#even worse how dare you insinuate he's doing something nice without knowing!?

[technically-human]

Stone hates people too

[sassyhobbits]

ohhh could we have a “why are you awake right now” part two? 😍🙏

pt 1

enjoy!!!!

~~~

Rowan hadn’t been sleeping for nearly long enough when he awoke to the thud of someone banging their fist impatiently on his front door.

He really didn’t want to get out of bed. For some reason, it was extra comfortable and warm this morning. When he finally deigned to open his eyes, Rowan realized why.

Aelin was curled into his bare chest, his arms wrapped around her, holding the woman close. The events from the previous night rushed back to him. Maybe it made him a selfish prick, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to have her back.

The knocking came again, harder this time. Rowan reined in a groan, carefully detangling himself from Aelin, not wanting to disturb her peaceful rest. He slipped quietly from the room, cursing under his breath as the banging came again. Who the fuck had the audacity to be so demanding this early in the morning?

The answer to his question became obvious when Rowan threw open the door with an irritable “What?” and found Chaol Westfall standing outside his front door.

Chaol looked as though he had seen better days. His chestnut hair was messy, dark shadows under his eyes suggesting a night of little sleep, and his usually clean-shaven face had a hint of scruff.

“Where is she?” Chaol demanded, forgoing any greetings or even apologies for disturbing him. He looked over Rowan’s shoulder towards the couch, as if she would be sleeping there, before looking back at him. Chaol’s jaw clenched when he took in Rowan’s bare chest. He knew how it must have looked to him. Yet, he didn’t care. Not anymore.

Rowan knew who he was referring to, but he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. This was the man who had hurtled insults at Aelin the night before. “Where is who?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Chaol ground out. “She still shares her location with me. I know Aelin is here.”

“Regardless if she’s here or not, I don’t think she wants to talk to you.”

“It’s none of your fucking business. She’s my girlfriend.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Funny. She said you two broke up last night.”

“It was just an argument. I just need to see her.”

“Go home, Chaol. If she wants to talk to you, she will.”

Chaol opened his mouth as if to spit something nasty out, but faltered when the sound of a door opening came from behind him. Rowan looked over his shoulder and found Aelin stepping out of his room, eyes widening as she noted who he was speaking with.

“Chaol,” Aelin breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Rowan knew that this situation was looking worse and worse. Opening the door without a shirt, Aelin wandering out of his room so casually. Chaol was clenching his jaw so hard that he could have been on the verge of breaking a tooth.

“I wanted to talk, Aelin,” Chaol bit out.

“Oh,” said Aelin simply. “Uh, alright then.”

She padded down the hall, brushing by Rowan. He managed to catch her eye as she lingered in the threshold, raising a questioning brow. Are you sure? I can kick him out. Just give the word.

She gave an almost unperceivable shake of her hand, brushing her hand on his arm. It’s alright. I can handle this.

Rowan knew Chaol saw the tiny exchange and the casual touch. Chaol had always seemed uncomfortable when he and Aelin had touched casually, had those little conversations through their eyes. They had tried to keep it to a minimum when Chaol was around, but Rowan found he didn’t really care what he thought anymore.

Rowan reluctantly stepped back inside, shutting the door to give them so privacy. He had been fully intending to head back to his room, not wanting to eavesdrop, but the first words that came out of Chaol’s mouth stopped him in his tracks.

“You didn’t wait long, did you?” he asked, voice dripping in venom.

Rowan froze, understanding the insinuation.

“Excuse me?” Aelin said back slowly, in a way Rowan knew promised violence. He could practically see her crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“We have one argument and you go right to him. To his bed.”

“First of all, it wasn’t an argument. You broke up with me. Second, because you ended things with me, what I do after is none of your concern.”

Chaol released a bark of bitter laughter. “I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“That no matter what I did, you would never pick me. You’d always pick him.”

Rowan sucked down a sharp breath. He shouldn’t be listening, but he couldn’t get himself to walk away.

“Chaol-”

“No, Aelin,” he snapped, cutting her off. “Part of me probably always knew, but I hoped that I was wrong, that I could do something to get you to care for me the same way I care for you. But it had been a lost cause. Because you never loved me. You love Rowan, you have since we started dating.”

