could hear him. luckily, he did.

“pete?”

“yeah it’s me, where’s y/n?” peter questioned, genuine worry in his voice.

“i-“ tony couldn’t speak. what could he say? he was heartbroken, at the sight of you- dead.

“tony.” peter warned, making the man start to cry over your body.

“tony! where the hell is y/n?” he was shouting now, and tony could imagine him pacing around, hands pulling at his hair.

“peter...i’m so sorry.” tony mumbled, voice croaking with silent sobs.

“can you just tell me what’s going on?!” he screamed, as his hands started to shake.

“she’s gone.”

may has tried to get him to eat. he doesn’t want to. he doesn’t know the last time he ate alone. it sounds stupid- to not wanting to eat on your own. but, he always ate with you. and now you weren’t here anymore.

he’s not going to school, either. his teachers keep on sending him work, but he just see’s you. smiling and laughing. it doesn’t help that you were in all of his lessons. and how he remembers on friday afternoons, when you were both drained from the week you just had, how you would sit in the back of the class, hands intertwined, as you both whispered sweet nothings into each other’s ears. he loved those days.

but, you weren’t here to have those days again.

if he knew you were dying on that phone call, he would of said how much he loved you. how much he appreciated you. but, while you were trying to stay alive, he was too busy trying to set up a stupid date night.

he just wishes you told him.

he wishes for a lot of things. but, not everyone can get what they want.

a knock on the door inturrupted peter’s thoughts, as he looked up to see may entering with a sympathetic smile on her face. “there’s someone here to see you.”

he doesn’t know why, but a little bit of hope fluttered in peter’s stomach. he’s heard about how people fake their death on missions, and he prays that’s what happened with you. but, when tony stark walked in, his face dropped.

he was stupid to even think that you were alive.

“hey, kid.”

“i’m so sorry, kid, she’s gone.” tony whispered, tears falling down his cheek at the sound of peter’s broken cries on the phone.

“hi.”

tony looked around his room, taking in how much of a mess it was. he also noticed, how all of y/n’s belongings were spaced out on his bed. and then, tony took in peter. he had deep purple bags under his eyes. tears stained his cheek, as his bloodshot eyes starred at a random point in the wall. anthony coughed slightly, before sitting next to peter on the bed.

“how are you?”

peter shrugged.

“listen i know it’s hard, i’ve lost a person i love too i-“

“no.” peter cut off.

“yes, you loved...” peter stopped. he hasn’t said y/n’s name since that phone call. “her but it wasn’t in the same why like i did. so please, don’t say that you get me, because you don’t.”

tony had expected peter to snap back at him, for whatever he was going to say. so he wasn’t shocked.

“i am truely sorry, peter. i now how much you cared for her.”

peter looked down at his hands. “yeah.”

a minute of silence passed, before tony remembered why he came. “listen, i was going through old files this week, and i found this.”

he extended out a small blue usb, causing peter to take it out of his grasp.

“i watched the first couple of seconds, just to check what it actually was, but i think you would want to watch it.”

“what is it?”

“it’s from y/n.”

peter’s eyes went wide, tears forming in his eyes, as he turned to face tony. “what?”

tony titled his head to the side, smiling slightly, before patting his shoulder. “i’ll leave you alone, kid. i’m always here for you.”

“thank you, mr stark.” peter smiled back, but it never reached his eyes as tony nodded his head before leaving his room, and closing the door behind him.

as soon as the door clicked closed, peter shot up to his laptop, putting the usb into the side of the device. a folder popped up on his screen called ‘peter parker.’

he breathed out, double clicking on the blue folder before it opened to reveal one video. clicking on the video, an image of you popped up, making his breath hitch. it was just you, starring into the camera in mid talk, but it made peter’s heart melt.

he wiped away some tears that were falling, before clicking play.

“hi- oh shit-“ the camera fell of your desk, as you yelled making peter chuckle. you were always so clumsy. after picking up the camera, changing the angle slightly, you dropped your hands to your side, smiling widely.

“hi! sorry about that.” you laughed, looking down which is what you did when you were nervous. peter smiled softly, at your little gesture.

“so, i don’t know why i’m doing this. but, if your watching this peter, then i’ve passed. i hope your okay. i’m sorry that i left you this early. i don’t know, joining the avengers has put a higher risk of me getting more hurt. i know you have had your disagreements on me joining.”

peter remembers that argument. he was so worried about you. he wouldn’t want you to get hurt. or worse.

“but, i’m glad we’ve gone past that. but, just incase of an untimely death, i’ve made this little video in private. even though, darling, your asleep next door, so hopefully i haven’t woke you up by my screaming before.”

you giggled on the screen.

so did peter in his empty room.

“erm...when i first met you, on that cold, december day in high school, i knew you were my soulmate. even though, you were very nervous and kept on stuttering over every single word, i knew you would be the love of my life. the one thing i didn’t expect you to be, was to be my bestfriend. and i appreciate you so much for that.”

you breathed out, tears forming in your eyes as you looked deeply into the camera, making peter cover his hand over his mouth to stifle his sobs.

“i- you helped me with everything. i never had a good relationship with anyone. until you. this sounds so cliche, but you made me the person i am today. and no words could describe how grateful i am for that.”

you breathed in, catching your breath before speaking again.

“if i do pass, i want you to move on, alright? i don’t want to see you crying everyday. you deserve to experience love, pete. i hope i do get to spend the rest of my life with you, but stuff happens. you deserve to find someone who loves you as much as i do.”

tears were falling down both of your cheeks now, and peter had to stop himself from bringing his hand up to the screen and wipe them away softly.

but, he had to remind himself that it wasn’t real.

you weren’t in-front of him.

“sorry. i shouldn’t be crying,” you laughed, wiping away your tears, making peter pout, “i just...i’m so overwhelmed with how much i love you. your probably going to be really confused when you wake up to see my sobbing.”

you laughed, before stopping at another voice in the background.

it was his.

“y/n?”

peter remembers waking up on that day, panic filling him at the empty sheets next to him.

if only he knew what you were doing.

“oh shit, you’re awake.” you whispered chuckling slightly, as you leaned in to switch the camera off before freezing.

“thank you, peter benjamin parker. for everything.”

with one last smile, the video ended.

and peter’s sobs started.

————

a/n- sorry about how short this is, but thank you for reading :)

————

peter parker taglist-

@24kbucky @parkersbliss @liberty-barnes @icyhollands @dreamofaprilsblog @deathofmissjackson @averyfosterthoughts @jannine00742 @beverlyparkerr @anapocalypseinmymind @itstaskeen

[bbangsoonie]

tangerine guesthouse

member: haknyeon genre: fluff word count: 2,238 synopsis: on a healing trip to jeju island, you meet a guesthouse owner who goes the extra step to make sure you enjoy your stay.

a/n: happy birthday to our jeju boy, juhaknyeon ! 🍊

After impulsively quitting your job, you packed a suitcase and booked a last minute flight to Jeju Island. You wanted to escape but unfortunately didn’t have enough money for an international flight. So you found yourself flying over on a domestic plane.

Everything about this journey was spontaneous. The money you saved up on the side from your tedious 9-5 job was all spent on this healing trip. With nothing but a camera in your hands, you were determined to finally rest and have fun for once. You hadn’t had the luxury to do so in years.

Before you left Incheon Airport, you reserved a room at a random bed and breakfast you found online. “Tangerine Guesthouse”. It had a cute name.

The taxi dropped you off in front of the place and you cautiously walked in with your bag rolling behind you. You peaked inside the building, unsure if you were supposed to just enter.

“Hello!” a chirpy voice greeted you. Startled, you jumped as you turned around to face the person who nearly gave you a heart attack. Seeing him only made your heart beat faster. He was cute. Extremely cute.

“Are you here to rent a room?” he asked.

“Y-Yes, I made a reservation a couple of hours ago,” you pulled out your phone to show him the details.

“Ah, Y/n! Yes, welcome,” he beamed. “My name is Juhaknyeon but please call me Haknyeon.”

You reached out to shake his hand and were surprised to feel how soft they were.

“Allow me to show you to your room,” he said before guiding you upstairs.

The room was fairly small but cozy. It had everything you needed and made a cute space for photos. After Haknyeon left, you began to unpack.

You heard a knock on the door and mindlessly told your guest to come in. You looked up when they entered, surprised to see another male.

“Hello! I’m Sunwoo and I’m staying in the room next to yours,” he introduced himself. “I just wanted to stop by to say hi and get friendly.”

“Nice to meet you, Sunwoo. I’m Y/n,” you smiled.

“The other guests and I are gathering this evening to just chat over beer. Would you like to join us as well? We’d love to have you,” he said.

On a normal occasion, the introvert in you would have declined. However, you were on a healing trip and resolute about trying new things. So you happily accepted the invitation and promised to meet them in the yard at 7.

You had about four hours until then and decided to kill time by exploring the neighborhood. You enjoyed the change in scenery and the fresh air that Seoul could not offer.

You found yourself alone at a nearby beach and embraced the solitude. There were no managers yelling at you about deadlines or coworkers passive aggressively criticizing your work here. It was just you and the roaring waves. Grabbing your camera, you took a few shots of the salty sea. Perhaps you would return to your hobby and pursue photography.

You allowed yourself to consider it as an option as you headed back to the streets to look for a restaurant. You settled for the closest one and were satisfied with your choice when you took a bite of their seafood ramen.

You roamed around a bit more after the meal. You came across a souvenir shop and ended up spending a lot of time—and money—there. You certainly had a thing for cliche souvenirs. Keychains, magnets, mugs. You loved them all.

You came back to the lodging with a bag full of trinkets you knew you would keep instead of gifting. The retail therapy added a bounce in your walk as you climbed up the stairs. You organized them accordingly as you happily hummed.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was time to convene with the rest of the boarders. You threw on a cardigan before going back outside.

Haknyeon was by the grill flipping meat and Sunwoo was busy taking out the drinks from the fridge. You awkwardly stood around, not knowing where to go.

“Take a seat wherever you want,” Sunwoo called out.

Finding an empty spot, you sat down and looked around. The yard was decorated nicely to bring a nice ambiance.

“Hi, I’m Eric and this is Hyunjoon,” the guy next to you grinned.

You exchanged greetings with the two and introduced yourself. You had to admit it was nice to meet such amiable people.

The night went by with the five of you conversing over black pig samgyupsal and alcohol. Haknyeon was a big foodie, Sunwoo was a big tease, Eric was a big dork, and Hyunjoon was a big sports enthusiast. Hyunjoon came to Jeju to enjoy horseback riding and planned on dragging Sunwoo and Eric along.

“If you guys are down for some physical activity, I can destroy you in badminton,” Haknyeon suggested.

“Loser has to down a bottle of soju. Each,” Eric laughed evilly.

To make the teams fair, you were paired up with Haknyeon to play against the other three. He definitely proved his worth as the ace, easily winning 21-12. Sunwoo let out a scream, blaming Eric for his punishment suggestion. The latter tried to run away but was caught by Hyunjoon who handed him a bottle.

They all retreated to their rooms after fulfilling their penalty, leaving you and Haknyeon to clean up. The work was done relatively quickly and you made it back to your bed before midnight.

The next morning, you came out of your room clutching your Ryan doll that doubled as a pillow. You mumbled a “good morning” to Haknyeon who was preparing breakfast and chuckled at your appearance.

“Cute,” he commented on your tastes. You replied with a yawn, still not fully awake.

“The guys are probably gonna be hungover so I’m making some soup. I hope that’s okay with you,” he said.

He rolled up his sleeves before washing his hands. He then grabbed a knife and began cutting the vegetables. Your nose wrinkled at the sight of onions. You had forgotten to mention how picky you were. It was an embarrassing conversation to have as an adult. You had to explain how your childish tastebuds never matured while people let out an incredulous gasp. It was something you had to disclose every time you ate with someone new and it was honestly pretty tiring. People didn’t understand that you didn’t choose to be picky. Your tongue just refused the tastes of a lot of foods. It was more inconvenient for you than anyone else.

Nevertheless, you were excited to try the food made by the self proclaimed food connoisseur. You would just have to pick out the vegetables later.

The two of you decided to just eat together after the guys refused to wake up before noon. Haknyeon took a seat in front of you after he set the table and you thanked him.

To your relief, he didn’t seem so shocked by your childlike palate. He let the conversation end by saying something about respecting other people’s preferences.

Noticing your hair falling in front of your face, he got up to go look for something. He returned with a hair tie which he offered to you. It was just a courteous gesture but it still made you giddy regardless. The hair tie was probably just a spare left by previous guests but to you, it was a token. Something to remember him by.

“So, Y/n, what brings you to Jeju?” he questioned.

You’ve heard your name before many times in your life. Obviously. But hearing it from his voice felt different. The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh you know, just the typical “I wanted to get away from the city” trope,” you hummed.

“Classic,” he nodded.

After breakfast, Haknyeon volunteered to be your tour guide for the day. He showed you his favorite places in town and even drove further out to take you to the photo exhibition you wanted to see. You had a blast, taking a bunch of pictures to commemorate your trip.

When he asked why you used such a fancy camera and why you took photos of everything, you simply shrugged in response. Truthfully, you didn’t know why either.

For lunch, he brought you to a sashimi place where you bonded over a large platter of raw fish. Both the view and quality of the restaurant were amazing. And your company too, of course.

“Do your guests always get such personalized treatment?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Honestly? No,” he laughed. “I’m not that great of a host. Nor do I have the time and money to.”

“Then what’s all this? Today?”

“Hmm… I’m not quite sure.”

You left it at that and let him take you to an aquarium. Haknyeon had more fun watching you than looking at the animals. You were like a little kid in a candy store. Everything was fascinating to you.

The last time you visited an aquarium was for a field trip when you were in elementary school. It felt like you were going back to your childhood roots.

You made it back to the guesthouse in time for dinner. This time, you insisted on cooking. With the ingredients left in the fridge, you made kimchi fried rice. The smell lured the others down to join you two in the kitchen.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful, which you appreciated. You got to relish time just passing by. It was exactly what you came to Jeju for.

Back in your room, you connected your camera to your laptop to browse through the photos. Looking at them, you noticed that Haknyeon was in half of them.

“Maybe it was him I wanted to save in my memory,” you whispered under your breath.

Another week went by and you wished time would flow slower. Hyunjoon was the first to leave the guesthouse and it already felt a lot emptier without him. You hated goodbyes. You hated how all good things had to eventually come to an end.

The feeling made you cherish the remaining time you had left on the island. You spent your evenings with the guys and frequently chatted in the group chat with all five of you in it. You never expected to grow so fond of strangers you barely got to know. Haknyeon, in particular, had a special place in your heart.

He often took you out on what you liked to believe were dates. Under the guise of being your tour guide, he showed you the hidden parts of his hometown. Though he was slightly disappointed that your favorite thing from all the menus you’ve tried was the black sesame frappuccino from Starbucks.

“Really? Of all the things you’ve eaten and drank, you choose something from a chain store?” he had whined.

“Hey, they only have it here. I can’t get it anywhere else,” you defended.

He made it his mission to find you something local that would triumph over your love for the Starbucks drink. A close second was the makgeolli made and sold only in Jeju.

By the time Sunwoo and Eric left, you and Haknyeon had gotten extremely close. With him, it was so easy to open up and just be you. You practically lived in his room. You slept over after late night movies and cuddles.

Neither of you ever verbally defined your relationship. You were both somewhat afraid to ask what exactly you two were. Instead, you focused on each other.

“So you’re picking up photography again?” he asked with your head resting on his chest. The two of you were lazing around on the couch with a random show on for background noise.

“Possibly. It was always an interest of mine. I thought I’d get to have it as a side-job once I started working full time but I never got around to it. Trying to make a living was a lot harder than I thought it’d be,” you revealed.

“You definitely have the talent. I think you should take the opportunity and go for it,” he encouraged.

The idea lingered on your mind as the second week flew by. Your passion for photography had been pushed to the side as you struggled as a paycheck worker. You missed taking up odd gigs for extra cash in college.

On your last night at the guesthouse, you paused in the middle of dinner to stare at Haknyeon. The more time you spent with him, the more you didn’t want to leave. Changing your career path because of a guy was crazy. Moving to an island because of said guy that you only met two weeks ago was even crazier. But he inspired you to do what your heart desires. And that included being with him.

“What if I moved here to start freelancing? Publish that photography book I always dreamed of. Maybe set up my own studio one day,” you pondered aloud.

That proposition had many implications about the relationship between you two. He took a moment to carefully contemplate over it. Your heart pounded waiting for his response.

“If that’s what you truly want to do, I think that’d be nice,” he smiled, making your own face light up.

a/n: wow i was reminiscing my own time at jeju while writing this 🥺 and now, with this fic, i have officially written for all tbz members! :)

[umikawa]

Dating Akiteru Headcanons

Akiteru dating headcanons because somebody prompted my aki brainrot. Also, making this reminded me of something, season four Akiteru, I will be waiting. 

Imagine🤢 imagine double posting and expecting notes 🤢 bye Tendou or Suna fic nexts depends on my queue I forgot.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

Idk if this is a cliche but, Meeting Akiteru in one of your college classes. Group project, you know the works.

He’s never seen you in class, he sits way in the back so the professor can’t see him watching videos on his phone, while you sit close to the front. So your paths almost never cross.

Always suggests going to a cafe in between Sendai and Miyagi because one- that's where you’re situated, and two- if you two finish early he can go bully kei or you know, get bullied by Kei. 

Number exchange was inevitable for a group project but you two usually just talk about more random things than the actual project itself. 

It’s at like three-four am and he’s drastically awake because hello? Taking a shot of every monster flavor isn’t a good idea? But, it was your idea and he likes you. 

Yeah, it takes him two weeks to fall for you. Go you! 

Doesn’t ask you out until after the project is done because he wouldn’t want to put pressure on you or make things awkward if you were to say no.

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

Another person who does not want you to be cold, always bringing you an extra jacket/sweater/hoodie.

Makes playlists for you, sure maybe he asks Kei for some music recommendations but it's the thought that counts isn’t it? (He always listens to what he recommends just in case.)

Fight me on this but it doesn’t matter what season it is, He is making gingerbread houses with you and always makes it into a competition. He asks Kei to judge and he always chooses yours just to spite Akiteru. 

When your guys’ courses change, he’ll switch one of his classes to be in one of yours because he feels like you two would drift apart. Which isn’t true. 

You’ve already met his family so there really isn’t anything new, only Kei usually has to deal with both of your guys’ shit. 

God these suck but lets roll with it i guess. 

Shows you off to everyone on his volleyball team, More to Akaizawa than anyone else, he’s unbearable. (If Kei is there he snickers at his annoyed face.)

Drops by your dorm loudly announcing that he has food, always gets your roommate's attention so he buys extra for them too. (what a gentleman)

[votederpycausemufins]

It’s been a crazy few days, but this chapter is done now. big tw and cw for the chapter though because it’s got some blood and graphic depictions of violence and harm.

@petrichormeraki and @helleborusangel

Grifter jolted awake at the sound of some beeping. He groaned slightly and turned to look at what was making the noise. He looked at it a few seconds before closing his eyes to return to his nap, but a moment later he sat up, fully awake. His wings fluttered happily as he looked at the surveillance system Sense had set up. It wasn’t the best it could be, no, but tripwires all over the place would tell them when someone went down certain hallways. 

Based on the signals, there were three people walking around meaning there was at least one person to kill. His double was unfortunately off limits, and so was Nightmare for now, but the only other people he couldn’t kill were all accounted for, so even if both of them were there, he could still have fun with one of them.

Grifter quickly sent a message to Sense to tell him what was going on and then he stood up from the throne. He watched the screens, ready for another one to go off. When a notification popped up, he immediately started running off in that direction to find whoever was there. Getting through the halls was a bit confusing due to him being new to the place, but with a little magic, it wasn’t that bad.

He heard their voices before he saw them obviously. They were trying to be quiet, but they weren’t quiet enough. He was happy to only recognize Grian’s voice, so it seemed everyone else was fair game. In a moment, the place shook slightly, causing some concerned and worried noises before the hallway was sealed off with more walls. “Looks like some people came to visit!”

Grian immediately moved to the front of the ground, having Grum off to Ranboo since his arms were free. “Where’s Tommy?”

Grifter waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry. He’s not dead. I need him alive to lure Nightmare in. Now, who do we have here? Two natives, a natural, oh and little Grumbot~”

Grum turned away to hide his face against Ranboo’s chest, pretending that it was Mumbo holding him instead. Grian moved slightly to hide the others from view, opening his wings to help with that. And then while Tubbo still held Michael, he also pulled out a sword. “Give Tommy back, or else.”

“Hmm, how about no. Again, I need him to get Nightmare to me, so until that happens, he’s staying here. Obviously I can’t kill him because then it would probably affect Theseus, and if that happened, I’d get the short end of the stick. That being said, I think some of the people here are fair game. Like you, you, maybe you, and- do you care about the zombie piglin?” Grifter asked after pointing to where Tubbo, Ranboo and Grum had been standing.

“You’re not killing any of them!” Grian growled, but Grifter ignored him and used a bit of magic, making Michael glow for a moment.

“There, doesn’t matter now.” The Listener shrugged before the floor shifted, turning into a spike and spearing Michael out of Tubbo’s hands. As Tubbo tried to reach where it had taken the ziglin, he was suddenly enveloped in lava. “Oh! This is so much fun!” Grifter clapped before Grian slammed the hels copy against the wall, hands in fists on his collar.

Behind them, Grum pressed his face into Ranboo’s chest even more and covered what he had in place of ears. Two death messages were sent out, and of course having his communicator build into himself, the messages went straight to him. If someone died, he- it- the lives count- it needed- he needed-. Grum started buffering, going slack in Ranboo’s arms.

Grifter just smiled back at Grian’s angry face. “Aww, are you maaad? Heehee!” His sweet smile turned to a much more poisonous one. “Well maybe I could just kill Grum. I’m not sure that bug of his works between dimensions, now does it? Where would he go? Would you ever find him again?”

Grian froze, stunned by Grifter’s comment. “B-bug?” He asked, only getting the single word question out before he was thrown against the opposite wall, the force of hitting it winding him.

Grifter cracked his neck as he stretched. He merely needed to gesture at the wall for it to shift and pull Grian into it, leaving his head and half of his wings exposed. “Oh you don’t know? Well, I guess that’s expected. You’re still the person who made NPG, hmm? It’s amazing he hasn’t already completely crashed like the second one. And the new pair aren’t even a year old, how long until they’re gone too?” Grifter shifted his eyes to look towards Grum, still facing Grian. “Maybe I can speed it up.”

“No!” Grian yelled, struggling to escape his stone prison. “Leave him alone!”

Grifter ignored Grian and summoned an obsidian knife. “Alright, who wants to die next! I’ve still got time to kill, so what better way to do that than killing people.”

Grian completely froze up. Physically he was staring at his hels copy, but in his mind he saw someone else. Even as he saw them move towards Ranboo and Grum, he couldn’t get himself to move. The enderman hybrid tried to find someplace to run to, but he just backed up into a wall. Grifter dove at Ranboo with the knife, and while Grian couldn’t see the injury, the following scream was enough to make his blood curdle. More yelling came from the hybrid, but he wasn’t killed, Grifter just torturing him for fun.

Finally, the helsmit stabbed Ranboo once more, leaving the knife in his chest before getting up. “Sounds like Nightmare’s getting close. Sorry to run, but I have more important things to do!” And one of the walls he created collapsed, leaving him skipping away happily, ignoring the blood covering his clothes.

Now that Grifter was out of the way, Grian could see the state everyone was in. Unlike normal, the bodies that had been left behind hadn’t disappeared. Lava was cooling over what remained of Tubbo, but the smell told Grian all he needed to know about what was underneath. Michael was still speared on the stone spike, a large hole through his chest and one of his arms had fallen off. 

Grum had fallen off to the side, his screen a rainbow of color with a large crack spanning the screen, blood splattered on him. And finally Ranboo was lying on the ground, ignoring the knife in his chest to instead clutch his left eye, blood dripping from between his fingers.

Grian struggled against the stone trapping him. Theoretically he could use magic to get himself out, but being contained in the walls could backfire and leave him injured. That being said, it would still leave him in better shape than the others.

The wall exploded from magic. Ranboo and Grum were far enough that the debris didn’t hit them, but there was still rubble left everywhere. Grian’s wings hung limply at his side, every small movement causing a wave of pain to go through him. The explosion caused damage to him, but the rocks had mainly hit his wings, leaving them useless. Grian took a few deep breaths before holding his breath in preparation of shifting the wings away. It was agony for a few seconds, but once they were gone, so was the pain.

Grian limped over to the mass that was Tubbo since he was closest. A quick check told him Grifter had disabled respawn recently, meaning that their bodies wouldn’t disappear. He used some more magic to change that back, and the mass deflated at the same time Michael’s body and disconnected limb disappeared. Immediately after that happened, Grian doubled over, hands on his knees keeping him up. His head was swimming and he wanted to pass out, but he still had plenty to do.

He forced himself back up to standing and pulled himself over to Grum, dragging the bot over to Ranboo who was slowly calming down, the pain fading from shock and adrenaline. Once they were close to each other, Grian cast healing and health spells. The recent damage Grum had acquired faded while the knife in Ranboo’s chest was pushed out as the flesh there healed and his eye mended. 

Grian looked over to Grum, the bot’s screen still picturing a loading circle as he continued to buffer. The avian tried to take a step, but he was hurt and tired, so he just fell to the ground, all three of them now passed out.

.

.

.

Upon reaching the roof, Grifter immediately made his way over to Sense. He pulled the redstoner into a kiss before pulling his belt off and going over to Tommy. “Sorry Seesee, just uses less magic this way.” And then he pulled the belt away from around his own tunic, using magic on the two of them to make a metal harness that was put around Tommy. The chain around the teen’s leg was also taken off and moved onto the harness, which Grifter used as a sort of leash. “There! Now remember, no trying to run off. It won’t end well for you.”

Tommy tried to struggle, but wasn’t able to do much before Grifter stomped on his already injured leg, making him scream. 

He wasn’t able to do much as the helsmit yanked his bandana off and looked it over. “Hmm… Theseus’ always looks more bloody than this. Well, easy enough to fix!” And Grifter pressed the fabric to his blood soaked tunic, the red liquid quickly being drawn into the fabric. “There! I just might have to give you a few more injuries to make it believable, but it should do fine.”

Tommy tried to move away, but Grifter yanked him closer before using the bandana as a gag, tying around his head. “Oh calm down, it’s not human blood. At least, I don’t think. Some sort of weird enderman.” That didn’t reassure Tommy at all and instead he started struggling more, knowing who Grifter was referring to.

Grifter just laughed at Tommy’s panic and pulled out the mask he had taken from Theseus, putting it on Tommy and using some magic to change his hair color. “There! Now you’re like the spitting image of Theseus! Now we just need that extra injury. Hmmm… eyes are too cliche, especially since I’ve already done that today. And his neck is already healed, so damaging there again wouldn’t help. Cut on the mouth would just cause too much blood.” Grifter rubbed his chin before looking back at Sense. “Hey, do you remember what I did to Sahn back in highschool when Vurne was missing? I think I’ve told you that story.”

“Many times. You always did have fun then.” Sense replied. “It was cuts on the back when he messed with your wings.”

Grifter lit up at the answer. “Oh I remember that! That was so much fun! Yes, I think that will work great for this!” Tommy tried to move away again, but Grifter just moved him so he was laying on his front, face pressed into the stone. When Grifter cut into his back, it wasn’t deep, just enough to cut through his shirt and draw blood. Tommy grit his teeth into his bandanna to keep from yelling, ignoring the taste of iron that came from it.

“Okay! I think that’s enough for now. I’ll take him down so I can meet with Nightmare and finally put this whole situation behind us.” Grifter said before yanking Tommy to his feet. “Do you want to stay up here or come down with us?”

“I believe I can set this weapon to auto pilot. I’d much rather watch what you decide to do.” Sense replied, flicking a few levers and pressing some buttons. “And I’ve got some extra options if you need them.”

“You always do know how to treat me.” Grifter replied in a purr before dragging Tommy along. With a bit of magic, they reached the throne room and Grifter sat down on the throne, finding a place to chain Tommy up nearby. “Oh this is going to be so much fun, I just know it!”

Tommy tried not to move as every time he did, Grifter whacked him for causing the chains to make a noise, but eventually he was sitting in a position he could see what was going on. When Nightmare came in, he was glad the gag muffled his gasp. For the most part it looked like Dream, though his mask was cracked. But other than that, his hoodie was stained with blood and limbs stood at odd angles like they had been broken, yet he didn’t seem to care.

“Now, did you really need to go through all this trouble to-”

“Haha, shut up bitch. I’m the one on the throne and with Theseus. You have… hmm let’s see.” Grifter started mumbling and counting his fingers. “Oh right! Nothing! Except admin powers to a server that, whoops! You’re not even in! And you’re stuck in a broken body that isn’t your own and the only reason you want Theseus is because not being near him is literally tearing you apart because of the revival process.”

Nightmare took a step forward, but a quick gesture from Grifter had Sense shooting a weapon at Nightmare’s feet. “I’m technically already dead. What can you do about that?”

“Aww, do you not recognize me? I’m Flora’s friend! Specifically her uncle. You know, the one she’s always talking to? It’s like the one bit of freedom I would get. She kept me up to date on everything going on in that world of yours and to be completely honest… I’m a huge fan! Loved what you did with the place!”

Nightmare took a surprised step back, not expecting a response like that. “Really? I would assume if you’re close with Theseus-”

“Pfft, not really. He’s Dad’s golden child and I come in dead last just barely behind Euro. I guess that’s what happens when you try to purposefully kill death. Oh well. Anywho! Love your world, I want it!”

“And I get Theseus out of it?” Nightmare asked, and Tommy could tell he was being looked at.

“Oh no. Absolutely not! If you got Theseus, I couldn’t have my fun with Seesee.” Grifter pouted, trying to look as sad as possible. “Dad cursed him and I can’t have my fun unless you’re gone for good.”

Nightmare crossed his arms, a cracking sound coming from one of them. “Alright, and you’re telling me this why? Wouldn’t it be better to lie? Get me convinced? Or have you found a loophole.”

The Listener just smiled and started swinging his feet. “Oh no! I already did my lying and whatnot.” He ruffled Tommy’s head, the magic dissipating. “Theseus isn’t around, I just needed you convinced long enough to make sure you couldn’t escape.”

Nightmare looked around before trying to leave, finding green magic creating barriers around the place whenever he got close to any sort of exit.

Grifter stood up, clapping his hands together. “Oh I’m going to have so much fun! Maybe we can start with taking you apart and then putting you back together. How much pain do you feel? Is it all numb, or is it like normal? Oh do you even bleed anymore? You’re essentially a zombie. Oh! Seesee! What if when we put him back together, we give him one of Tommy’s limbs! Dad won’t mind me doing that! And if Theseus loses an arm, who cares!”

“Those do sound lovely dear, but I can’t help but think…” Sense started, trailing off, but Grifter knew what he meant.

“Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t think about you! I was just so caught up in the moment! I would never ever want to leave you out of something like this! I’m sure you have plenty of redstone projects to test out, hmm?”

“Oh like you wouldn’t imagine.” Sense purred, pulling Grifter close.

While the two continued to flirt and make heart eyes at each other, Nightmare realized while he couldn’t escape, he could get to Tommy. As he crept over to the teen, he held a finger up to his mask, gesturing for him to be silent. Tommy tried to back up, but he was already up against something and couldn’t move further. 

Slowly, Tommy watched as Nightmare moved the chain, unlinking it from where Grifter had put it. For a moment, Tommy wondered if Nightmare was good, the people in helscraft hadn’t been too bad save for his own double and Sense, and with his taste in people to date, it made sense. For all he knew, Nightmare was helping him escape. But then the chain moved around Tommy’s neck.

“You know Tommy, I just wanted you to listen and follow the rules for once.” Dream’s echoed voice whispered, making Tommy tremble. “I don’t want you dead, but I want to live more, and if that involves killing you, so be it.”

The chain started to tighten, and with Tommy already in bad shape, dark spots soon started filling his vision. He was half aware as Nightmare was pulled away by Grifter and handed off to Sense who shot him with some sort of weapon. The world went sideways as he fell to the ground, chain still wrapped around his neck. It was slightly looser without Nightmare pulling it, but it was still caught. Grifter struggled with the chair before just destroying it, Tommy gasping for air, and then the room rumbled as the magic blocking the doorway was destroyed.

.

.

.

When Grian next woke up, he was moving. It took a moment to comprehend how, but soon he realized Ranboo was dragging him along, Grumbot ahead of them, leading them forward. Grian shifted, trying to pull away from Ranboo, making the hybrid stop. “He’s awake.”

“Correct. Continue onward.”

“Don’t we want to stop and check how he’s doing?”

“He is not dead. No need. Continue onward.”

“I really think-” Was all Ranboo could get out before Grian tried to pull away and stand on his own, just ending up on the floor. “Okay we really need to stop now.”

Grumbot stopped walking and turned around, Grian wincing at the smile pictured on its screen, Ranboo doing the same. “Pick him up and continue onward. Time is of the essence in a situation such as this.”

Grian was picked back up, Ranboo not struggling too much due to the avian’s weight or lack thereof. Grian’s mind was still fuzzy from his magic, and he was doing his best not to go completely loopy and let instinct take over. “G-Grum?”

“Grum can be discussed when you are more lucid. And as we-”

“Let me guess, continue onwards?”

“Correct.” Grumbot nodded. “A longer path must be taken due to alterations with the castle and magic barriers along the way that cannot currently be broken.”

Grian feebly attempted to escape Ranboo’s arms again, but had no luck. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. Unless you are referring to Grum, then that is harder to explain.”

Grian wasn’t a fan of that answer and tried looking up at Ranboo. “What happened?”

“Well, after you healed us, I was the only one awake for a while. I was trying to figure out how to move both of you when he woke back up and got me to carry you before leading me around. Other than that, nothing.”

Grian frowned. That didn’t quite make sense. There was nothing that would have caused something like this. The only thing to happen between when Grum was fine and now was… Grifter showing up. So that was the reason. “It’s because Grifter showed up, isn’t it?”

Grumbot briefly looked back. “That is connected, yes. But that is not the main cause. The main causes are actually connected to Tubbo and Michael.”

“Why them?” Was the question Grian wanted to ask, but Ranboo beat him to it.

“Deaths are to be tracked and categorized as canon or non-canon so respawn can occur. As the admin has moved that task to another system, that system is supposed to track it.”

Grian started to ask a question, shifting badly in the process. “But Mumb- Ah! That got moved out of you.”

“Correct, but it was merely out of habit. And now in a situation like this, rational thought is needed and emotions are not, thus Grum is currently out of service.”

“What?!” Grian nearly jumped out of Ranboo’s arms, but was too weak to actually do so. “What are you talking about?”

“This may not be the best time to discuss due to the present situation. However, this may be a long trip and a sooner discussion would be preferred over a later one.”

Grian looked at Ranboo, who just shrugged, making Grian look back at Grumbot. “I’d like to know what’s going on now.”

“Very well. When located at Technoblade’s residence, the topic of his ‘chat’ was brought up. Apparently he hears voices in his head of other people of sorts. It is apparently a genetic trait.”

Grian groaned. “Ugh. Yeah, they’re a mess. Finally had to do something after Doc and Scar found out during all the Area 77 stuff. I’m mostly not bothered by it.” Then Grian chuckled. “Dad found a way to give his physical form and there were always crows everywhere.”

“That makes the next part less concerning. Both Technoblade and Tommy had been concerned about Grum’s chat.”

“Wait, he's got one of his own? I mean, You have- ugh you’re just making it more confusing.”

Ranboo nodded. “And I’ve got less context than you.”

A rumble through the castle made them pause, wondering what was going on and how bad it was for them. It wasn’t too close to them, but they still sped up into a bit of a jog as they continued onwards. “Grum has five voices in his chat. While they mainly stay voices, in certain situations, two of them have been asked to take up a more physical role. One example of that is Eyes.”

“Hold on, are you saying you’re one of them?!” Grian asked, Ranboo just as shocked.

“Correct. The assumption is that due to Grum’s robotic nature, something like this is possible.”

Grian paused, thinking back to Hermitcraft, before Grum and Jrum had been given their new bodies, but after Mumbo’s whole chat therapy session.

“So you’re telling me you actually know about this stuff?” Grian leaned against Mumbo’s nether portal after dropping off some diamonds as payment.

Mumbo shrugged. “You’re not the only one to have grown up in a more advanced world.”

“Oh so we’re calling it advanced now, are we?”

“Oh hush. But yes, I did some schooling. I didn’t quite get too terribly far before joining Hermitcraft, so I had to do a bit of back and forth. To make up for some of the credits I missed, I needed some extra classes, and there were courses on psychology. They worked with the rest of my schedule and so I took them.”

“Oh, well excuse me Doctor Jumbo.” Grian said playfully before laughing from being lightly smacked by Mumbo.

“I never got any sort of medical degree from that. And I wasn’t a top student or anything.”

“Well, what would you say I am?”

“Obviously you have the condition of being a nuisance!” Mumbo retorted, Grian just laughing some more.

“But no, I’m serious. You heard what was going on last season with the hippies and Area 77, right? I’ve never really been in a position to get a name for… well that. Long shot, but maybe you know about it?”

Mumbo rubbed his mustache in thought, then started walking. “Hmm… you said it was genetic, correct?”

Grian followed behind. “Yeah, as far as I know. My dad and one of my brothers had it for sure, but I can’t be one hundred percent sure about the rest.”

Mumbo reached a bookshelf and started looking through the books. “I know someone in class had done a presentation that mentioned what you had, because they were doing it on something that for a long time was related. While it had some elements of schizophrenia due to the various voices being seen as connected to hallucinations or delusions, the way in which it appeared and other symptoms made it get categorized as a dissociative disorder.”

Mumbo finally found the book he was looking for and pulled it out, looking at the table of contents before flipping through the pages. “The fact that the different voices had their own sorts of personalities linked it to dissociative personality disorder, but the common amount of voices was much higher than the standard. Plus that normally appears after some sort of childhood trauma of sorts and the mind makes those personalities as a sort of protection. Which means it’s not really genetic while the condition you have certainly is.

“Let’s see, at the time of this book's production, I believe it was still categorized as a type of dissociative disorder. I believe it’s had a bit of debate, but for the most part from what I learned, it fits the category.” Mumbo flipped through a few pages before landing on a section. “Here we go. Multi-faceted dissociative disorder.”

Grian ended up stealing to book away to read about it, reading a bit on the related disorders. It was something to do when he couldn’t get to sleep after a long day, and while his excuse was it was boring, the fact Mumbo seemed to like it was good enough for him.

“I’m thinking it’s something a bit different.” Grian finally replied. “Sounds more like something I read about in one of Mumbo’s books.”

“And does that complicate things?”

Grian paused, thinking it over. “No. I don’t think so. If I’m right, it’ll make it easier to go over since it seems well known enough.”

“Of course. Likely to be discussed with Mumbo or Puffy then.”

Grian glanced to Ranboo who just shrugged. “You act like I know much more than you. I remember she exists, but not why she’s important in this discussion.”

“You know, fair enough.” Grian started. He opened his mouth to say more, but suddenly the ceiling collapsed, leaving rubble and dust everywhere. Grian was left coughing and trying to blink the dust out of his eyes to see where Grumbot was after what happened, but instead, the first thing he noticed was the person lying on top of the rubble. “Wh- Zedaph?”

“Hi Grian!” Zed waved, coughing a little. “Sorry for crashing in like this. I probably need to get back to the others.”

“Who else is here?”

[kurt-nightcrawler]

Fairytale

Warren Worthington III x Female Reader

Request 1: Omg I just read the I have a boyfriend and the opposites attract and I'm aksjksjeje. Idk if ur taking requests, but in case u are I need more on that mother nature reader and Warren pleaaaaseee!!! Maybe something with angst, like some conflict in their relationship, but with a happy would be greatttttt I absolutely love ur writing

Request 2: Hi love!:D idk if you’re taking requests or if you’re in the works of smth, but like, I’ve had this idea in my head about your fic of Mother Nature with what she said about the weather affecting her. Like it’s winter season or smth and the sun has not been out for days (and maybe Ororo is not around to help??) so she’s feeling weak and Warren is doing all he can so she can get better🥺 I reaally love your writing💕 💕

Warnings: swearing and angst

Word Count: 12.5k

“How long will you be gone?”