Rowan could have sworn time stopped in that moment. He barely dared to breathe, waiting for Aelin to speak up, to deny the accusation, to say he was being paranoid.

But she was silent.

Rowan knew that was an answer within itself.

…

Having Chaol turn up to Rowan’s apartment this morning had been an unpleasant surprise to begin with. The conversation they were having wasn’t doing much to change that.

Aelin had no defense against his last accusation. Because Chaol was right, even if she had hoped he wasn’t. She had been in love with Rowan for longer than she wanted to admit, but had been so frightened of losing his friendship, she had never said anything. When she had met Chaol, she saw it as an opportunity to finally move past those feelings she held for Rowan. That had probably doomed them from the start.

When Aelin stayed silent, Chaol took a step forward. “How long were you planning on stringing me along, Aelin? Until Rowan finally made a move? Was I just a distraction until then?”

“No, Chaol. Gods, no. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“I honestly don’t even know. I don’t think I ever did.”

Aelin wasn’t sure why, but his words hurt. He was acting as if their entire relationship was based on nothing. She had cared for him, and she still did. Just… not in the way he cared for her.

A tense silence blanketed them. Aelin knew she should look him in the eye, but couldn’t get herself to. She hugged herself tightly, staring down at her bare feet.

“Did you fuck him?” Chaol eventually asked.

Aelin flinched, looking at him incredulously. “Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know, Aelin!” he shouted. “I just really don’t know anymore! Are you even sorry? The least bit guilty?”

In that moment, she could have said yes and apologized. But then she would be lying. And she didn’t give a damn about Chaol’s feelings right now. Aelin only straightened, holding her head higher, before saying. “No. I’m not.”

Chaol scoffed bitterly. “You’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He shook his head, eyes filled with fury. “I swear to the gods, Aelin… one day-”

Whatever vileness was about to spill out of his mouth stopped when the door opened. Aelin was prepared to snap, thinking it was Rowan coming to defend her when she already told him she could handle it, but her words withered on the tip of her tongue at the sight of Lorcan Salvaterre lurking in the doorway.

Lorcan had been living with Rowan for a while now. He was an unpleasant man, and Aelin delighted in antagonizing him. They had a relationship built on hurtling cheap insults at one another, but kept it cordial beside that. On top of being Rowan’s roommate, he was dating one of Aelin’s closest friends, Elide. They didn’t maim each other for their sakes.

Lorcan’s face was stormy, extremely pissed off. Normally, that expression was directed towards Aelin, but today, it was for Chaol.

“It’s my day off,” Lorcan said lowly. “And I’d like to sleep in without you being an ass towards Galathynius so loudly. I’d appreciate it if you left.”

Chaol ground his teeth, but relented. It seemed he was just as tired of this useless argument as she was. He turned his gaze towards her once more. It was cold, like they were stranger. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned.

“Goodbye, Aelin,” Chaol said before stalking off.

There was a sort of finality to his voice that told Aelin there would be no coming back.

She released a long breath, unfurling her fists and looking towards Lorcan.

“I’m sorry we woke you,” Aelin said earnestly.

Lorcan shrugged. “It’s not your fault. You two done with?”

“Yeah. I suppose we are.”

“Good,” Lorcan grunted. “I never liked him anyway.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“Exactly.”

Despite everything that had just happened, that the wounds from Chaol’s words still stung, Aelin snorted out a tiny laugh. Even if she and Lorcan always gave each other shit, they tended to stick up for one another when anyone else was giving them shit.

“Well,” Lorcan sighed, glancing back inside. Aelin followed his gaze, finding Rowan standing there. Her stomach dropped, realizing he must have heard everything. “I’m going to go back to sleep. You two can… talk, I guess.”

Aelin gave a stiff nod, allowing Lorcan to close the door behind her. He didn’t say anything else before heading back to his room and quickly shutting himself in, leaving her alone with Rowan in the living room. Aelin had never felt nervous in front of Rowan before until now. Her hands opened and closed a few times, wondering what to say.

“How much did you hear?” she managed to croak out.