“A few weeks. We should be back before December 21st.” 

(Y/N) huffed, that was almost two weeks, plus the holidays were coming up. “Stay safe, okay? All I want for Christmas is you.” 

Warren rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead, “I already got you a gift.” 

(Y/N) thanked him and he just held her tighter. 

-

Warren went on a mission with Raven, Alex, Kurt, Ororo, and Jean. They were going to Italy to stop some mafia mutant issue. “Which is stupid,” Scott retorted. “We live in New York. Surely the mafia isn’t only terrorizing mutants in Italy.” 

(Y/N) shrugged, “Probably.” 

Her mind wandered as Jubilee talked to Scott about their final for Dr. McCoy. I need to water the plants in the greenhouse. (Y/N) yawned, she felt a sudden wave of drowse come over herself. I’ve been so tired lately… 

It wasn’t a mystery why (Y/N) had been so tired lately. It was because of the weather. The earlier it got dark, the less energy she had— and with it getting colder, her abilities were limited. Most of the plants in her room had gone dormant. (Y/N) was worried she would too, but it hadn’t gotten cold enough. 

“I think we should go skating tomorrow,” Jubilee suggested. 

“Just the four of us?” Peter asked. 

“Do you see anyone else? They’re all in Italy.” Peter squinted his eyes at Jubilee as she was sarcastic. “The rink is open, it’s December, and I’m bored! I wanna pick up cute girls.” 

“Isn’t ice skating like a go-to in Hallmark Christmas movies?” Scott asked. 

“Why do you know that?” Jubilee asked. 

“We watch those all the time on nights with the boys,” Peter explained. “They’re awful and all the same. There was one where a girl was in love with a ghost and another where a girl texted her dead mom to grieve… I’m so lucky I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

(Y/N) laughed, hallmark Christmas films were pretty cheesy and cliche. 

“I mean yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go skating, or do something. Everyone is gone and we need to stay active.” 

Peter and Scott both looked at Jubilee with confusion. “But we’re all in pretty good shape.”

“No, I mean (Y/N),” She whispered to the boys. 

“What’s wrong with her? She looks fine.” Scott said, quickly checking her out as she was preoccupied with her phone. 

“Around winter, she tends to get weaker cause it’s colder and the sun goes down earlier…”

“Yeah… We know…”

“No, you guys don’t get it. During the winter plants go into like, hibernation— and if it gets too cold and (Y/N) falls asleep she’ll go dormant. The only safe places are her room and an area set up in the lab.” 

“We have to keep her awake all winter?” Peter asked curiously.

“No, we just have to make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom and stays there. It’s the only ace place because it’s like a greenhouse sort of…”

“What happens if we don’t?...”

“She could die!” 

“Who could die?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Scarlett Johanson’s stunt-double. I mean have you seen the new Black Widow trailer?” Jubilee asked without missing a beat.

“Eh, I dunno. She’s a professional, plus stunt-doubles are kind of expected to get hurt… while it’s not preferable an innocent gets hurt,... they did sign up for it.” 

“I never thought of it like that…” Scott said almost seeing off-handed while trying to noticeably glare at Jubilee. 

“Well, I’ve got to go. I promised Catherine I’d help make gingerbread cookies.” Everyone wished (Y/N) some form of goodbye, or have fun, leaving them alone.

“(Y/N) is going to die?!” Peter almost screamed. 

“No! No, no— (Y/N) is not going to die. She’s done this longer than I’ve known her. I think she was like, thirteen when these first started happening. I didn’t know (Y/N) until we were 15, but still.” Jubilee continued on,  “She’ll either pass out randomly in the middle of December or January and hibernate until March or April, or she won’t go dormant and just have to spend most of the spring outside, like soaking up the sunshine or whatever. “

“Oh, okay. So this is normal. Great. (Y/N) might fucking die every winter and we just have to act like children on thin ice? Deal with it somehow?” Peter looked like he was freaking out. 

“I said she’s been doing this for years, plus she hasn’t died yet. We’ll be fine.”

Scott’s gut was telling him something different, but he blamed that on his constant anxiety. 

-

Five days after Warren left

(Y/N), Scott, Peter, and Jubilee all went ice skating. Jubilee and Peter attempted to spy on cute girls, while Scott tried to act perfect, and (Y/N) tried her best to not lean against the wall too much. It was fun, but indoor rinks are as cold as the outside ones. (Y/N) bundled up enough, but she still got chills. 

Scott took everyone to some artsy coffee shop that Jean adored. He claimed they had a killer hot chocolate. Jubilee already tried it once before, being Jean’s best friend/roommate. Peter thought it was kind of watery and not that great, and (Y/N) didn’t think it was bad but… 

“You overhyped it. It’s good though.” Scott pouted, and Peter laughed through Twinkie bites and hot chocolate sips. (Y/N) felt warm and fuzzy inside. Almost… sleepy…

Her mind started to drift… Warren… everything they’d do when he got back from Italy… 

Their first winter holiday together… all the shitty hallmark movies we can watch with Scott and Peter… the—

“(Y/N)!”

“Huh?!” She rubbed her eyes and tried to seem awake. “What is it?”

“You were dozing off there,” Scott pointed out. 

“Oh.” She scratched her head. “Sorry. Haha,” Her laugh was somewhat sarcastic. “Just don’t let me, uh… Don’t let me pass out. Wouldn’t wanna get nicknamed Sleeping Beauty.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Peter joked.

-

Nine days after Warren left

Peter taught everyone, or attempted to, teach everyone how to make a seven-layered cake. Jubilee and Scott kept sneaking batter, while (Y/N) was struggling to not use her powers. 

“Okay, but like, I could get sugar from a plant or—“

“No!” Jubilee protested, batter on the corner of her mouth. “We— we have all these ingredients here. Why waste them?” 

(Y/N) squinted her eyes, they were a bit purple, but she let it slide and grabbed sugar and other dry ingredients from the cabinets. 

“If she uses too much strength she could pass out. It’s been snowing hard for the past two days, and it’s been cloudy all week.” 

“Can’t she eat a protein bar or drink some coffee or something?” Peter whispered. 

Jubilee shook her head, “No, she needs vitamin D. Like, from the sun. More than a normal person does.” 

(Y/N) set the sugar on the counter and looked at the recipe from Peter’s mom, reading bits out loud, “We need 2 and 1⁄4 cups of sugar.” She looked at the measuring cups, trying to find the one she needed. 

“Hey, Scott! We agreed no phones out,” Jubilee scolded him. 

He rolled his eyes, “You sound like a teacher… I was just checking a package I ordered…”

“If you actually bought that $200 lightsaber you were telling me about,” (Y/N) joked, “I will scream.” 

Peter scoffed, “Please, Jean got him that for Christmas.” His face fell soon as the words left his mouth. “Shit…” 

“No, she didn’t. We had a budget and—“ Jubilee and Peter both looked at their feet, eyes wide and sheepish. “I am not worth $200.” 

“You sound like Warren,” Jubilee complained, cracking eggs into a separate bowl. 

“It’s true! I don’t want her to spend money on me.” He glanced at his phone again.

“She’s not going to text you. No one is allowed to bring phones on missions, because the government can like, track you and shit.” Peter reminded him. 

“I know, I know… but what if something happened? What if someone died or they got stuck and stranded and—“

(Y/N) put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, “Calm down Romeo. They’re going to be fine. If something happens, Xavier will let us know.” Scott nodded, trying to believe (Y/N) was right. 

-

Fifteen Days after Warren left

(Y/N) was getting sick and tired. Tired of her friends never leaving her alone, the panic on their faces if she so much as yawned or rubbed her eyes, she was sick of them being so nervous. More so Scott and Peter than Jubilee. 

Of course, they meant well, and just wanted to make sure she didn’t fall into a coma, but she didn’t need to be doted over like a tropical plant lost in the arctic. 

(Y/N) huffed as she messed with her hair in the bathroom mirror. Her leaves looked less colorful, more brown and dead, the vines around her legs were gone, and her eyes looked like she hadn’t been sleeping. She had, but it was hard, the sun went down at 5 PM, and it was cloudy and cold every day it seemed. 

I just want Warren here. He’d make everything better. We could cuddle and nap together…

(Y/N)’s turned blue and red as she stopped daydreaming and ran her toothbrush underwater. 

By nature, (Y/N) was not a gossip girl or a secret keeper— people saw her as a Disney princess, a few of the younger students even called her “Mother Nature”... but she had ruined her status by lying to the person she cared about most. 

She didn’t tell Warren about her dormant state, about how she could sleep until possibly March. She wanted to stay awake and active all winter. She wanted to spend her time with her angel. 

But he was in Italy fighting crime, and wouldn’t be back until mere days before Christmas. 

She had to be awake for Christmas and New Year’s. After that, it didn’t matter. 

Wait. Then she remembered Valentine’s Day. 

I have to be awake for that too. And Warren’s birthday… I can’t miss those… She made herself a promise she wouldn’t go dormant this winter. 

She glanced out the window as she scrubbed her teeth with the toothbrush. It was snowing again, thick heavy flakes came down almost in chunks. 

-

Twenty Days after Warren left

(Y/N) accidentally drank out of Peter’s cup without realizing it for about thirty minutes. Why did it matter?

Peter had caffeine in his soda, and (Y/N) did not. She was planning to go to bed in her room, and wake up when the sun rose to conserve energy. 

Now, she was staying up late with her friends, watching some crappy zombie movie on late-night TV.

“They could easily just move to an island. Use the old man’s boat. The zombies can’t swim!” (Y/N) argued during a commercial break. 

“Yeah, but there’s never any logic in these things.” Peter drowsed. 

“I guess so. It’s kind of dumb though…” 

Peter shrugged and took a sip of his drink, “Yeah, but it’s like Sharknado. They make money, it doesn’t matter if it’s bad or not.” 

(Y/N) didn’t retaliate, as the final commercial ended and the screen faded to black, signaling the movie was back on. 

-

Scott couldn’t remember when he fell asleep. He rubbed his eyes and tried to see who was all around him. 

Peter was passed out on the floor for some reason, Jubilee was asleep on one side of the couch… and Scott saw (Y/N), passed out with her head laying on a pillow. 

“Shit! (Y/N)!” He shook her, trying to get a reaction, but nothing happened. He repeated her name trying to undo her slumber until the other two woke. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, hair tussled and eyes half-closed. 

“(Y/N) fell asleep on the couch!” Scott was panicking. He had one job— one job from Jubilee, “Make sure she only falls asleep in her bedroom or else she won’t wake up until March.”

 “Scott! Stop it!” Jubilee pulled him away from (Y/N)’s sleeping figure. “You could kill her!” 

“What—” He turned to Jubilee, “What do we do then?” 

“Peter, get Professor McCoy up here.” 

“But it’s 4 AM…” Jubilee gave him a deadly glare and he sped off. 

Scott was ordered to sit and be quiet while Peter got McCoy. 

“She fell asleep. She drank some of my soda earlier, causing her to not be tired. We thought we could get her sleepy by watching a movie, but we all fell asleep before she did…” Peter was giving Hank a 30-second recap, with 3000 words. 

“Peter, everything’s going to be fine.” Hank carefully scooped (Y/N) up in his arms, bridal style. He looked her over up close. Her skin looked pale, the leaves and flowers in her hair were gone, all that was left were dried twigs, and the vines usually wrapped around her legs were concealed by sweatpants, so he couldn’t take note on them. “I’m taking her to the medical bay. Everyone go to sleep, you can come back in the morning…” Hank glanced at the time, “You can come back later.” 

-

The three mutants walked to their rooms quietly. Jubilee made a stop at a bathroom to brush her teeth, while Peter and Scott went straight to their dorm. 

Peter used his speed to get changed and hop in bed. “I’ll leave the light on while you get changed.” Scott didn’t answer, he didn’t move. “Scott?”

“What if she dies?” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Jubilee said she’s been doing this for years, (Y/N)‘s not gonna die.” Scott still didn’t move, causing Peter to sit up and face his roommate better. “Everything will be okay. McCoy knows what to do, and this is no different than when bears go hibernate for the winter or when geese fly south. She’ll be fine.” 

“We don’t know that. If something interrupts her she could die—“ 

“She won’t.” Peter knew he knew, what Scott was thinking. Scott did what anyone would have done. Tried to jostle her awake, he didn’t know what else to do. 

“Do you know what it’s like?...” 

Peter hadn’t the slightest idea what Scott was referencing, he kept his mouth shut, trying to figure it out. 

“To have almost killed someone? Your parents arguing with theirs, lawsuits being threatened, your life could end before theirs and the doctors think they’re on borrowed time… How you know you deserve to be punished, and instead you’re just sent away, to be with more family and start new. You try to be better than you ever were, and people— they believe it. You deserve everything you’ve worked for… and then you go and fuck up! It’s one thing to have your mutation surface and have chunks of ceiling and a bathroom door put a school bully in a coma— but to hurt someone like (Y/N)?...” Scott’s voice trembled. His cheeks were covered in his tears. “If anything happens it’s going to be my fault. Warren’s going to blame me because everyone talks me up about how responsible I am and all these leadership qualities I have, that I actually don’t. Warren is going to kill me if she doesn’t wake up—“ He choked out a sob. 

Peter was quick to wrap the boy in his arms. “Hey, hey… shh… shh… You didn’t hurt her. She’s going to be fine. Hank picked her up and carried her to his lab and she did fine. You shaking her didn’t do anything.” Scott continued weeping. 

“How about you take a shower, and then we can go see her, okay?” Peter talked slower than ever before and with softness, enough to be gentle, but not so much you’d think Scott was a child. 

He nodded, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Okay, come on buddy…” 

-

Hank had carefully dressed her in a hospital gown and hooked her up to various equipment. Everything seemed normal for her coma-like state. He didn’t wake her up carrying her downstairs. 

Hank sat down in a chair next to her. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what to do. 

This had happened before, but Hank just kept her in his lab and he wouldn’t do anything until she woke up. Sometimes students would visit to see how she was doing… Most of the time they’d just whisper and watch her for a few minutes before leaving, some made jokes about how she needed Prince Charming to kiss and wake her up. 

Hank hesitated allowing Charles tell the team what happened. They wouldn’t be back for another week, and he didn’t want to cause a distraction for them. 

“Hey Doc,” Peter waved. Scott was standing next to him. 

Hank quickly put his glasses back on and stood up. “What are you doing awake? You should be asleep.” 

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured we could come by, see how (Y/N)’s doing.” 

“Yeah— she’s doing fine. Vitals are steady and her heartbeat is regular. All we have to do is wait.” Hank faked some optimism. He knew why they were there, and she was fine— except, Hank had no idea when she’d awake. 

“Did you tell Xavier what happened?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, he knows. He said there’s nothing we can do until she wakes up. We have the option to wake her and keep her in the green room, but that’s easier said than done…” Scott looked pale. Hank cursed to himself for freaking the kid out. “Trust me, this is the best option for her.” Scott nodded. 

“Yeah… “ Peter tried to distract him. “Why don’t we eat some leftover cake?” 

“I’m not hungry Pete,” Scott answered.

“Well I am, and you’re not going to mope around down here. It’ll like, give (Y/N) a bad vibe. Come on.” Scott sighed and followed Peter out of the med bay. 

-

Twenty four days after Warren left

Warren was exhausted, Everyone was. The mission went smoothly, or smoothly as it could, considering the number of minor injuries everyone bore. 

“We’ve got a few more hours until we’re home,” Alex announced, checking in on the younger X-Men.

Ororo, Jean, and Kurt were playing go fish. Warren was watching, contributing nothing to the game but sarcastic comments and jokingly-judgemental looks. 

“Great, thanks,” They replied. 

Alex nodded and walked back to his seat in the cockpit. He pulled something small and rectangular out of his pocket. Warren carefully watched from the corner of his eye. 

Is that a cell phone? 

Cell phones weren’t allowed on missions. They were distractions, not to mention out of rage cellular fees were expensive— plus with modern technology comes tracking. Having something as minor as a cellphone on a mission could jeopardize the whole operation simply because someone wanted to use google maps and see where the nearest Starbucks was. 

“Alex?” 

“Yeah?” He stuck the object in his pocket. 

“What is that?” Warren kept his down, as to not alert the others.

“What?” 

“The thing in your pocket. What is it?” 

“Warren—“

Warren was pissed. “It’s a cellphone isn’t it?”

“It’s a burner phone. In case of an emergency—“

“Why’d you take it out?” 

“Hank texted me.” 

“Oh, great.” Warren spat, “You bring a phone on missions in case you miss your little boyfriend.” 

“Warren—“

“No!” He spoke out. At this point, everyone was watching. “You don’t get to break the rules and endanger the mission!”

“Warren, calm down.” 

“You can’t tell me—“ 

“Someone at the mansion got hurt, bird brain. That’s why Alex’s using the burner to text Hank.” Raven rolled her eyes. Dramatic much?

“What?”

No one knew this, not even Jean. They all tuned into the conversation. 

“Who did?”

“What happened?” 

“Everything’s fine.”Alex lied.

“No, it’s not. You wouldn’t be texting Hank if it was.”

Jean discreetly put two fingers to her temple, trying to figure out who got hurt. Raven saw her and glared, mentally telling her to stop.

“Sorry.”

“Everyone settle down. We have a few hours left until we’re back in Westchester. Just chill out until then.” 

Warren rolled his eyes and sat by himself, thinking Raven’s little distraction speech was stupid. 

He couldn’t help it— acting all childish— he missed (Y/N) and he really hated having to share a bed with Kurt on missions. Kurt’s tail got all tangled and Warren’s wings were cramped. 

It was different from when he’d cuddle with (Y/N). He’d wrap his wings around her, and she’d grow flowers in her sleep around them. It was soothing… He’d wake up refreshed, and looking at his wonderful girlfriend. Kurt was… a major downgrade… he was a decent roommate, but he couldn’t stand him as a bedmate. 

Warren yawned, making a note to sleep for ten years and hold (Y/N) while he did it, once he got back home. 

-

The basketball court came into view, and the ground caved in, letting Raven land the Jet in its hangar. Alex announced they were back and free to get off the ship. The rest of the team hastily grabbed their bags and ran out of the X-Jet. 

Outside waiting for them was Jubilee, Peter, and Scott. Hank wasn’t there.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Warren teased Alex. 

He didn’t respond.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Jean mocked Warren.

Warren did a double-take as Peter and Jubilee spoke to Raven and Ororo. (Y/N) wasn’t there. 

“Hey, guys.” The three that stayed behind looked up with guilty expressions on their face as soon as they looked at Warren. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked. 

No answer.

Warren asked again, but more concerned, “Guys, where’s (Y/N)?” 

“She’s not dead—“ Jubilee hit Peter and scolded him.

“What does that mean?” 

The group exchanged nervous eye contact. They weren’t sure how to explain it, but if they didn’t Warren was probably going to attempt murder. 

“She’s in what Hank calls a ‘dormant state’. Basically hibernation—“ Warren’s face visibly paled. “Except waking her up is way more complicated…” 

“So she’s in a coma?...” He asked.

“Yeah, basically…” Jubilee admitted.

“How did this happen?” 

“(Y/N)’s mutation, I thought she told you…”

“Told me what?” Jubilee didn’t answer him. “What, Jubilee?”

Alex put his hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Maybe Hank should explain it…”

-

“So she won’t wake up until March?” 

“April at the latest,” Hank answered. 

“And you let this happen?” He turned to Jubilee, Scott, and Peter. They were terrified of what Warren might do. 

“No, no, they didn’t,” Hank defended them. “Her body just does this. It’s no different than that time of month…” 

“A period isn’t four months long,” Warren mumbled. 

“Let’s give him a moment alone with her.” Hank ushered everyone out, shutting the door behind him. 

Warren sank in the chair next to (Y/N)’s body. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Fuck,” He mumbled. “Fuck, fuck,” Tears welled in his eyes. “Fuck!” He screamed. He put his fist up to his mouth to muffle his sobs. 

“How could… Why didn’t she tell me?” Warren looked at (Y/N)’s figure. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” 

Warren felt his heart breaking. She looked so… so dead. 

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t dead but she wouldn’t wake until March.

 It was December. 

“Hank said… he said, we could wake you up, but there’s a chance you’ll die. And I’d rather have you like this than dead…” He turned away and mouthed cursed under his breath. 

Warren didn’t know what to do. Sure, he wasn’t necessarily one of those clingy boyfriends, whose only life purpose is to serve his girlfriend… but he really liked her. 

He wanted to spend more time with her than he ever could. She understood when he had nightmares or needed space. They never fought— their biggest disagreement was on a stupid homework problem. 

She made earrings out of some of his metal feathers, he learned how to take care of all kinds of plants. She showed him how to be compassionate and kind, he showed her how to be assertive and throw a decent punch. 

Peter teased him all the time, saying he was “in loooove,” dragged out o and everything. He’d always tell him to shut up or piss off. 

Because maybe he was in love with her. 

“But I’m her first boyfriend.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be her first love.” 

“That means I’ll hurt her…” Warren’s voice cracked. “I don’t wanna hurt her…” 

He didn’t know she’d hurt him.

-

Warren wasn’t allowed to sit at (Y/N)’s side all day, or even all week. He had work to make up for when he was in Italy— homework, mid-terms, laundry, post-mission exam— not to mention Christmas was in five days.

He tried to keep himself busy in the first two days, and he overachieved everything he had to do. Which inevitably, left him with nothing to do. 

“God, you look miserable,” Peter commented when Warren made his way into the kitchen, bags under his eyes, messy bed-head hair, sweatpants hung low, and a wrinkly t-shirt. 

“I stayed up, deep cleaning my closet. I’ve got some stuff I’m gonna donate.” 

“That’s nice.” Jean curtly commented. 

Nobody knew what to say. They weren’t sure what would trigger Warren. 

“We were all gonna see Knives Out,” Scott said. “A day off for everyone, chance to get last-minute gifts…” 

“Not interested.” Warren poured himself a bowl of cornflakes. 

“Come on,” Jubilee almost begged. “You haven’t left the mansion at all in the past few days.” 

“I have stuff to do.” He poured milk into his bowl. 

“Warren, you deep cleaned your closet at midnight. You have nothing to do and this will keep you occupied for a while.” Jubilee pointed out.

He was tired, “I don’t want to leave the mansion. What if something happens—“ 

“(Y/N)’s going to be fine.” 

Warren held his spoon tightly in his fist. “That’s what I thought before I went to Italy— Look at her now! She’s in a coma.”

“She’ll wake up in the spring,” Kurt offered up to calm Warren down. 

“This could have been prevented. I should have been here—“ Warren felt himself breakdown. He started crying, and no one knew what to do. Ororo got up from her seat and hugged him. He sobbed into her shoulder. 

Ororo gave him words of comfort, “It’s okay, this is normal for her. Distance will do you good. Everything’s going to be okay… You should get out, get fresh air.” 

Warren nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “Uh-huh.” 

“Come see the movie with us,” She suggested. 

“Okay, yeah… I’ll— I’ll go get ready.” He put his bowl in the sink and went out of the kitchen.

“Holy shit.” Peter’s eyes were wide with shock. “He’s a mess!” 

Jubilee swatted him with her hand, “Hush! He’s clearly upset… His girlfriend’s in hibernation until March.” 

“Yeah, but like, he just started crying,” Peter stated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Warren cry before… He just looked so broken, like, holy shit. I don’t think I was that upset when I got cheated on by my girlfriend, junior year on prom night…”  The worst part is, we could have prevented this.” 

“I think I’m gonna puke,” Scott mumbled. 

“Hey!” Ororo chasted the two boys. “I don’t care what happened while we were gone, but you’re both acting pathetic. This is no one’s fault! Get your heads out of your asses and be there for Warren.” 

“We should wake her up…” Everyone looked at Scott like he was crazy. 

“And risk killing her?” Ororo asked. 

“Yeah, no,” Peter answered. “Romeo may follow suit.” 

-

Warren didn’t want to go outside, but he needed to keep busy, or else he’d start crying again. 

He was a mess— he knew Kurt was tired of him staying up all night, doing anything and everything to keep busy… but when he closed his eyes he was face to face with nightmares— (Y/N)’s practically lifeless body lying in the hospital bed, her never waking up, or if she did she’d have amnesia and not remember anyone. 

Warren couldn’t sleep, but staying up all night would eventually take its toll on him, or he’d run out of things to do. 

Warren got changed and quickly ran downstairs to the medical bay. He wanted to check on (Y/N) before he left. 

“How is she?” 

“Same as she has been for the past few days,” Hank answered. “Everything’s normal, and she’s doing fine— great actually.” 

Warren nodded, “Um, I just wanted to see how she was doing. I’m going out with the other X-Men… we’re seeing Knives Out… Ororo said it’d be a good idea for me to get out of the mansion.” 

Hank blinked and then frowned in thought. “Yeah, she’s right. However, you seem to be doing really well, considering the situation. You haven’t spent all your time down here, but you do visit. You haven’t acted out with a huge wave of impulse emotions, but getting out for a little bit would be great for you.” 

Warren bit his tongue, holding back from telling Hank the truth about how he was doing. “Yeah… I’ll um, see you later.” 

-

Warren zoned out in the middle of the movie for a few minutes and had to ask Kurt what happened. 

“Police chased them down.” 

“Ah, okay.” Warren nodded. He glanced at his other friends. Scott had an arm around Jean, and they were cuddling, practically on top of each other, in the big recliners. Jubilee bought sour patch kids and was sharing the bag with Ororo. Peter and Kurt were really engrossed in the movie, and Warren was just kind of there… 

He was lonely— The movie was good, and he was enjoying it— but Warren as a whole was lonely.

He put up the hard “I don’t need anybody,” exterior to protect himself from hurt. His poor relationship with his parents caused him to be cautious and made it hard for him to develop a steady healthy relationship with any authority figures in his life. His cage fighting days taught him, he was alone, and nobody was ever going to love him, and he’d have to fight to get anywhere in life. 

Obviously, that proved to be false— he found confinement in Alex, (and sometimes Hank), as the older brother he never had. The community in the mansion proved he didn’t have to be so alone, and (Y/N) made him realize love is not some made-up fantasy, concocted in Disney’s headquarters. 

(Y/N) felt like his best friend on most occasions, and while he had all his other friends, her being gone made him feel so empty inside. 

-

On Christmas Eve he moped around in Scott and Peter’s room, one earbud in listening to sad music.

Scott wasn’t even there— he was doing God knows what with Jean, and Peter was playing Pac-Man. 

“You can hang out with me tomorrow if you want. I don’t celebrate Christmas.” 

“I’m good.” Warren knew Peter would probably run home and mess around with his sisters and mom, or awkwardly hang around the mansion, trying to find Erik and tell him about their relationship. 

“Dude,” He awkwardly chuckled. “Okay, look— um, I know, nothing I say can fix the situation, but if you want to talk I’m here.” 

Warren paused his music. “What was the last thing she said?”

Peter was awestruck, “She’s not dead!” 

“I know—“

“She’s in a coma that she’s going to wake up from! She didn’t die.”

“I know that! I just want to know what she said before she went into the coma…” 

Peter felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. Warren seemed so defeated, like a kicked puppy. “We were watching a crappy zombie movie on tv… and it was like, really bad, and we were mostly complaining about how bad it was. The last thing I remember was she said something about how the prosthetics sucked and she could have done it better with some mint leaves and slime.” 

The corner of Warren’s lip rose up slightly. Typical (Y/N), but she was probably right. 

“Wanna play Pac-Man with me?” 

Warren sat up, “Sure.” 

-

“He just started crying, like— I’ve never seen anyone so upset, and I thought you were dead at one point!” Scott was frazzled in Hank’s lab with Alex, Jubilee, Jean, Ororo, and Kurt. 

“He seemed fine when he came down to visit her the other day.” Scott gave Hank a disbelieving look. “Well if he’s crying over little things, obviously he’s extremely stressed out and I’m not going to push him.” 

Scott glanced in the direction of (Y/N)’s area in the lab, “Maybe we should wake her up.”

“Are you crazy?!” Jubilee asked. “She could die from that—“

“She probably won’t though… (Y/N) being unconscious has made Warren, everyone on edge.”

“You want an easy way out of this,” Jubilee raised her voice as she kept speaking, “If you really cared about how Warren was, you’d be trying to comfort him best you can despite your half-assed friendship!”

“It’s our fault she’s like this, Jubes! We were supposed to make sure she didn’t fall asleep anywhere besides her room, and we couldn’t do it.” 

“Scott, she was getting weaker every day, this would have happened no matter what—“

His voice got louder, yet he was practically shaking, “No, we had the most simple task in the world! And we couldn’t do it! We’re the X-Men and we couldn’t even keep a girl from falling asleep!”

Jean hugged Scott, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s not your fault. She does this every year— and it’s not like you ignored her.”

“What if it was you instead? I’d be just like Warren…”

“Don’t say that—” She kissed the top of his head. “You’d be fine.” 

“I think we should discuss this with Warren and the Professor before we do anything, drastic.” Hank’s final words were clearly aimed at Scott. 

-

“We can wake her up…” 

Everyone was still in the lab, but this time Warren and Professor Xavier were present. Warren didn’t move, he was focused on what Hank was telling him and what it actually meant. 

“But… she could die if not done correctly. Waking up an animal early out of hibernation could kill it, but getting a plant out of its dormant season would just weaken it, if done too quickly though, it could kill the plant.” 

“Hank,” Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I thought we agreed, when (Y/N) goes dormant, we do not disturb her. We agreed with her parents several years ago.” 

“Yeah, but that was when she was a kid. She’s older now, and everyone’s distraught. Her boyfriend—“

“Oh, please,” Charles scoffed. “If I got on my knees and tried to align the stars every time Erik got hurt, there wouldn’t even be a school.” 

“Cut the crap. You and Erik fight and make up like some divorced couple in a soap opera. When Erik gets hurt, you’re always the first to know.” 

Xavier didn’t say anything out loud, he just glared. 

“Um, personally, uh, sorry,” Warren awkwardly cut in. “I think if (Y/N) might die if we wake her up, then it’s not worth it. And if her parents agreed, letting her sleep is the best thing, then it probably is.” 

Warren didn’t even want to think about her folks. Could you imagine? Their daughter dies because some dumb goth boy couldn’t handle her taking a three-month-long nap without him. Yeah, that’d impress them.

Charles clapped his hands together, “Well, there! It’s settled then. (Y/N) is fine as she is. I know this is upsetting for her to not be present around the holidays, but we can all assume she would want us to have fun and be kind to others, showing compassion and always helping those in need.”

-

Warren couldn’t sleep. He was restless in bed— too hot, then too cold, he’d have the beginnings of a nightmare or no dream at all— he was sure Kurt would have kicked him out by now if he hadn’t made the decision to sleep in Peter and Scott’s room for the night. 

His tossing and turning made him have to pee. He got up and went over to the bathroom. 

Looking in the mirror as he dried his hands he sighed. Warren looked so tired, but he didn’t know what to do. 

For the first time since Germany, he truly felt alone. 

-

He grabbed the two gifts stored under his bed and he quietly walked down the halls. 

None of the doors were locked, it was almost too easy for him to get into Hank’s lab. 

He flicked on the light switch, even though he didn’t need to. Her sleeping figure made his heart almost burst out of his chest. Warren felt so awkward standing there. 

He set the gifts down on a chair and walked over to (Y/N). 

“Hi…” No response. “Um, I don’t know if you can hear me… but like, Jubilee and Kurt watch all those soaps and they always have characters talking to people in comas so I figured, maybe, just maybe, you could hear something… anyway, um… I miss you. I really miss you and I wish you’d said something about all this…” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been trying to keep myself busy, with homework and chores and training. It’s been driving Kurt crazy that I’m up all the time, but I can’t sleep most nights…”

He paused for a moment, for the thought of, Am I crazy? Flashed through his brain. 

“I got you that fancy water filtered you wanted for Christmas… along with some mollisol soil in a jar…” He huffed in amusement while glancing at the gifts. “Peter made fun of me. He said, “No girl wants a jar of dirt for Christmas.” But I know you’d be happy with it— trying to divide it equally among every plant in your room, your eyes lighting up when you see improvements in them…” Warren looked at (Y/N) and smiled sadly. 

“We haven’t even been dating for a whole year, but it feels like it’s been forever…” His eyes watered and his voice faltered, “And that’s love… Isn’t it?... Everyone tells me something different, but— I think I love you. No— I know I love you. I love you and, and, I don’t know… I don’t know what I’ll do while you’re here. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and see everyone all happy like nothing’s wrong— or Scott kissing Jean when he thinks no one’s looking if I can’t put my arm around you and pull you closer and give him a look that states we’re a cuter couple…” Warren almost laughed at himself. His dumb competition with Scott. 

“I know you’d want me to pretend like nothing’s wrong because it isn’t— but it is… I don’t know what to do…”

-

Kurt knocked on the door of his room the next morning. “Warren! Merry Christmas!” No response. 

“I need to brush my teeth.” Still no answer. 

Kurt opened the door himself, “Warren?” The room was empty. “Where are you?” 

“Hey, Kurt,” Scott peaked in, still in pajamas. “Everything alright?”

“Warren’s gone.” 

“He’s probably downstairs already. Peter and Jubilee are, I bet he’s with them.” 

“Oh. You’re probably right.” Scott bid him goodbye and went to Jean’s room. Kurt still couldn’t get the feeling that Scott was wrong out of his system. 

-

Hank and Alex were headed down to the lab, giggling and acting like kids sneaking around. 

“Alex,” Hank breathed in between laughs, “I just wanna check on (Y/N).” 

“I know,” He managed between the kisses he left all over Hank’s neck. 

“Give me five minutes. Then we can join the others.” 

Alex frowned as Hank opened the door. “I want to be alone with you.” 

“Wasn’t this morning enough?” Hank joked. 

Alex rolled his eyes and hugged Hank from behind. 

Hank smiles and walked into the med Bay Area, where (Y/N) was put. 

He was shocked, to say the least. Alex too. 

“Did he wake her?” Alex whispered. 

“I don’t think so. Her heart rate hasn’t changed.”

Alex gently shook Warren’s shoulder, “Hey, kid, time to get up.” 

He groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light. “Mmmmhmmmggg…” 

“Merry Christmas.” Hank teased as he looked over (Y/N)’s vitals. 

“Shit.” Warren rubbed his eyes, “Did I fall asleep?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When did you come down here? I went upstairs at around eleven.” Hank commented. 

“You got into our room at 11:37 PM.” Alex corrected him. 

“Uhh, I don’t remember…” Warren was too tired to think. He wanted to get something to eat and go back to bed. He didn’t want to see everyone messing around the tree Charles got the younger students to set up. He wanted to go back to sleep right in bed with (Y/N), but he knew Hank wouldn’t let him. 

“Everyone’s upstairs,” Hank said.

“I know,” Warren said back.

Alex was preoccupied with his phone. Scott kept texting him where he was— for being the younger brother, he acted like an older one.

“Look, uh, I don’t want to overstep anything—” Hank said somewhat quietly to Warren. “I know we’re not that close, but—“

Warren shot him down, “I don’t need to talk to anyone. But thanks for the offer, Hank.” 

Hank pushes his glasses up his nose, “No, it’s not that… When Alex was presumed dead, and we found his body and he was in a coma… I was an emotional wreck. I spent all my time down here, worried he’d wake up any second, or never wake up, or wake up and not remember who I am… We weren’t even dating at the time. I was just so heartbroken because I wasted literal decades avoiding him and my feelings and— sorry. Sorry. I got off track… the point is, I get it. I’m not going to judge you for coming down at night to sleep with her.” 

“Just, just don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” 

Hank nodded understandingly. 

“Whatcha guys talking about?” Alex got up and wrapped an arm around Hank. 

“How much I love you,” Hank stated matter of factly. 

Alex chuckled and kissed Hank’s cheek. “Don’t bother him with that. I’m sure Warren doesn’t want to hear you talk about our relationship.” 

“I don’t care,” Warren told him. 

“Still— go upstairs. Scott and Kurt think you got kidnapped or something.” 

“Alright, alright,” Warren had to laugh, “I will.” 

“We’ll meet you up there.” 

Neither of the older men spoke until the door shut. 

“He loves her.” 

“Hmm?” Alex looked at Hank curiously. 

“Warren, he loves (Y/N).” Alex hummed in agreement.

“They’re good for each other.” 

-

Warren walked into the common room while chaos was in full motion. 

Kurt was teleporting from place to place in the room, Ororo was focusing on making it snow outside, surprisingly, Peter was asleep on the couch, and Jean and Scott were cuddled under a blanket by the fireplace, obviously feeling each other up.

“Warren!” Kurt jumped down and landed at his feet. “Where have you been?”

He shrugged, “Workout.” 

“Okay…” Kurt wasn’t convinced, but 

“Hey, Warren! I made these brownies, they’re really good—“ She handed him one. “Here!” 

“Uh, thanks.” He took a bite out of it. Gooey. Rich chocolate flavor. Yet, it also crumbled. Not half bad. 

Warren smiled and nodded, telling Jubilee it was delicious. She was thrilled. 

After a round of greetings to everyone, Warren sat on the couch next to Peter. “There’s a present for you…” He murmured, half asleep.

Warren furrowed his brows and looked at the tree. There was one gift left. The wrapping paper was black, with two silver bows on it. Warren smiled sadly at it, as he held it in his arms.

“Aww… It’s you!” Peter teased. Warren laughed a little, before opening it. 

It was a box. Obviously, not empty. Warren removed the lid and looked through it. Inside was a disposable camera, an empty photo book, and a letter. He grabbed the letter first and read it.

Warren, 

If you’re reading this, I’m either dormant or will be soon. I didn’t tell you anything about it because I’m scared. I’m scared you’d want to break up because I’m not conscious for part of the year. To most people, I’m sure it’d be a major turn off. But as Jubilee sometimes puts it, you’re ‘a little too attached’ to me to break up with me over a long nap. :) Or at least I hope so. 

Anyway, I don’t want you moping over me the whole time, because you’ll just be sad and closed off and lose a lot of progress in your mental health. And I worry about you. I’ll be worrying about you quite a bit while I’m hibernating. 

Uh, I can also hear everything you say to me. In case you wanna chat. I can’t say anything back, but it’s nice to listen. 

I got you the camera and photobook to give you something to do. When I wake up you can catch me up on everything I missed. Take some pictures, save some memes for me, make a playlist of songs you think I’d like, movies I need to watch— Jubilee did it my first year here, and I liked it. I didn’t feel like I was wasting my time sleeping… I sometimes feel that way— I could do schoolwork, or spend time with my plants that still trudge through winter, or hang out with my friends… don’t feel sad, this is a normal bodily function… for me… You’re gonna think it sucks, which is kind of does, but I’ll try to make up for lost time… I love you…

(Y/N)

Warren couldn’t read the last few words, they’d been scratched out. He rubbed his eye, trying not to cry. 

“What’d you get?” Peter asked. 

“Uh, camera… So (Y/N)’s got photos for when she wakes up…”

“Aww…” Peter cooed. “That’s so cute— Hey guys! Let’s get a group photo!”

“Peter, I don’t— I don’t think that’s necessary—” 

“Too bad!” Peter snatched the camera from Warren’s hands and started motioning and yelling at people to get in the frame. “I used to use these all the time as a kid— these little disposable cameras. I loved them!” Peter pressed the button, and a light flashed for a moment. He turned the dial on it and then handed it back to Warren. “You know how to use these, right?” 

“Uh…” 

“Great! You’ve totally got this.” 

Peter was gone in a flash, leaving Warren alone. 

He huffed, what was he really going to do with a camera? He didn’t want to bring his girlfriend up to speed with pop culture and all the drama she missed. He wanted to live through it all with her.

But he couldn’t… 

-

Warren went back downstairs to the lab. Nobody stopped him from leaving or even asked where he was going. It was like he had no value in the group without (Y/N), just someone they tolerated, if that even. 