Rowan’s lips were tight. “Everything.”

Aelin nodded, finding it hard to look Rowan in the eye. Gods, if Chaol had fucked up her friendship with Rowan, she would murder him. Bastard.

“Was it true?” Rowan asked, taking a step closer. “What he said?”

Aelin heart was pounding in her chest, body flushed with fear. She managed to look him in the eye. “Yeah… yeah, it was.” She bit her lip hard. “I- uh… you’re my best friend, Rowan but you’re more than that. And if you don’t feel the same, I understand. And I understand if you need space after all of that.”

He didn’t say anything. The silence was killer. Aelin’s eyes flickered down to her feet again, feeling her eyes burn. She felt vulnerable, and she hated feeling vulnerable.

She heard Rowan take a few long strides forward until he was before her. His fingers nudged her chin, tilting her face upwards to look at him again. Aelin was always struck stupid by how handsome he was, how comforting the familiar planes of his face were to her. His green eyes held hers, refusing to back down.

“You love me?” Rowan whispered, so soft that Aelin nearly didn’t hear him.

Aelin swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes. I do.”

The air between them was electric, setting her skin on fire. Aelin wasn’t even sure she was breathing as Rowan slowly leaned forward and closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against her softly. It was nothing more than a whisper of a kiss, but it destroyed and remade her nonetheless. Aelin’s eyes fluttered shut, leaning closer to Rowan and his warmth as he cupped her face gently.

Rowan pulled back, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Aelin peeled her eyes open as Rowan rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you too, Aelin.”

Her heart jumped, a shaking smile finding its way to her lips. “Yeah?”

Rowan nodded, his eyes alight with joy. “Yeah. I really do.”

Aelin released a tiny, disbelieving laugh, feeling her eyes well with tears. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the back of Rowan’s neck as he pulled her close, face buried in her hair. Never in a million years did she think that her feelings would be returned.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, wrapped up in one another. Aelin would have been fine remaining like that for the rest of eternity, but weariness caught up with her. The late night combined with the early morning argument had taken a toll on her.

“Ro?”

“Hm?”

“Can we go back to bed for a bit?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

He slipped his hand into hers, walking them back towards the bedroom. Aelin happily crawled back into the bed, snuggling back under the comforter. Rowan slid in next to her, not hesitated to pull her tight into his side. Aelin relished his warmth, his pine and snow scent, the feeling of his strong arms around her. She could get used to this.

Aelin fell back asleep with a smile on her face.

[sixofpomegranates]

Rain in California - Act 1 - Fame

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 3 - Fame🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ |  🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 6.4k

🥀click here for the previous chapter🥀

TW: ANGST (LIKE REALLY),  mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder/abortion/miscarriage, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of OD, PTSD, Self-Harm/Cutting, religious trauma, past physical/psychological abuse on child/teen, abusive parents, teen pregnancy, murder, injustice, withdrawal symptoms,

Songs in this Chapter:

Heartbeat - Don Johnson

Seven hours and a Gastric Suction later, [y/n] felt like hell.

Her throat hurt and the medication they´d given her didn’t work. Now she laid in her hospital room, in her uncomfortable bed and was mostly angry at herself. [y/n] didn’t know why she had acted so stupid…well, probably because she had been high as hell. Not feeling able to control herself, when taken more than usual.

 She didn’t want to be so erratic, but when she was high, it just all seemed so easy. Saying the things she thought, doing things she normally would never even dare thinking of, not being hurt by others...On drugs she felt free. Herself.

Although she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

 When Spencer was holding her in the bathroom?

That was the first time somebody had said something to her about her addictions, except for ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’, ’It´s not that bad.’, ‘We´re here once you´re ready.’ and ’She´s just having a rough time.’.

It was the first time somebody really seemed to see through her and literally forced her to look at herself in the mirror. To care for her enough to show her tough love. Leroy, Hank and Tom had tried it, but given up on her, sure they supported and cared for her still, but for them she was already too far gone. And they were probably right about it.

 But the dog? He still had wanted to help her, even after she tried being her ugliest.