He wanted to scream, knowing she could hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t find his voice… no words came out… just tears… 

He fell down to the floor and cried. That’s all he could do. 

You’re so weak! Pathetic! You can’t spend a moment away from her and you cry like a fucking baby! You don’t deserve her… 

His sobs were the only things you could hear in the room.

-

New Year’s came and gone. The X-Men threw a party. Warren took a photo since he knew (Y/N) would have wanted to be there. 

He didn’t want to be there. Soon as he took his photo he wanted to leave. He never liked parties, not as a kid, not in Berlin, and not when he came to the mansion— until he started dating (Y/N). 

She got invited to several parties. Some were just dorm get-togethers with different groups of kids, others were house parties from the kids at the public school down the road, some were like this… real parties. She always wanted Warren with her when she went, and he never said no. He didn’t always enjoy them, but he didn’t mind. If (Y/N) had a good time, so did he. 

But here Warren was, moping in the corner of Xavier’s ballroom. 

-

He didn’t leave his room on Valentine’s day, despite still having classes. He trained for three hours a day, not including the group workouts and training required for all members of the X-Men. 

He volunteered to go on more missions. He didn’t want to be stuck in the mansion for more than two days at a time. No one objected, he was a valuable member of the team, and the more experience the better he would get. 

He was to go to London for three weeks with Ororo, Hank, Jean, and Scott.

Jean and Scott were excited because this just meant they’d somehow end up in a hotel room alone together at night, while everyone else was sleeping.

Warren was not too thrilled, as he was jealous. No need to sugarcoat it. Warren was jealous that Scott got Jean all 365 days of the year, that he never had to be away from her for more than a week, that they could flaunt their relationship and how happy they were together. 

It made his stomach churn, but there was nothing he could do. 

-

“I’m going to London for a few days… If I meet Harry Styles I’ll tell him you’re a fan…” (Y/N) laid in bed, lifeless. Warren tucked his hair behind his ears, making a note to get a haircut soon. “I’m going with Scott, Jean, and Ororo…” 

He hated this. He hated talking to her, knowing she could hear him but not say anything back. It was different the few days before Christmas, but now it was all just a mess. 

“Bye.” He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and walked out. 

One week. 

One week with no cell phones, no homework, nothing. Sure, Warren would probably have to punch a few bad guys, but other than that he just wanted to sleep. He didn’t really care for much anymore. He tried his best to stay engaged and involved, keep himself busy, but it was extremely challenging.

A five-hour flight, with nothing to do.

“You guys excited?” Hank asked.

“Yeah!” 

“Definitely.” 

“I’m hoping I can use some new moves Mystquie’s been teaching me.”

“Mhmm…” Warren mumbled. 

Hank glanced at him. He looked depressing. 

“We’re in London for a week, I bet we’ll have some time to do sightseeing or go out.” 

“Ooo!” Jean nudged Scott. “That’ll be fun, right babe?”

He nodded, “Oh yeah.”

Warren brought Peter’s walkman with him, and put in his earbuds and closed his eyes, assumingly taking a nap.

-

Once they arrived and checked into their rooms, Warren was still tired. He wanted to take another nap. 

“So, I think we should go out tonight—” Hank handed everyone their room keys, “—You guys have been working really hard, and not much praise is given by Alex or Raven, or Erik when he occasionally shows up… but we’re proud of you.” 

“Aww…” “Thanks, Hank…” 

Warren just offered a smile.

“We can unpack and get changed if you guys want, we can go out and get some dinner?”

Everyone thought Hank’s plan was good, and they separated into their rooms.

“You doing okay?” Scott asked while unpacking his bag. 

“Yeah… Why?”

“You didn’t say anything the whole ride here.”

“I took a nap,” Warren unzipped his bag.

“Oh.” 

“I’m not going to unexpectedly burst into tears.” Warren snapped.

“I didn’t say you were—” 

“Everyone thinks I am, I’m not stupid. I know you think I’m emotionally unstable and Hank’s been acting all nice on this mission because of it.” 

“Are you?” 

“What?” 

Scott sat down on his bed, “Are you emotionally unstable?”

Warren glared at him, “I’ve been working my ass off for this mission. I’ve trained longer and harder than anybody else. Do I look unstable to you?” 

“No! I just thought—” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna shower and get dressed for dinner.” He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

-

Hank had asked the woman at the front desk a good place to eat. She recommended some local place down the road. He rounded up the kids, despite there only being four of them.

“A night out will do us good.” 

“You’ve been saying that,” Warren mumbled. 

“You didn’t have to come you know,” Ororo stated. 

“I have nothing better to do with my time.”

Ororo kept her mouth shut, knowing she could have said something back, but knowing Warren, it was better not to.

-

The restaurant was pretty crowded, despite it being the middle of the week, but the group still managed to get a table. 

Their server was friendly. They got drinks. They ordered their food. 

“You okay, Warren?” Hank noticed he hardly touched his food.

“Mhmm… Just not that hungry. I’ll probably get a box.” 

“Oh, okay,” Hank nodded, a little unsure. 

-

They left the restaurant and went back to the hotel. Warren took his shirt off and laid on his bed. 

“I’m gonna hang out with Jean… You gonna be okay?”

Warren let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, yeah. Go have fun, Cyclops… I’m going to bed.” 

Warren couldn’t sleep. He didn’t really want to. He turned on the tv, trying to find something to watch. 

Someone knocked on the door while he was in the middle of some cooking show. Warren got up and opened his door. “Hey, Ro.” 

“Hey, Jean kicked me out. Wanna go for a swim in the pool?”

“Sure.”

He quickly got changed and followed Ororo downstairs.

The got into the elevator and were quiet at first.

“I think they have a hot tub.”

“Cool.” 

Ororo glanced at Warren and sighed. “I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

He nodded, “I know.” 

“For real. You’re allowed to talk about your feelings.”

“I don’t want to.”

Ororo sighed, “Warren…” 

 He looked back at her. “I want this all to be over.”  

“(Y/N)—”

“It’s not fair! Everyone in my life has left me or used me somehow— and I know she’s different, but it’s not fair! I was so happy with her and—” 

The elevator stopped. It wasn’t their floor. The doors opened the reveal a young woman. She had a familiar glow to her and leaves in her hair. 

Warren looked at her, feeling lightheaded at seeing her.

“(Y/N)?”

-

Warren woke up in his hotel bed. He wasn’t sure how he got there. He didn’t even remember going to the pool with Ororo. All he could remember was her. 

(Y/N).

He looked over to his left and saw Scott peacefully asleep in his bed, sleep mask on and everything. The TV was off, and so were all the lights. Warren couldn’t go back to bed, it wasn’t an option. 

He quietly got out of bed and slipped on his shoes, slowly opening the door, as to not wake Scott.

He went out to the halls. He had no plan, no idea where he was going, but he needed to get out. 

He walked around, lost in the halls late at night. He wasn’t tired, but he was upset. He didn’t want to keep crying, he didn’t want to be so dependent on (Y/N), but without her— 

The sound of thunder interrupted his thoughts. He looked outside and saw it was raining. It reminded him of (Y/N)— without her, all it did was rain and snow. 

-

Hank said they were looking for someone. Someone Xaiver wanted to bring back to the mansion. This type of mission was more stealth and would require little physical fighting. 

Hank got told from an anonymous source she’d be at some socialite gathering.

“Scott, Jean, you’re going to pretend to be some young, rich, American couple. Get in there, find our target, and get her alone. Convince her to come back with us if that doesn’t work let us know on the comms.” 

“What does she look like?” 

“Her name is Betsy Braddock—” Hank pulled up a file with all her information on his tablet. 

“What does Xavier want with her?” Warren asked, anger rising in his tone. 

Betsy… She left him to die in Egypt. She got him wrapped up in the Apocalypse cult nonsense. He didn’t want to see her again, he didn’t want to see her ever. 

“She knows something about the attacks in Italy we dealt with around Christmas, plus she’s somewhat telepathic… I know your past with her is messy, but—”

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” Everyone looked at Warren, surprised at his statement. 

“Alright. You guys know what to do— Jean, Scott, get dressed and ready for the party. I’ll get you an uber— Ororo, Warren, You guys are going to a hideout location not far from the location of the party, in case backup is needed. I’m going to stay and operate things here. 

-

The first few hours of the mission went as expected. Jean and Scott made small talk with people, trying to find Betsy. 

Warren didn’t want to see her, or more, he didn’t want her to see him in his current emotional state. But it didn’t matter what he wanted. He argued and insisted on joining this mission, and now he could see why Xavier was hesitant to let him go.

“I see her,” Jean said. “She’s not with anyone.” 

Jean’s earpiece was quiet after that. 

Warren and Ororo sat there for what felt like forever. Jean and Scott talked occasionally, but it was never directly to them. 

The young couple eventually lured Betsy into an empty room.

“You didn’t really bring me up here to sleep with me, did you?” She asked, messing with her hair in the slight reflection from a window. 

Jean shook her head, “No. But we want you to come back with us… You’ve heard of Charles Xavier…” 

Betsy nodded. 

“He wants you to help him with the attacks on the mutant community in southern Italy.” 

“What will he give me in return?” Scott and Jean exchanged a quick glance. They weren’t exactly sure. 

Scott’s voice faltered slightly, “You can…”

Jean finished his sentence. “—You can discuss that with him when we get to New York.” 

Betsy turned her head to look at them, “And what if I say no?”

“We’ll chase you down until you do,” Scott stated with more confidence than before.

“Alright. I’ll go with you.” 

-

Betsy had no idea Warren was in London, or even alive for that matter. Warren had no idea how she was going to react, and he didn’t really want to find out. 

But he didn’t really have an option. 

“Give us time to pack up and we can leave for Westchester,” Jean explained in the ride back to the hotel. 

“Who else is with you?” 

“Dr. McCoy is back at the hotel, and Ororo and Warren should be there too.” Betsy’s expression changed. “You probably know them as—”

“I know exactly who they are. I thought Warren died…”

Scott shook his head, “Nope. He’s doing great.” Scott blinked away the uncertainty hidden behind his words. 

Betsy nodded, unsure what to say. She thought about maybe jumping out of the car, and never seeing these people again. She knew Warren would be angry when he saw her. She couldn’t blame him. 

“He’s not upset with you…” Betsy looked at Jean, a bit shocked. “He’s hurting from something else… Don’t ask about it… just trust me...” 

“Easy for you to say.” Betsy scoffed.

Jean shook her head, “You’ll see…”

“We’re here.” The driver stopped the car and the three got out. 

Betsy looked up at the hotel the group was staying at, “Nice place.” 

They walked in and headed to the nearest elevator. Jean was fidgeting with the comm in her ear. 

“We got back about twenty minutes ago,” Ororo said.

“We’re on our way to our rooms,” Jean replied.

The elevator dinged, signaling it was at the destined floor.

-

They packed up quickly, and stood out in the hall, bags in hand. 

Hank introduced himself to Betsy. Her response was short, she was preoccupied with her ex-boyfriend standing less than five feet away from her. 

“Hi.”

He looked sad and more tired than usual. Seeing him sober was mind-blowing to Betsy, but people change. She hadn’t seen him in a few years— sure they saw each other during the Apocalypse incident, but that was a few days— she was really going to see him this time. 

He didn’t respond to her. She frowned. 

The plane ride was long and tedious. Betsy had nothing to do and wanted nothing more than to leave. So, she decided to try and talk to Warren again.

“Hey.” He turned his head around best he could and looked at Betsy questioningly. She nodded. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” Warren wasn’t exactly in the mood to talk.

“Cool… Cool…” 

There was a pause before Warren spoke up, “Do you need anything?” 

“Just wanted to talk…” 

“You have other options.” 

Betsy rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t really wanna talk to you right now… And I don’t need you poking around in my head either.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” She said calmly. 

Warren didn’t respond. Betsy sighed, he was useless. Warren wasn’t going to talk even if she forced him. And she couldn’t really blame him, but she had a lingering feeling in her stomach. 

Probably just my dinner digesting… 

-

At some point, Betsy fell asleep, for when the plane landed Hank had to wake her up. She rubbed her eyes and undid her seatbelt. 

“Do we have to go through security again?” Scott asked. 

“Yeah, we left the country,” Hank told him while glancing at his watch.

Scott was not too thrilled. Everyone was tired to some degree. It was extremely late, and they went back a few hours due to the time zone.

“It won’t be that long. There’s hardly anyone here.” 

Everyone went through security and headed to the baggage claim to get their stuff. 

Jean was the first to get her suitcase— a medium-sized, teal one— Warren was next, and his was all black, to no one’s surprise, but the nametag on it looked drastic tied to the handle. 

It was clear, with glitter and flowers trapped inside it. It didn’t seem like Warren at all to Betsy, but what did she know? 

-

Hank took Betsy to an empty room and told her she could sleep there for the time being. She set her bags on the floor and looked around. There was a dated-looking wallpaper upon the walls, and the bed took up a little under half of the room. 

It was alright. 

Betsy rummaged through her bag for some pajamas when she heard footsteps. 

Hank had left almost immediately after he showed her the room, so it couldn’t be him. She opened the door only to see Warren walking down the hall. She quietly followed him, staying several steps behind. 

He went down to the main floor, and even further down into the basement. 

This place is huge! Betsy said to herself. 

The basement looked different from the rest of the mansion, for the walls and floor were made of metal. 

Warren turned right, into a room within the basement. Betsy held her breath as she got closer. 

What is he doing down here?

Betsy caught sight of a girl laying in a hospital bed. Warren sat down next to her and started talking… 

That’s why he’s on edge…  Betsy had accidentally bumped into something, making a loud noise. 

Warren shot up, “Who’s there?” 

Betsy tried to sneak out, but Warren caught her.

“Betsy!” 

She froze. 

“Why were you following me?”

“Why are you visiting a coma patient at three in the morning?” She asked back.

“She’s my girlfriend.” 

“I mean I figured as much—”

“So leave.” He cut her off and was sharp. “Please…” He pleaded more in his last word.

She looked at her unconscious figure, “I could help…” 

“No,” He was stern.

“I could—” “—You’d kill her.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” She defended.

“Yeah, you would. Her mutation makes her basically hibernate until March, so she’s fine.”

“I could still help— I’ve helped you before…”

“No, you didn’t! You were constantly going in and out of my life whenever it was convenient for you and came back when I didn’t need you too! You— you ruined my life!”

Betsy felt a wave of guilt wash over her.

“Look…” Warren sighed.  “Betsy… I’m sorry. I don’t want your help… I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Betsy nodded, she knew Warren wasn’t going to change his mind. 

“Okay.” 

“What?”

“I won’t help you.” She left the medical room, leaving Warren alone with his thoughts.

-

Over the next few days, Betsy accommodated herself to the mansion, giving Xavier the information he wanted, and exploring the grounds. 

She was almost always accompanied by Jubilee, per some people’s request, seeing as her past wasn’t spotless. 

Jubilee was full of energy, and always willing to tell Betsy whatever she asked about. 

“Who’s Warren’s girlfriend?”

“Her name is (Y/N). She controls plants. She can also grow them from her body. And her eyes change color based on her mood… She’s uh, she’s not around at the moment, but that’s not important.” 

Betsy nodded along as Jubilee spoke. “Is he happy?” 

“Do you miss him?” 

Betsy struggled to let out a straight answer, “No— ugh— I just— I ruined his life.” 

“You didn’t ruin his life!” Betsy glared at her. “Okay, okay, maybe you kind of did ruin his life, but he’s fine now. He’s just a little on edge you’re here and (Y/N) isn’t.” 

“I don’t need to stay here—” 

“Bullshit!” Jubilee exclaimed.  “You’ve got nowhere else to go, really.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

-

Betsy was rarely ever alone. She was too busy helping the X-Men. 

She had a few moments to herself though. She was never sure what to do. She couldn’t just up and leave and go out to some bar and sulk in a corner and come back drunk and angry— that’d paint her as extremely irresponsible. She didn’t want to bore or impose on the X-Men if she didn’t have to. 

She wandered around the mansion. It was massive and somewhat old and stuffy looking, but also gave off those classic school vibes.

Betsy wandered into the basement at some point and quickly learned, that was where the X-Men trained, made battle and mission plans, stored their jet, Hank worked on costumes and more in his lab, and where their medical bay was kept. 

She knew she shouldn’t be down there alone. Betsy wasn’t going to do anything bad, but it felt wrong. 

She was watching a girl in a coma sleep. There were so many things wrong about that. 

Of course, no one would really care, except for maybe Warren— but he had every good reason to.

“You keep visiting me.” 

Betsy almost jumped. The voice had startled her. She thought she was alone. 

“Jean?” But didn’t sound like Jean. Betsy couldn’t decipher who it was. 

She sat there for another thirty minutes, hoping the voice would return, but it didn’t. 

So she got up and left. 

It was probably just a student. My telepathic abilities aren’t the strongest. It was probably just a student somewhere on the grounds…

She didn’t tell anyone about the voice. She didn’t want to seem crazy, because it probably didn’t mean anything. 

-

“Hey,  guys! I found this on my google drive! It’s a bunch of videos from Xavier’s fourth of July party!” Peter had his laptop open at a table, with a few papers spread about. 

Everyone, including Betsy, gathered around Peter as he played a few video clips.

It was Warren, Peter, Scott, and (Y/N) all together in the first one. They were walking in a parking lot with shopping bags in their hands. 

“We just spent—” Peter cut Warren off.

“We just spent $2,000 on fireworks! Holy fuck!” Everyone else is laughing at his enthusiasm. 

“Can’t Jubilee just produce fireworks? Why did we need this many anyway?” 

“It’s for the American aesthetic, (Y/N)!” 

They got into the car and Peter was still recording. 

“Weren’t you born in Poland or something?” 

“America was founded on immigration—”

The clip was cut off, and the next one played automatically. But Betsy remembered the voice. The female one. It was like the one she heard in the basement… was (Y/N) trying to contact her?

She tried to focus as the next few clips played, she needed to hear (Y/N)’s voice again.

“Kurt, look—” Peter was still recording with his smartphone, he had zoomed in on a darker part of Xavier’s. It was a tree, and two people were leaning up against it— clearly making out. 

“Jean told me she went to get more popsicles!” Kurt whined. 

Everyone watching was laughing, except for Scott and Jean, who were extremely embarrassed they got caught. 

“You ain’t slick, Summers.”

“Shut up.” 

Footsteps could be heard. “What are we doing?” (Y/N) asked.

“Look—” Kurt motioned to the couple at the tree. 

“Oh, gross. They don’t even know we’re watching! And to think… Warren went inside to see what Jean was doing…”

“Well, he won’t find out,” Kurt joked. 

Betsy knew she heard (Y/N) voice in the basement… but why? Was she a ghost? Did her unconscious state allow her to communicate telepathically? 

She needed to go back there, alone, but she knew that was almost impossible. Hank was almost always down in the lab, and Warren was almost always visiting (Y/N). 

-

That didn’t really matter to her. Betsy needed to talk to her or hear her voice again. She thought about asking Jean, but she thought that would be fruitless. 

She went to visit (Y/N) again, but this time she spoke to her. 

“Can you hear me?” 

No response. 

“My name is Betsy Braddock. I know who you are and I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Betsy huffed, “This is stupid!” She got up and began to walk out. 

“Wait!” Betsy froze. (Y/N) said something. “You keep visiting me…”

“I’m just curious about you,” Betsy responded.

“Why?” 

“I don’t know I—” 

“Betsy?” Warren’s voice was stern and almost angry. “What are you doing here?”

“I can hear her. Like, with my abilities… I know you didn’t really want me down here and I understand—”

“Then why are you here?” 

“I wanted to see if I could communicate with her telepathically…” She admitted.  “That’s all. I’m not trying to wake her or anything.” 

“I’m sorry… but I can hear people and it’s nice to have someone who can hear me back…” 

Betsy, plagued with guilt, looked over at (Y/N), whos lifeless form hadn’t changed a bit, despite the obvious sadness in her words.

“I just feel, so bad and I don’t know why and… I ruined your life. There’s no shortcut, without me you would have left the fighting ring in less than three weeks… You’d have your feathery wings still… but I loved you and I couldn’t let go, and I thought bringing Apocalypse to you would make up for all the shit I did…” 

“I was a kid. I didn’t even know what love meant! And I’m not avoiding you on purpose, I don’t resent you as much as I did when I first came here… but I don’t know what you want, okay? Our lives aren’t connected anymore, and I just want (Y/N) back...” Warren was biting down on his lip to keep himself from breaking down crying. 

“Tell him I’m sorry.” 

“(Y/N) said she’s sorry…” 

Warren’s gaze shifted between the two girls. 

“Why is she sorry?”

“All I’ve done since Christmas is make him unhappy and upset. He deserves someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.”

“She said, you deserve someone who isn’t asleep for part of the year.” 

Warren walked over to (Y/N)’s body, he held her hand in his. “It’s not about what I may or may not deserve. It’s about what I want and love.” 

“I love him…” 

Betsy was about to repeat what she said, but Warren was crying. He had let a single tear drip down. 

It landed on (Y/N)’s hand. And soon as it did, her eyes flew open. 

-

She was gasping for air, eyes squinting up at the fluorescent lights. (Y/N) heard voices. 

“She’s awake…” 

“It’s almost March, that might be too early—“

“—I’ll be fine,” (Y/N) interrupted. She rubbed her eyes and turned her eyes away from the lights, looking over at Warren, who was at her side, tears in his eyes. 

“Betsy, go get Hank.” He instructed. Warren looked back at (Y/N), holding her hand in his, and his other cupping her cheek. 

“Hi.” She murmured in a groggy tone. 

“Hi.” He kissed her forehead. “I missed you.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

“Sorry?” Warren was perplexed. “What for?” 

“I couldn’t stay awake, and I hurt you, Warren. I made you cry and think you weren’t good enough for me…” She snuffled her nose. 

“That’s bullshit. You could never hurt me. I was crying because I couldn’t do anything. The last time I saw you was before I went to Italy on some dumb mission— I missed you… I missed your smile, I missed how you’d make flower crowns and put them on my head, how I could go to you after a nightmare no matter what time of night it was, or how you told me I helped you become more assertive and learn it’s okay to say no, or you showing me the beauty in everything— I…” His voice was breaking, but all (Y/N) could see in his eyes was happiness.  “I can’t live without you… I love you.”

“Oh, Warren, baby…” She squeezed his hand. 

Warren cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her. 

That one kiss said everything he wanted to say. It let out his feelings. It had passion and swiftness backing it up, followed by his undying love for (Y/N). 

She kissed him back, trying to make up for the time they’ve lost. Her lips fit prefectures against his. 

It was like the first time they kissed, full of everything she wanted, except much longer, with more meaning to it. 

They broke apart slowly, almost as if they didn’t want to. 

“I love you too…” She murmured.

[pips-fics]

ask: Hi, may I request a Lucy fic where Yechan gets a stomach bug but Sangyeop and Wonsang are out so there's just Gwangil to look after him? Literally I don't mind what other details you add 😊

as he slumped heavily onto the couch, yechan assumed the tiredness that had overcome him so suddenly was just a consequence of how much energy he’d spent during the day.  he’d surprised himself by waking up early, around 7, and had been going non-stop since, full of even more energy than normal - so by the time 7 at night rolled around, he figured it made sense for him to be feeling a bit worn down.

that’s the thing, though - it wasn’t just a bit.  it was complete, overwhelming exhaustion, so much so that he felt vaguely nauseous.  

after just a few minutes of watching some mindless show on tv, he forced himself back to his feet in search of headache medicine.  normally, yechan wasn’t a forgetful person, but somewhere along the way to his destination, he found himself confused and wondering what he’d been doing.  the exhaustion weighed more heavily on him than ever, but his head felt too light.  for a moment, he couldn’t tell if he was going to pass out or throw up.  his legs gave out and he sunk to the ground with black spots intruding on his vision.

he blinked quickly, straightening his back against the wall behind him, and took three slow, cautious, deep breaths.  moderately alarmed, he pulled out his phone to text the other members, just to check if any of them were home.  before he got the chance, a sharp pain shot through his head and he gasped, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut.  the pain left him winded and feeling quite sick again.  yechan figured he’d give his eyes a short rest, and then try texting again in a few minutes.

probably he should’ve known better, all things considered, but who could blame him when the only thing his brain cared about was getting some sleep?

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

when gwangil returned home at around 8:30, he initially thought that the apartment was empty.  he knew sangyeop and wonsang were out, as they’d stayed at the studio to continue recording after gwangil had left, and he assumed that it was too quiet for yechan to be around.  the oldest member of lucy had an unmatched aptitude for making noise, even - and sometimes especially - when left alone.  he was constantly whistling his favorite songs, humming melodies he’d made up on the spot, or fidgeting in some or another loud way.  even while sleeping, yechan was loud - and that’s what ended up giving him away.

gwangil didn’t hear the snoring until he’d walked through the kitchen and further into the apartment, and even then he doubted his ears.  he checked the couch and upon finding it empty, hurriedly made his way toward the bedroom.

“what the–“  gwangil just barely managed to avoid tripping over the violinist.  he was sitting in the hallway, chin to his chest like a child, very much asleep.  gwangil clicked his tongue upon seeing yechan’s phone in his hand.  he shook the older man’s shoulder gently.

“hyung, you shouldn’t fall asleep playing phone games.”

as yechan blearily blinked his eyes open, gwangil wanted to take his words back.  it was immediately clear that yechan was sick.  his eyes were glassy, and as he slowly lifted his head, his cheeks were bright red.  gwangil quickly confirmed his suspicions by placing the back of his head on yechan’s sweaty forehead.

“gwangil?”  yechan grabbed onto gwangil’s arm, but his grip was weak.

“you can’t sleep here, hyung, especially not when you’ve got a fever like that.”

yechan seemed to take that as a challenge, responding with an adamant tone and a pout.  “i can sleep here - i was sleeping here, but you woke me up!”

gwangil couldn’t quite resist the urge to roll his eyes.  “you shouldn’t sleep here - you’re going to be all achy when you get up.”

yechan glared.  “i already am achy!”

“great, hyung, good for you,” gwangil said dryly as he helped the older man to his feet.  “how about you eat something and we can get some fever reducers in you?”

complaints aside, yechan was fairly compliant as he allowed gwangil guide him to one of the kitchen stools.  “i was going to get headache meds before,” yechan said, his mouth barely forming the words clearly enough to make them out.

“oh yeah?  why didn’t you?”

“forgot.”

just another indication of how bad the older man must’ve been feeling.  from the way he held his head so gingerly in his hands, it was safe to assume the headache hadn’t magically gone away during yechan’s nap.  ultimately, gwangil didn’t need to assume.

“it huuuuuurts,” yechan whined, slumping further in his seat as gwangil offered him some soup.  yechan’s frown deepened.  “it smells bland.”

“what, did you expect me to give you some sort of spicy soup when you’re sick?”

“i- it’s just so boring,” yechan went on.

gwangil pointedly released an audible and long-suffering sigh.  “well, if you’ll just eat half of it or so, you can have something to help your headache.”

at that, yechan brought the spoon to his lips, still sulking.  “everything hurts and my nose is so stuffed up i can’t breathe,” he grumbled in between spoonfuls of soup.  as he brought some more to his lips, gwangil could see that he was shaking.  “i just wanna sleep.”

“so you don’t want your head to stop hurting?”

yechan shoved more soup in his mouth angrily, quickly consuming the rest of the bowl before dropping the spoon back in with a clink and a goofy fake gag.  “of course i do.  otherwise i wouldn’t have bothered eating that.  blech.  give me the meds.”

“you’re welcome,” gwangil said dryly, handing the medication over and taking yechan’s dishes to the sink.  “go to bed already.”

“you mean ‘go to couch?’”  the bitterness in yechan’s voice was so lacking in subtlety that gwangil almost laughed.

“oh, stop being such a baby.  of course you can sleep in the bedroom, you’re sick!  no one else is trying to sleep there right now, anyway, and it doesn’t bother me, so your snoring won’t be an issue.”

yechan’s mouth dropped open.  “really?”  the total awe in his voice made gwangil do a double take, and he couldn’t help the surprised snort that slipped out of him as he realized yechan had really assumed he wouldn’t be allowed to sleep in the bedroom.

“yes!”  yechan still looked like he thought he might be getting pranked, so gwangil joked, “the other two might be that cruel, but they’re not here right now, so let’s break the rules while they’re out!”

that seemed to do the trick.  yechan looked about as excited as gwangil had ever seen him as they headed to the bedroom.

by the time yechan was all settled in, it was late enough for gwangil to get in his own bed, but not quite late enough for him to sleep.  he texted sangyeop and wonsang to update them on yechan’s fever, and to warn them to perhaps stay at the studio and finish recording if they didn’t want to risk catching the bug.  gwangil continued messing around on his phone until he drifted off.

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

it was all very cliche.  yechan’s nightmare.  this was typical.

his nightmares tended to take the shape of people leaving him, walking away, one by one.  it would start out as an attack on his need for attention, just random strangers walking past him without sparing a second glance - and he could handle that.  for a while he couldn’t, and he would wake up in a cold sweat, but after countless repetitions, he got past it.

unfortunately, getting past it meant entering phase two of the dream, which targeted his more vulnerable fears. 1. fear of being left alone, 2. fear of being helpless to stop it.  this, too, he had overcome - or so he’d thought.  for a while, he’d been able to remind himself it wasn’t real, and to just give up.  but, as he stopped chasing his loved ones as they walked away from him, a new fear began to grow - a fear that he wouldn’t even put in the effort to stop them, that the helplessness he learned through nightmares might someday carry through to reality.  that fear was something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to combat.

still, this was all typical.  it was decidedly less typical for him to wake up sobbing, let alone to wake up one of his members with said sobbing even before yechan himself was fully awake.  but then, there was a first time for everything.

so when gwangil’s voice broke through the watery haze of yechan’s crying, he couldn’t help himself from grabbing at the drummer’s hands, couldn’t stop sniffling right away.  it was the first time.  he’d do better next time.  he’d learn to handle it on his own, like he always did.  but for now, gwangil’s hands were kind of helping him breathe.

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

“hyung!”  gwangil thought he was probably too emotionally clumsy to be dealing with this, actually.  it was pretty unusual to see yechan upset, but when he was, it was always sangyeop who worked his magic and got their oldest member back to his typical cheerful self.  but sangyeop wasn’t here, and yechan wasn’t just upset, he was sobbing.  so gwangil would do his best, and he figured waking yechan was the first step of that.

apparently letting yechan grab him with sweaty hands was the second.  he let the almost instinctual teasing comment die in the back of his throat and tried to ignore the urge to shudder.

“are you…”  okay?  that didn’t seem like a question that needed to be asked.  should he ask what was wrong, or was that prying?  did yechan have nightmares a lot, or was this because of the fever?  gwangil definitely wasn’t going to ask that.  not now.  he shook his head and stroked yechan’s hand until his grip eased up, then moved to support the older man’s back as he gasped for air.  “here, hyung, sit up.  you’ll be able to breathe better.  i’ll get you some water.”

for an instant, yechan looked like he was going to protest, his grip on gwangil’s left hand tightening.  then he ducked his head away, towards the shoulder that was further from gwangil, and nodded.  his grip loosened, too, but not completely, his hand dropping back to the bed only when gwangil pulled away.

by the time gwangil got back, the tears had stopped.  something about that felt very wrong.  maybe it was the contrast between the shy smile on his face and the puffy redness of his eyes.  

yeah, that was probably it.

handing over the water, gwangil put his hand to yechan’s head - he definitely still had a fever, and it had gotten worse.  a second too late, gwangil realized he shouldn’t have let go of the cup of water, remembering how shaky yechan was.  sure enough, yechan’s whole pajama shirt got drenched.

yechan laughed.  “well, i needed a shower, anyway, with how much i’ve been sweating.”  gwangil frowned at him and yechan’s eyes darted down, away.  “hah, sorry, that’s gross.”

gwangil’s frown deepened.  “it’s fine.”  he quickly grabbed another shirt and pulled it over yechan’s head as soon as he’d dried himself off.  “how are you feeling?”

yechan shrugged, still avoiding eye contact.

“hyung, please talk to me.  i’m trying to help.”

“i’m fine.”  gwangil didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone sound less fine.  but it wasn’t just that yechan sounded miserable - he did, he sounded small and ill - more than that, he sounded far away, and closed off, and maybe… scared.  his posture backed it all up, curled away from gwangil, hunched over.

“nuh uh,” gwangil said, before he’d really had a chance to figure out the words he was going to say.  he was definitely not equipped to handle this.  yechan’s eyes snapped to gwangil and he sighed.  “i’m just worried about you, hyung.  if you can go back to sleep, you should.  i’ll get you more water and anything else you need before you do.”

much to gwangil’s surprise, yechan’s mouth opened, and then closed just as quickly.  yechan’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down rapidly, and gwangil wondered if he would cry again.

“hyung?”

yechan’s lips curved downwards, as if the words themselves were bitter, but he finally spoke up, a whisper.  “my stomach feels sick.”

for a second, gwangil was frozen - then he snapped into motion, helping yechan out of bed and to the bathroom.  he wasn’t surprised when yechan shooed him out of the bathroom and didn’t mind obeying.  that didn’t mean he was going far.

he sat outside the bathroom door and checked his messages.  wonsang still hadn’t read what he’d sent earlier, so he suspected that recording wasn’t going particularly well even before he read sangyeop’s message:

oh no!  is he really sick?  are you okay?  wonsang is holding me prisoner until i can hit the high notes but if you need me i can pull the hyung card on him

gwangil was grinning at this when he heard a retch.  he flinched and resisted the urge to pull out his earbuds, trying to refocus on his phone rather than the painful noises coming from behind him.

no need, hyung!  we’ll be okay.  wonsang-hyung’s right, you should finish recording before you risk catching a bug, anyway.  good luck!

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

yechan’s head was spinning as he leaned over the toilet bowl.  he didn’t know why gwangil had insisted on getting him a new shirt when it’d taken him all of about 10 minutes to sweat through it.  he yanked it off, quick to return to his safe position above the toilet.

this was the part he hated.  the waiting.

Five minutes later and his legs were shaking from supporting his odd posture, but yechan refused to move.  the nausea was almost overwhelming.  this was taking too long.  he squeezed his eyes shut, and forced himself to gag.  he hadn’t fully committed, initially, but suddenly he didn’t have a choice as a harsh retch tore at his throat.  he blinked, surprised by the force of it, and then heaved again.

his stomach ached horribly.  he massaged it, but the clamminess of his hands just reminded yechan how disgusting he felt and probably looked.  he’d have to apologize to gwangil after all of this.  

a shudder ran through him and yechan leaned forward into another long retch, managing to expel a small stream of liquid this time.  he coughed and found his airways suddenly blocked by what was previously his stomach contents.

ah, he hated this part, too.  the pain and weakness and lack of control.  yechan couldn’t stop himself from breathing loudly as he draped himself over the toilet, desperate for air.  the taste and the smell made him gag again almost immediately.  he kept his mouth shut and swallowed back sick, only for it to come right back up.

yechan was worn out.  it hit him suddenly, that he’d really fucked up.  as a rule, he didn’t cry.  more realistically, more accurately, he didn’t cry in front of people.  not when he was sad, and definitely not when he was scared.  sangyeop had been a room while he cried exactly once but even then, yechan had done an alright job of hiding it and moving on.

thinking about it was not helping his stomach situation.  he barely made it over the toilet in time for a thin stream of vomit to splash into the water below.  he flushed it down, and didn’t bother wiping his mouth, instead choosing to lay flat on his back on the cold floor, arms and lets splayed like a starfish.  his stomach felt empty, but his bones still felt sick, and his head was frankly spinning a bit.

maybe if he stayed quiet, he wouldn’t have to deal with gwangil.

it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate gwangil’s help - in fact, he was extremely grateful for his help earlier to avoid making a mess.  it was just that yechan wasn’t up for explaining anything right now, or ever, and sooner or later, gwangil would want answers.  if yechan stayed locked in a bathroom alone for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t have to answer them.

he yechan felt like a coward.  but then, more than that, he felt exhaustion, so he let it overtake him and hoped he’d be a bit braver once he woke up.

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

gwangil picked the lock to the bathroom after he’d heard nothing from yechan in 30 minutes, and was not surprised to find the older man solidly asleep on the hard floor.  “yechan-hyung,” he said, softly jostling yechan’s shoulder.  “let’s get you back in bed.”

“don’ wanna,” yechan whined, eyes still shut.

“not up for debate, come on.  i can carry you?”

yechan immediately held out his arms, and gwangil smiled slightly.  he was just glad yechan was letting him help.

——

feel free to send more asks!

[argylemnwrites]

Live And Die This Way

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Ellie Whitnall)

Book: Ride or Die (post book 1)

Word Count: ~5900

Rating: R (language, brief 30 diamond content - N*FW, referenced violence)

Summary: How do you create the life you crave? And what is the cost?

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 4 - MC. This is a direct companion piece to my Colt entry “He Knew” and will reference many of same events covered there, but it does stand on it’s own. This piece was envisioned first, with my Colt piece kind of springing forth from the future I saw for those two while crafting this fic. In addition to the content mentioned in the rating, content warning for infidelity.

Ellie didn’t know how to feel about college. Not so much about her coursework - that always made perfect sense after years of AP and honors classes. More about her “college experience” or whatever cliche phrase described how it was to just live as a freshman in Turren Hall on the west side of Langston’s quad.

She liked her independence. She could eat what she wanted, go where she wanted, do what she wanted. If the end of her senior year had been more traditional, she probably would have been buzzing from all of her freedoms. She had her first taste of alcohol. She made out with a cute boy at a house party. She ate ice cream for dinner and ordered pizza with Rebecca, her roommate, at midnight. She was enjoying herself.

But her new friends acted like these little things were the pinnacle of independence, and it was hard for her to relate to that. Not when she’d experienced the thrill of pushing the speedometer up over 100 MPH, felt the power of an engine revving at 5000 RPM, and jumped from moving vehicle to moving vehicle at highway speeds.

She liked her new friends and classmates well enough, but she never talked to them about who she’d been in Gramercy Park. She didn’t bring up the MPC and her brief time with them. She certainly never mentioned Colt.

It’s not that she disliked college, she just was struggling to put it all together, the person she was in New Hampshire with the person she’d become in LA. On the weekends, she found herself just going on drives, trying to reclaim that thrill, that rush. She found a county highway about 20 miles from campus where she could floor it and feel the speed settling deep into her bones. She always went on these trips alone, even as she started seeing Chris more and more often. He wouldn’t get it.

Chris wanted to officially be her boyfriend. She’d sensed it for months, but he finally asked her one Saturday in April. His roommate had gone home for the weekend, so Ellie had spent the night in his room. She liked Chris well enough. He was a chemical engineering major, he was cute, and with his short, curly, blond hair, he looked nothing like either of the guys that had turned her life upside down one year earlier. 

The trouble was any connection between them was superficial. On paper, they seemed so similar - both of them had been valedictorian, science and math nerds, only children raised in protective Catholic households. But he only saw “Langston Ellie,” he only liked that part of her. He didn’t have this drive for something more - more thrilling, more adventurous, more stimulating. So she kept things between them casual, and when summer break rolled around and she made her way back to LA, she didn’t feel any guilt about trying to track down Colt.

He must have gotten a new phone with a new number as part of his plan to “lay low” and evade arrest, and Kaneko Auto Shop was still a boarded up shell, scorch marks visible along the walls. But she eventually found him, less than 36 hours before she was leaving, of course. It was almost fitting, seeing him at the sideshow, the place where she’d first met him. She wasn’t sure if he saw her, but she spotted him right away, standing off in the shadows, talking with a couple of men, wearing that same leather jacket.

At some point, he must have noticed her, because he couldn’t just let her dance with Darius and Riya. Instead, he’d wrapped his arm around her waist, and it was like stepping into a time machine, as if no time had passed, as if they’d seen each other last week, not last year. Riding back to his new place and falling into bed with him was the first time she’d felt truly awake in ages.

Any illusion that sex with Colt just seemed better than sex with Chris because he’d been her first and she hadn’t had a point of comparison went straight out the window. It wasn’t that sex with Chris was bad, but with Colt… it was raw and primal and intense, and those were not ever words that could be used to describe Chris. Chris in bed seemed scared he would hurt her, so he just tried to coax her to the peak of pleasure. Colt wanted to stake claim, to possess her, to drive her higher and higher. He knew how strong she really was, and it made her heart soar.

She knew she was heading back to New Hampshire, and that tonight with Colt would be just that - one night. It’s why she didn’t ask him about the Brotherhood. Hearing about his inevitable ventures into bloody vengeance would just lead to a fight, and there was little point in ruining this little moment in time with that. This was a reprieve, not a promise, and that meant some things were better left unsaid. 

So the sun came up and Colt drove Ellie back to her father’s home, but not before adding his new number to her phone. She packed up her suitcase and tanked up the Shokai Fourier and made the drive across the country, back to Langston and a world of academics and being a “good girl.” But now she had another outlet. Anytime she craved that thrill, she would text him. Sometimes it was a bratty little insult. Sometimes it was a barely clothed selfie. But he always responded. And as she started sophomore year, it felt like she might be figuring out a way to merge the two sides of her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Texting Colt became a new form of an adrenaline rush when she somehow stumbled into a relationship with Chris. She knew it was wrong, that Chris didn’t deserve the way she was treating him. Being kind of dull was not failing. But the problem was that “Langston Ellie” didn’t have a reason not to date him. So over Valentine’s dinner, he became her boyfriend. 

It was a balance, that thrill that came from sneaking out for a drive or shooting Colt a dirty little text versus the pit of guilt that sat in her stomach. She tried to justify it to herself when the guilt got to be too much, telling herself that nothing physical had happened with Colt while she and Chris were together, but that was a flimsy excuse.

The issue was that she felt like herself, vibrant and happy, and the more she pushed the boundaries on what was acceptable in her personal life, the more she excelled elsewhere. She was setting the curve in almost all her classes. Her research was going well enough to get approved for the Summer Scholars Program, which came with a generous stipend. It’s like she had to be doing something “wrong” to feel complete, and since stealing cars wasn’t an option at the moment, this is what she settled for. She wasn’t sure what that said about her as a person.

But she kept living her double life for months and months until one day in October, things all came to a head. She got a call from a number with a 310 area code, but she didn’t recognize it, so she let it go to voicemail. When she finally got a chance to listen to it an hour later, after her meeting with Dr. Frisch, it felt like the world might just swallow her whole. Her father was too young, too healthy to have a heart attack, to need bypass surgery, to be in the ICU.

It had taken her 15 hours to email her advisor, request a leave of absence, and receive approval, email Dr. Frisch to withdraw from his research group, and to pack up her room in the off-campus apartment she and Rebecca were renting and load up the Shokai Fourier. She spent far too much of that time breaking up with Chris.

It hadn’t even occurred to her to let him know about Dad until he’d texted her after dinner time, asking if she was still on for an ice cream run to Gilly’s. What followed was him coming over, with hours of talking, of him trying to calm her, tell her everything was going to be fine. She’d gotten frustrated, asked him how he could possibly know her dad was going to be okay. It was messy and awful, their first and last fight, all culminating with her kicking him out and sending him back to his apartment when he dared to suggest she was too emotional to be making these decisions in the moment.

The drive to LA was a long one, filled with tears and regrets. It felt like her fault. She’d put him through hell senior year, only to leave him all alone to flit off to college, where she had just coasted by, chasing down the high of adrenaline in destructive ways. Instead of stopping at a motel to rest, she drove the 3000 miles basically straight through, resting for a few hours in a parking lot in Iowa, but otherwise relying on Red Bull and coffee to get her through the drive. She’d gone to drop off her stuff at her father’s place, but when she arrived, she couldn’t bring herself to unlock the door. Even though the latest update from Dr. Ginde had been that her father was improving, she couldn’t bear to go inside, to see memories of him and her mother plastered everywhere, all by herself.

So she’d driven over to Gramercy Park. The shop was open now. She knew that was the plan, but it was still nice to see it with her own two eyes. She locked her car and went inside, taking in the bustle and the activity, cars hoisted on jacks, an air compressor hissing in the background. If she had recognized any of the people working in the shop, she almost could have believed that no time had passed.

Some guy with dreads went to go find Colt for her as she stood there, feeling both out of place and at home at the same time. Finally, he emerged, grease streaks on his t-shirt and jeans, his hair just a little shorter than she remembered. He took her into his office and listened as she told him what happened. No questions, no platitudes, no infantilization. Just understanding and comfort, and when she told him she didn’t know how to go home alone, he’d just told her to follow him back to his place.

Staying with Colt was like falling back into a former life. She hung around the garage, reconnected with Ximena, and went out racing and to sideshows. She visited her dad every day in the hospital and then in the rehab facility, taking notes on all his doctor’s instructions and researching new, heart-healthy recipes for them to eat as she got him settled back in at home. And even though she and Colt never talked about it, suddenly they were together, with her toiletries tucked into his medicine cabinet, a second towel hung in the bathroom, and her favorite yogurt stocked in the fridge. It all felt comfortable, and she felt at peace with her life for the first time in a long time. She could get that adrenaline rush she craved so badly as she drag raced through the streets, getting to know Colt’s new crew, and she wasn’t hurting anyone to do so. She felt happy, so as October bled into November, she emailed her advisor, preparing to extend her leave of absence.

She never thought Colt would object to her plans to stick around, but he was cruel and livid when she told him she wasn’t heading back. At first, her anger flared, righteous and indignant. How dare he try to tell her what to do. She’d thrown her clothes that were scattered around his place back into her duffel bag and headed straight to her father’s home. He didn’t comment when she tossed her bag into her old bedroom, just pulled out the Parcheesi board and sat down at his usual spot at the kitchen table.

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of bacon sizzling, so she made her way into the kitchen.

“Dad, you can’t have bacon anymore. It’s not on your ‘safe foods’ list.”

“I figured whatever sent you here yesterday might warrant an ‘Ellie special,’” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s turkey bacon.”

She bit her lip as she sat down at the table, wondering if she should risk stressing him out by bringing it up, but he crossed the bridge first as he set her plate in front of her.

“I suppose you were staying with that boy with the yellow GT?”

She shook her head. “No, the boy with the motorcycle.”

Dad just let out a sigh and gave his head a little shake. “They’re all still wanted criminals, Ellie. The statute of limitations hasn’t run out. But I suppose you already know that.”

“Dad…”

“Look, I know you’re an adult, and you can make your own choices. But I hope you know what you’re doing here. If you get caught up with him in something again… I won’t be able to spin it that you were just a kid who got roped into the whole thing by a dirty cop who convinced you that you could be an informant and help him.”

“I know what I’m doing, Dad. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you aren’t. That’s what scares me the most. Oh well, you’ll be back at Langston soon enough, I suppose.”

It was Ellie’s turn to sigh as she filled him in on how her plan had been to stay, to work in LA and to help him recover, at least for one more semester. When she finished, Dad just stared at her for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, before he spoke.

“So, let me see if I have this right. This… Colt told you to go back and finish your degree?” As she nodded, he just shook his head. “Never thought I would be on the same side as a little punk.”

She shoved her chair back from the table, abandoning her breakfast. “Dad, it doesn’t matter whose side you’re on, because it doesn’t matter what you think or what he thinks. This is my choice.”

But as the days ticked by, and her dad seemed stronger and stronger, she had to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She’d gotten upset because it felt like Colt was trying to decide what was best for her, but as she thought back on their fight with a clearer head, that wasn’t really a fair assessment. He wasn’t trying to control her; he was trying to push her. At the end of the day, he liked her strong and sharp, ready for the next challenge. And while being back in LA felt good and right in so many ways, just hanging around after her father’s medical emergency wasn’t the way to go about it. She wanted to come back here, but she needed to do so the right way, as an active choice, not a passive situation that just happened.

So she went back to school and worked her ass off, taking summer classes to make up for the shitty schedule with not enough engineering credits she had to settle for after she registered late for classes. She was a semester behind now, but that was manageable. She lost her research position, but that was okay. She didn’t need to build her resume anymore. She had a job lined up already.

When she signed papers granting her 50% ownership of Kaneko Auto Shop, everyone in her life thought she was crazy. Rebecca had pestered her for months with info about engineering firms that were hiring and master’s programs. Riya had told off Darius for telling her she was being foolish, but as soon as he left to go get them takeout, she’d told her she must be out of her mind to legally tie herself to that Kaneko boy in any way. Her father just shook his head and went into his bedroom, closing the door with a thud. But Ellie didn’t care. It was the first time she’d felt fully alive in almost five years.

It was invigorating, to finally be living a life that was 100% her choosing. She wasn’t held back by her father’s restrictions, her peers’ perceptions, her own perfectionistic expectations of herself. She was just… Ellie. She wasn’t bound by anything or anyone. All her fears, concerns, and worries were nothing in the face of all the possibilities ahead of her. Ahead of them.

Colt had always seen her. It was why she’d been drawn to him in the first place. He didn’t treat her like a child that needed protecting. He respected her agency, her autonomy, her abilities. He respected her opinions and suggestions, and slowly but surely, they were able to expand and grow the shop and their territory. Not too fast, as that would attract the attention of both rivals and law enforcement, but steady enough that people had to take them both seriously. He wasn’t just coasting on his father’s reputation, and she wasn’t some sheltered little girl who had slept her way into this world. They proved themselves, and they were thriving. And finally, Ellie felt like she was living the life she was supposed to be. She felt like herself, fully realized and alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s not that she and Colt lived in some bubble of pure domestic and professional bliss. They disagreed about how aggressive to be when rival crews inched in on their turf, about whether a drop would be worth the payout, about whether or not the new mechanic was trustworthy enough to drive on their next big job. And when they disagreed, they disagreed. It was never violent, but it was loud and passionate. They pushed each other time and time again. It was just how they worked things out, and they always were able to come to an understanding in the end.

Ellie never questioned their arrangement until she was pregnant. In their four years as equal partners, both personally and professionally, she’d never had any qualms about the life they were living. It was exciting and thrilling, but their risks were always calculated, or so it had seemed. They were smart about things. It’s why their territory had nearly doubled in size over those four years with only one misdemeanor arrest for petty theft for their entire crew over that time.

But when she heard that heartbeat over the sonogram, Ellie knew that she had to change the way she thought about risk and reward, because risks that were acceptable to take when it was just her and Colt, conquering south LA one block at a time, where not okay when there was going to be a child at home depending on them. Colt, on the other hand, seemed to take the opposite approach. He was hungrier and more ambitious than ever. He wanted to move more volume, expand to new neighborhoods, to grow bigger more quickly than ever.

“This will be our legacy. All of this, rebuilt and passed on to our kid,” he told her over and over again. And any of her pleas to slow things down, to take a step back, were met with annoyance and frustration. “If we slow down, we won’t be able to keep what we have now. Others will take notice and swoop in. It’ll be a moment of weakness.”

He worked nearly around the clock, always trying to strike a better deal, to find a better score. Part of her had even worried that he would have left her at the hospital with just her father if he got word of a deal on hot merchandise while she was in labor. But when the contractions came, he was at her side the entire time. He was antsy and impatient, sure, but most of that was probably due to having to spend 26 hours straight in a confined space with Dad. Over the years, that relationship had never evolved beyond frosty tolerance.

When Margot Graciela Kaneko came into the world, 6 lbs 4 oz and screaming like a banshee, Ellie swore she saw Colt wipe a tear away. She hadn’t seen him cry since that awful night in May nine years ago, when he’d had to watch his father sacrifice himself. When she forgot all about how horrible it was that Colt had kidnapped and planned murders because he’d looked so broken and human, not at all like a ruthless kingpin wannabe who had no moral code. With all their shared daddy issues, it had felt cruel to bring up her concerns about his moral compass when his world had just shattered to pieces.

For his part, Dad cried openly when she told him his granddaughter’s name, forgiving the use of Kaneko as her surname when he realized she shared her middle name with the abuela she would never get to meet. For a moment, they felt like a normal family. Not a detective father who had to turn a blind eye as his daughter and her boyfriend ran one of the ten largest auto theft crews in LA. Just three adults who loved a little baby girl more than anything.

Colt was always a loving father. He adored Margot, and she wanted for nothing. Toys and clothes and books littered her nursery in their new two bedroom house, a home security system installed with door and window alarms, motion sensors, and security cameras. He took pride in every developmental milestone she reached and bragged about her constantly. The office at the shop was covered with her drawings, and when she started 4K, her first attempts at writing letters and numbers joined her colorings and paintings.

He just didn’t seem to have any desire to strike a work-life balance. It didn’t exactly surprise Ellie. They had both thrown themselves into that shop for years, their only goal and purpose. For both of them, work had been their life. But now, she felt like they needed to handle things a little differently. More cautious, less aggressive in their growth schemes. It was a point of disagreement between them regularly.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, Ellie. I’m building this for us. For her. Since when are you fucking timid about growing the shop?”

“It would be nice if you could eat dinner at home with us more than a couple of times a month.”

“Just bring her for dinner with the crew.”

Round and round, over and over. Her asking him to take a step back and spend more time with Margot while he dove deeper and deeper into his work, acting like bringing Margot into that world as a preschooler was a solution. At times it felt like her own personal Groundhog’s Day, her living the same day with the same damn fight time and time again.

She’d been venting to Mona one afternoon in a coffee shop as she waited for a contact to bring them info about a new shipment that should be passing through over the weekend. It was a little risky, combining her work with a meeting with Mona now that she worked as a consultant on grand larceny cases for the LAPD. Initially it had been a condition of her parole, but it ended up suiting Mona just fine. She was a free-lancer at this point, so she only took the cases that she wanted, and she was well paid for it. Not as well-paid as Colt and Ellie, but without the overhead and without the risk. 

“He just is so single-minded, and he doesn’t understand why it bothers me.”

Mona laughed at that. “He’s Kaneko’s kid, Ellie. I don’t know what else you were expecting when you picked him over Logan.”

It was strange to think about it like that. She knew that Logan and Colt had both wanted her back then. And for a while, she and Logan were happy. But while Logan had tried to shield her from his world, Colt had encouraged her to immerse herself further. He saw potential in her, and it had been so liberating, being seen as a woman, not a child. And once it came out that Logan had only pursued her at Kaneko’s instruction, she’d just been done. She felt like a pawn and a fool, hurt and violated, so she’d turned to the only person she could count on to be blunt and direct, to respect enough at least for that.

“Have you heard from Logan at all?”

Mona shook her head. “I think he made it to Detroit, but that was years ago.”

“I hope he’s doing okay,” Ellie said as she took a sip of her coffee. Mona just raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push that topic any further. She was right. The traits that drew her to Colt in the first place were wrapped tightly with the ones that frustrated her now, all of which were proof that he was very much his father’s son.

“So other than Colt being an ass, how’s life?” Mona asked, drawing Ellie out of her nostalgic musings. She pulled out her phone and showed her a video of Margot cruising around on her new balance bike. For better or worse, this was the life she had chosen, and for all its frustrations, she knew she still had plenty to appreciate. She wouldn’t have wanted a different life, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Margot was heavy in her arms as she rang the doorbell, praying that he wasn’t working tonight. He really wasn’t supposed to be working nights at all anymore - his cardiologist’s recommendation as part of numerous lifestyle changes - but Ellie knew he would still pick up an overnight now and then. She’d never really felt like she was in a position to question his judgement given her own career choices.

She rang the bell three times before she saw a light flip on the hallway. She let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t wanted to have to pick the lock. A few seconds later, the door cracked open. Her father looked disoriented, his hair sticking out in numerous directions, wearing blue plaid pajama pants and an old Honor Roll Parent t-shirt.

“Ellie? What’s going-” he started, but dropped his voice to a whisper when he noticed Margot passed out against her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Ellie nodded. “We just need a place to stay.”

He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to say more, but after a second, he just nodded and stepped aside, letting them pass through the door. He followed a few steps behind. Ellie could feel him staring at her as she carried her daughter into her old bedroom, tucking her in on the far side of the bed.

“I need to go grab our stuff from my car. Can you stay with her? She’s going to be confused if she wakes up and isn’t in her bed.”

Dad just nodded again, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his hand soothingly over the back of his granddaughter’s head. When Ellie returned with the duffel bag and tote bags she managed to fill, all she knew she could carry at the same time as Margot, she dropped them on the floor. Anytime she had come to stay before, she’d only brought a couple days worth of clothes, so she knew the amount of luggage she’d brought was going to attract attention. He was a detective, after all.

“How long are you staying?”

All she could do was shake her head, willing herself not to cry. She felt lost and heartbroken, but more than that, she felt stupid. Stupid for ignoring everyone’s warnings about Colt, for thinking that she could have the thrills and excitement of that life without causing serious harm, for having a child with a man who could order the murder of someone without batting an eyelash.

Dad stood up and crossed over to her, wrapping his arms around her, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. She started sobbing into his chest, feeling like a child all over again. But the pain kept pouring out of her, and her father just took it all, even after everything she’d put him through over the past 13 years. And when the tears finally slowed, she let him guide her to her old bed and tuck her in right next to her daughter.

The next week was filled with rounds of Candyland and Guess Who, drives out for ice cream and donuts, and trips to the park with Abuelo. All things that Margot loved, things that would hopefully keep her happy and from asking questions that Ellie wasn’t ready to answer. How do you tell your four year old that her Daddy, the man she thought was the best on the planet, had decided to make some phone calls to end a man’s life, so they couldn’t live with him anymore? Ellie just wanted to put off that conversation for as long as possible.

But Margot was bright and curious, and all the distraction in the world wasn’t enough to make her forget her home and her father. Ellie stumbled through it the best she could, telling her that Daddy had done something very naughty that he thought was the right choice, but that was actually something really bad.

“Is Daddy in a timeout?” she asked as Ellie tucked her in, her brown eyes wide with wonder.

“Kind of, sweetie.”

“How long do Daddy’s timeouts last?”

“A long time, Margot. A very long time.”

She nodded, like it all made sense to her now. Ellie knew she couldn’t keep her from Colt forever, but until she felt like she had her feet under her again, this was probably the best approach she could hope for. She dropped a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and flipped off the lights, gently closing the door and making her way into the kitchen.

The Mancala board was set up this time. While the days were filled with fun activities for Margot, the nights had been a series of board games, just her and Dad. Just like the old days. He hadn’t asked her many questions. Ellie suspected he was so glad she had left Colt, that he didn’t want to push his luck and say the wrong thing that might send her running back to him. But tonight she was going to have to broach the subject.

“Dad, can you watch Margot tomorrow night?” she asked as she dropped her stones down, one by one, working her way around the board.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Probably to the shop or our house. I’m going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“He’s… been riding by on that... bike of his,” Dad ground out, glancing up across the table, his eyes flitting nervously. Like she hadn’t known that was the case. She knew exactly what his bike sounded like. Besides, she knew it would be his next step. She had dozens of voicemails and unread texts from him.

“I know.”

“Do you… what I mean is… what do you want me… are you… Ellie-”

“We’re done, Dad. I don’t want to see him.” She interrupted his ramblings, and glanced up from the Mancala board at him. His shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. “But we have a kid together. I can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

He let out a little hum as he contemplated his next move. “Ellie, what happened?”

She shook her head. No way he wouldn’t feel obligated to turn Colt in if he heard that he’d ordered Shaw’s shanking. “I really can’t tell you.”

“If he did something that-”

“-I still own 50% of the shop, Dad. Plus, he’s Margot’s father. This is going to be hard enough on her without him behind bars.”

She could practically feel her father’s stare, attempting to bore a hole in the top of her head as she kept her eyes on the board. She knew he wanted to know more, wanted to say more. Finally, he said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you’re looking at a custody battle, him behind bars would be very helpful.”

She turned her head up and frowned. “I’m not going to throw him to the wolves. It won’t make things better, trust me.”

“Honey, you say that now, but when custody battles get going-”

“He’s not gonna fight me for custody,” Ellie interrupted. “Not as long as I let him see her every now and then.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’m gonna let him buy me out of the shop well below market value. That’s always been his priority, anyway.” She’d been mulling it over in her mind, and it seemed like her best move. They both got what they wanted. As long as she promised not to do what his mother had done, to take his kid and move as far away as possible, he would probably agree. He got his father’s legacy and a relationship with his daughter. She got the chance to shield her daughter from the harshest realities of the world where she was born. It was win-win.

She knew she was screwed professionally at this point. She’d spent the nine years since college in a job that would do little for her resume. It was a small price to pay for her daughter’s safety and well-being, though.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to get enough to get a little apartment for us, at least until I figure out what I can do for work-” she started explaining, but Dad reached across the table and grabbed her hand, cutting her off.

“You’ll both stay here as long as you need.”

“Dad, you’ve already dealt with so much of this drama. I’m not going to ask you to house us indefinitely.”

He shook his head, still holding tight to her hand. “I know you could do it on your own if you had to, Ellie. You are bright and resourceful and so determined when you need to be. But I’m your dad, and this something I can do to help you out and keep you safe.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his words. His desire to protect her from a harsh world was still there all those years later. And while it had been the bane of her existence as a teenager who thought she could handle everything that life would throw her way, his attitude felt different now that she had Margot sleeping in her childhood bed, a direct result of her own attempt to protect her child.

“Thank you, Dad,” she choked out, forcing a smile as a couple of tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

“Of course, Honey. You’re both my girls, always.”

He was right, more right than he could know. Because if Colt was cut from the same cloth as his father, well, so was she, at least where it counted. She would protect her daughter and as a family, they would get through the bad times. She hadn’t always made the right choices, but she had her daughter and she had her father. And for the time being, that would have to be enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts   

ROD: @mskaneko @burnsoslow​

[jising-jisang-jisung]

P.JS - Royal!au

Genre: royal!au, servant!jisung princess!reader ft. prince!jaemin, angst

Word count: 3.1k (dont know how I did that)

a/n: okay so this is my first time trying out a royal!au so I hope it's okay 😅 ngl I kinda like it so I might write more royal!dream... also sorry this is angst i just couldnt make it fluffy without being overly cliche and gross

A soft tap on your door steals your attention away from the seams on your bedsheets. “Miss y/n?” your servant’s voice calls.

“Come in,” you reply, maintaining all formalities through the barrier of the door, knowing that your guard is there, and will report any nonsense to your father, the king.

Your door creaks open as Jisung walks in, holding a giant tray in his hands.

“Sungie!” you call as soon as the door is closed. “Did you do it like I told you to?” you question eagerly.

“Well of course, y/n/n.”

“Yes! There’s enough for us to share!” you cheer, looking at the food your servant, who doubles as your best friend, had brought you. “Open,” you instruct him. He does as you command, opening his mouth for you to feed him the peach slice tangling from your fork. “Is it good?” you bite your lip, salivating over the fresh fruit.

Jisung nods excitedly, taking a seat next to you. “Your turn,” he nearly spits since he barely even chewed his piece before speaking. He holds out a slice for you to eat, but as you are about to snatch it, he pulls back to eat it himself.

“Hey,” you playfully smack his arm. He gives you a bashful smile before holding out another slice, and letting you eat it this time. 

“Miss y/n?” and a knock on your door results in Jisung jumping off of his perch on your bed and you grabbing the food to move to your table.

“Come in,” you call after the two of you look like a normal Princess and servant and not a couple of goofy friends.

Another servant boy, Chenle, walks into your room. “Your father wishes to see you. He has urgent news,” he tells you bowing as he moves to exit.

“Wait! Do you happen to know what it might be about?”

The boy grins at you. He was also one of your good friends since you were all about the same age and had grown up in the castle together, but unlike Jisung, Chenle wasn’t your servant. Fortunately, however, since he was able to spend his time all around the castle, he was able to get the gossip on everything. 

“Well,” he starts. Jisung and you move back to your previous seats now that the coast is clear. “From what I heard, there is another King and Queen visiting. And, if rumors are true, they have a son.” At first you’re very confused. What would another monarch have concerned with you? “But you should really leave now, he specifically said it was urgent, your highness.”

You walk quickly through the halls, enjoying the sound of your shoes hitting the tiles. You would rather run, to make up for the lost time talking with Chenle, but you aren’t supposed to, as a princess and all, it is considered unmannerly.

As you walk into the main hall, you see both of your parents as well as the familiar looking King and Queen of a nearby kingdom. And of course you couldn’t miss the boy standing next to them. While you had never met the prince before, you were certainly taken aback by his looks.

“y/n, it appears you have a suitor,” your father announces, looking proudly at the handsome boy.

“y/n, nice to meet you,” he bows. “My name is Jaemin.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jaemin,” you repeat his name, doing a curtsy of your own.

“Why don’t the two of you take a walk through the gardens as we talk?” your mother suggests. You nod and lead the way out to the back of the castle to the large garden. It was late enough that all the other workers would be done with work, leaving just you and the prince.

The two of you talk about more shallow things, getting to know about favorite colors, animals, or other useless information. You laugh along at his jokes, and find yourself swooning over his charming personality and even more charming smile.

“y/n,” his voice changes, indicating a more serious discussion. “I know you might not want to marry me. You don’t love me, well, you barely even know me. But please take some time to consider my proposal as I’ll be visiting for the rest of the week. While this marriage might be more about our parents bringing together our kingdoms, we can learn to love each other and live happy lives.”

You nod along, staying quiet to allow the boy to finish his speech. “Of course, I will consider it, Prince Jaemin,” you offer a smile to show sincerity. “It appears to be getting late. I wish you a good night,” you say before speeding off towards your bedroom.

Little did you know, your friend was watching you from the window of his quarters. Unable to hear the conversations, he watches as you laughed with the handsome prince, wishing that it was him you looked at like that.

In your room, you lied down on your bed, the springs squeaking with your sudden plunge. You were overwhelmed with odd feelings of guilt in your head, but also in your heart. For some reason you couldn’t figure out why you felt that way. There was nothing wrong with marrying Prince Jaemin; it’s what your father would want. It didn’t bother you that the marriage was political and not for love, that wasn’t the issue.

“Miss y/n,” Jisung’s voice hums outside your door.

“Come in,” you instruct.

The boy slides through your door and there it is. That’s where your feelings are coming from. It’s not that you don’t love Prince Jaemin; it’s that you do love Jisung. He seems to not notice your crisis as he continues on as usual. Well, not quite usual, as he seems more quiet and down at the moment.

“So, how’d it go?” he looks up at you. You immediately look away, your emotions for the boy suddenly making you shy.

“Well,” you tell him, afraid to admit how you really feel.

“That is… good,” he falters, hoping you didn’t catch the way he paused.

“Yes.” It is as though you two are the strangers here, as neither one of you are able to articulate yourselves. 

“Well,” Jisung clears his throat. “Is there anything I can do for you before you sleep?” He asks, following his duties as your personal servant. You wish he was asking as a friend instead. Even if he is your best friend, you know he only asks because it is his job.

“Yes, actually,” you nod. “Can you sing for me?” It was something Jisung hadn’t done in years. When you were kids, he’d sing as you fell asleep, or if you were frightened by a storm or just loud noises in the castle. Unconsciously, you smile as you reminisce on the old times. When was it that you fell in love with the servant boy? You aren’t exactly sure, but at least you know now.

“Yes, of course,” Jisung breaks you out of your thoughts with his voice.

“Wait,” you interrupt him before he can even begin. “Let me put on my pajamas first, so you can sing me to sleep like old times, okay?”

“Of course, y/n/n, I’ll just be outside your door while you change.”

Only a few moments later you okay his return, being that you changed as quickly as you could, not wanting to wait another minute to hear Jisung’s voice. You hoped it was as melodious as it was before puberty when his voice literally dropped like 10 octaves.

He walks in as you settle back under your covers. Sitting at the edge of your bed he asks you, "what would you like me to sing for you?"

"Do you remember the song from when we were kids?" He nods in response, beginning the familiar tune. You're not sure how, but his voice sounds even better now than it did back then. It almost makes you wonder why he's a servant boy instead of a performer. You close your eyes as he continues to sing softly, not quite asleep but also not quite awake. 

"Sweet dreams, princess," he whispers at the end of the song. He brings his hand up to brush a few stray strands of hair out of your face when you flutter your eyes open. "Ahhh, you're not asleep?!" He jumps in surprise, retracting his hand from you. But you were quicker than he, holding onto his wrist and placing his delicate touch back to your cheek.

"Sungie?"

"Yes, y/n/n."

"Do you think I should just marry Prince Jaemin?"

"I don't think I can answer that for you, y/n."

"Ji, I don't care if you're a servant or a prince. You're my best friend, and your opinion matters to me. I'm just worried," you whisper, trying your best to blink away the wetness in your eyes that threatens to overflow. "What if I make the wrong choice?" His heart nearly breaks seeing you so worried.

"I don't think there is a wrong choice. Just do what you think is right. You know, in your heart or whatever," he laughs at the mention of the cliche phrase.

"I don't think I can do that," you admit, offering no further explanation.

"What do you mean?"

"Because of who I am. Because the king is my father. I don't think I can do what my heart wants," a tear spills from the outer corner of your eye, but before it can make its path Jisung has already wiped it away with his finger.

"You should worry about this another time," he decides. "For now, you should get some sleep."

"Sungie?"

"Yes, y/n/n?"

"Will you stay, please?"

"Okay, but you have to promise to actually fall asleep this time," he warns you with a false, stern tone. You giggle at his antics but it dies down as he starts the song again and you drift into a far away dream.

The following morning your servant goes to wake you up as usual. He knocks on your door, waiting for the okay to enter. When it doesn't come, he cracks the door slightly to peer in. He spots you on your bed, snoring, still asleep in your dreamland.

"Y/n," he calls softly, not wanting to startle you. At no avail, he decides to enter in. Placing a hand to your shoulder, he shakes you as gently as possible. Unfortunately, you react by jolting awake and grabbing his arm violently, causing Jisung to fall on top of you.

"Princess, are you okay?" He asks loudly as the two of you look at each other with wide eyes and shocked expressions.

"Yes, yes," you catch your breath, suddenly aware of the close proximity of the boy on top of you, as well as the appearance of how this situation presents itself to any bystanders. Jisung picks up on this and quickly gets off of you while not letting go of your hold on him. "You just surprised me is all."

"You didn't have a bad dream, did you?"

"No, not at all," you grin, thinking back to your dream of running away with the boy you loved and being able to live a simple, happy life.

"You know, you should go to sleep earlier so this doesn't happen," he scolds you in a joking manner, interrupting your thoughts and bringing you back to reality. "Regardless, breakfast is ready, and do remember that we have guests, including your suitor."

You thank him as you make yourself presentable for the visiting family and prepare yourself for the war you're about to dive into with your parents.

"Mother," you speak after everyone had finished their meal. "May I discuss something with you?"

You excuse yourselves and head to an empty hall to talk.

"Mother,  I do not wish to marry Prince Jaemin," you tell her.

"Why? He is a perfectly good young man and if you turn him away, there might not be another suitor of his worth!"

"Because I do not love him," you try to explain but she cuts you off.

"Y/n, you need to think about this more seriously. This will affect everyone, so you must be wise about it."

"Mother, I love Jisung, I wish to marry him," you admit.

She gasps at your nonsensical confession. "The servant boy? Are you trying to ruin the kingdom?" She holds the bridge of her nose in frustration. "No more talk about this right now. We'll discuss this later, but please reconsider your affection for the prince."

She storms away, absolutely appalled by your suggestion. You run the other way, toward your bedroom. You don't care about the possibility of getting scolded for running as tears quickly make their way down your cheeks. Even after you've closed the door, they refuse to let up. 

As you sob into your pillow, there's a familiar tap at your door. "Miss y/n?" Jisung asks.

"Go away," you cry.

"Princess, are you alright?" You hate that you make him sound so worried. You hate that you're in love with a boy that you cannot be with.

"Go away," you repeat yourself, hearing his footsteps become more distant as you begin to despise the sound of the shoes hitting the tile floors.

You pull a pillow over your face and continue your outburst. It feels as though your tears will go on forever in endless sorrow. Until another knock sounds outside your door.

"Princess, I brought you some tea," you hear your best friend's muffled voice call out.

"Jisung please, just go-"

Blatantly ignoring your orders, he waltzes right into your room, stopping you mid sentence. 

"Y/n, what happened?" That disgusted feeling of hatred returns as you hear the worry dripping from his voice.

You open your mouth to explain, but only loud sobs escape your lips. Jisung instantly puts down the tray of tea and wraps you in a hug. "I don't want to marry the prince."

"Well if that's what you-"

"I want to marry you!" You cut him off, but refuse to let him go. You're afraid that if you release your hold on him, he'll reject you or leave. 

"But, princess," he starts. There it is, the coldness of your unfortunate situation. Reality hits you in the side of the head like a stone. You're a princess and he's a servant.

Tightening your grip on his sleeves, you admit your feelings for him. "I don't love Prince Jaemin. Jisung, I love you."

"I- I love you too, y/n," he whispers, rubbing his hands soothingly down your back as you slowly stop crying.

You finally pull away, looking at him through- now dry- puffy, red eyes. Jisung grabs either side of your face and slowly leans in, giving you enough time to recoil in favor of not doing what you're about to do. Much to his liking, you meet him halfway, pressing a long kiss to his lips. You allow yourself to revel in the bliss that is your lips on Jisung's, before you have to pull away to catch your breath.

"Let's just run away," you say, impulsively. 

"Okay," he exhales, not a care in the world for anything but you. "I'll meet you here at midnight, yeah?"

You nod. "I'll be waiting," you mumble against his lips as the two of you dive back into one another.

The rest of the day passes slowly. Jaemin continues his attempt to court you as your mother watches over you like a hawk. Her judgmental eyes follow your every move closely.

Finally, the day is closing and the servants return to their quarters to rest. The castle falls asleep, all except for you as you wait impatiently for the boy you love to come. You check the time to see midnight has long passed and begin to fret. Had Jisung fallen asleep. Had he left without you? You push that thought out of your mind, Jisung wouldn't do that. But a worse idea creeps into your brain. Had Jisung gotten caught?

You stare at your ceiling, wanting to cry. But you feel as though you've had enough crying these past few days and settle on slowly worrying yourself to sleep.

The seemingly regular knock on your door wakes you up in the morning. You desperately wait to hear Jisung's voice call your name from behind the door, to let you know that breakfast is ready, and that he is okay.

"Y/n," the voice calls. Your heart drops as the door opens, revealing the queen.

"Where's Jisung?" You ask as your heart races with stress.

She sighs, closing her eyes to emphasize her distaste with your behavior. "He's gone."

"What do you mean 'he's gone?'" With each passing second you can feel your heart break more and more.

"We wouldn't want him to interfere with your affections for Prince Jaemin," she begins to explain.

"Where is he?" You ask through gritted teeth. Your overwhelmed with anger towards your mother as she carelessly avoids your question.

"Your father and I have decided that you will be marrying the prince," she informs you, not an ounce of remorse in her tone. "And breakfast is ready, so hurry up. The prince is waiting."

As underground as you can be, you ask everyone about your missing servant. Even your go to gossip boy, Chenle, hasn't heard or seen from him all day. As far as the castle is concerned, he no longer exists.

For the rest of the day, you put on a happy mask, not letting anyone see you falter as the preparations for your engagement ceremony begin. Your false exterior only falls once you're alone, behind the closed door of your room. It is then that you realize you cannot blame anyone else.

This was your fault.

If only you hadn't devised that stupid plan. Jisung would still be here and maybe you could have convinced him to bring your favorite servant along. But, even then, you're not his, you're Jaemin's. But maybe the prince was right. Maybe you can learn to love him. But somewhere deep down you know that's not true. You already gave your heart along with your first kiss to your best friend, the servant boy.

[aislinmurdock]

breakfast & confessions

Who: Aislin Murdock & Ridley

When: 13/01/2021 - early morning

Where: Murdock Kitchen

What: Ridley asks Aislin about her past with Wesley after he came over for dinner the night before.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1008

Notes: None

It was morning and Aislin was in a really good mood. Despite having definitely been awake for way too long, drinking coffee with dinner will do that to a person, but Aislin wasn’t the type of person to turn down someone else bringing her coffee, especially if that someone actually knew how she took her coffee. Maybe it was the buzz of coffee still in her system, maybe she’d hit a second wind. Maybe her first love had walked back into her life with coffee and donuts and sweet words and his stupidly handsome face with promises to stay. Okay, actually, it was probably that. It was probably Wesley, but she didn’t want to dwell on it. For the first time in over a month, she wasn’t actually having to fake being in a good mood.

Ridley, was less enthused about the morning, but couldn’t help but smile at the way their foster mum moved about the kitchen, dancing along to the song playing from the bluetooth speaker in the corner. Sea shanties and Irish rock at not even 6 am was a new one, but it could definitely have been worse. There had been a lot of depressing music lately and even Ridley had been struggling to listen to it so early in the morning.

“So, you and Wesley dated, right?” Ridley’s voice pulled Aislin’s attention away from where she’d been working on breakfast and she barely managed to withhold the scoff that tried to cross her lips.

“What makes you think that?” Her voice was definitely a few octaves too high as she turned her attention back to breakfast.

“You just happen to know the guy who plays Lucifer well enough to invite him over for dinner when none of your other friends have come over and yet you’ve never mentioned him before. I haven’t even met Supergirl. Which means there’s history there.” They crossed their arms over their chest. Okay, they had a point and Aislin didn’t like that, because she couldn’t lie to them.

“Fine, yes. We dated.” She sighed. “Did you grab your paper off the printer?” She turned her attention from the mostly finished breakfast to grab a med container out of the cabinet by the sink and set it next to the plate on the counter.

“When did you meet? When did you date? What happened?” Ridley double checked their bag, making sure they’d grabbed the aforementioned paper, moving over to sit down at the counter. 

“Years ago. We were at some formal function for the BBC, they’re dreadfully boring, and he’s good to take the piss with.” Aislin shrugged, moving over to the coffee maker and pouring them both a mug full. “We were friends, who turned into more, slowly then all at once. As cliche as that sounds. It was easy, going from friends to more. Then, in 2015 we actually decided to put some sort of label on it. I was already going to go on a social media break, I was tired of people and questions. So it made being together easier. Or as easy as dating when you’re both constantly on the go can be. Which was hard.” As she spoke she dished up breakfast and settled at the counter next to Ridley.

“Okay, so, what happened? How did you y’know end up not together? You were obviously close and you still are.” Ridley started eating and Aislin did too. She didn’t really like that they were trying to delve so far into her and Wesley’s past. Though, she had to admit that she couldn’t necessarily blame them. The relationship she had with Wesley, even now, was special and different to every other relationship she had.

“The distance just pulled us apart. There’s only so many texts and calls and last minute flights for visits that only last a few hours that two people can do before it stops being enough. We were both at places in our careers  where stopping and slowing down didn’t feel like an option and then, next thing either of us knew, we’d lost contact.” She shrugged, it was after that point that she’d looked into dating again and found herself with Luce. It had felt like fate.

“Wait. What? You just got busy?” Ridley had been expecting some decision to call it quits. To keep just being friends. But, to just stop without any sort of closure? Definitely not on the list.

“Basically, yeah.” 

“Let me get this straight-” Aislin shot them a look. “-er than either of us. You were in a relationship with Wesley. A relationship built on a very deep friendship. And the only reason this relationship stopped is because you both got busy. You didn’t even really  break up did you?”

Aislin’s eyebrows furrowed and she focused on her food for a bit. “Take your meds.” She reminded them, motioning to the med container sat on the counter. 

“You didn’t! You never broke up! No wonder you got so close to him so fast. You never stopped liking him!” Aislin back handed them gently on the shoulder. 

“Shush, and take your meds.” Her face was bright red, as she tried to hide her face. Ridley laughed, taking their meds.

“Does he know?! Does he feel the same?!” Ridley was pretty sure that Wesley probably felt the same, they’d seen the way he’d looked at Aislin. The way he’d react to her, how attentive he’d been. It was so clear in the way he looked at her.

“Yes, but I can’t. We can’t. I was in a relationship for nearly three years. I was engaged. Planning a wedding. He deserves better than that. He deserves… He deserves to not be a rebound. I’ve too much on my plate at the moment, even if I wasn’t heartbroken.” Aislin sighed, downing her mug of coffee and looking at the time. “C’mon, finish up, it’s near time to leave.” 

And like that Aislin had ended the conversation, standing from her seat and continuing with the last of her morning routine.