 She had gone too far, still remembering his face, the terror in it, when she cut her wrist, when she had taken all her pills at once. [y/n] had wanted to hurt him like that, her mind, her stupid junkie mind, had her convinced, that doing it would be a great way to get back at him.

Because she felt hurt, being rejected by him.

 Most likely she had scarred him for life. And now he hadn’t come in, since she was allowed to have visitors, and probably would never come back.

 She has successfully driven away the only one that had still cared enough.

 Now, mostly sober, she felt like a monster, aware that she was a wreck beyond repair.

 Of course she had, in the beginning, thought about stopping. But the drugs were the smaller evil to her, since they calmed her mind and made her forget the pain. She would stay alone forever, unworthy other people´s love, her mind should at least be allowed to be numb.

 *****

 “I came as fast as I could. What happened?”, Philip handed Spencer a duffle bag, filled with [y/n]´s clothing. He had asked him to bring it, since Spencer didn’t know how long she would stay.

“They pumped her stomach and had to stitch the wound on her wrist.”, he stated, making the short manager´s eyes go wide.

“Are you insane? What if they hurt her vocal cords?”, the tall one tried to remain calm, but had to really force himself to not hit Philip.

 Why was that a priority?

 “I didn’t wanna let her die. She could´ve OD´d. What would you have done?”, Spencer asked slightly aggravated.

“Carry her to the bathroom and force her to throw up, until nothing´s in her stomach anymore. Then I usually take her to bed and give her water every hour and feed her soup until she´s better.”, the manager explained and Spencer felt like that had to be a joke.

 “That has happened before?”, he asked baffled and Philip nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times, but she always either took something or cut herself. Never both at the same time. Where you two fighting again?”, he asked reproachful and Spencer felt the guilt sink into his heart. “See, agent Prentiss? This is why I said, [y/n] didn’t need a bodyguard.”

“I´m sorry, but I don’t think that this is the result of having a bodyguard. It´s much more one to them not getting along and [y/n] being highly addicted to a couple of substances.”, Emily stepped in for Spencer.

 The manager just ignored the her obvious insinuation of the rockstars declining mental help, before going into [y/n]´s room. The agents then just looked at each other before going in too.

 *****

 This was the first time Spencer saw [y/n], since they got here. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to be alone with her before. She was laying in her bed, bandage on her left wrist, looking directly at him when he came in. They had taken of her make-up, making Spencer realize, that she was prettier without it. Her jet black, dark hair in a ponytail. To him she looked calmer and softer like this. The real girl behind the façade. Philip was already all over her.

 “[y/n], you look awful.”, he said, shaking up the pillow as she got up a little, to sit.

“Feel like it too.”, her voice sounded a little raspy.

“Poor girl. How is your voice? Do you need anything?” “Fine. My throat´s just a little sore. Can you check me out of here? The faster, the better. That way I can go home without the media knowing.”, Spencer and Emily shared a look.

“The paparazzies showed up an hour ago.”, Emily stated, making [y/n] nod.

 She leaned further back in her pillow and looked at Spencer, like she wanted to say something.

 “C-Can you still check me out, Philly?”, Philip nodded.

“Of course. I´ll be back asap and then we´ll take you home so you can pack.”, he walked outside and [y/n] looked at Emily.

“Can – I don’t know – you maybe go with him?”, she asked her friendly.

 The dark haired woman shared a look with Spencer, who nodded at her. Signaling, that he was okay being alone with the singer again. Emily then nodded and walked after Philip, closing the door on her way out. For a second Spencer thought about leaving the room too. To, no longer, have this black-haired demon take hits against his sanity, but then her voice cut into the silence of the room.

 “I´m sorry.”, she said and Spencer wondered, if she was being honest.

“For almost killing yourself?”, he asked her sarcastically and she shook her head.

“For how I treated you.”

“I´ve been through worse. You´d need to be trying way harder, if you want me to break.”, he answered her cold and she began looking at her hands.

“I´m sorry, I tried pressuring you, to take drugs.”, Spencer shrugged at that. “You were high. If I didn’t relapse after the love of my life was killed or when I was put wrongfully into prison, I won´t relapse because a pretty girl is offering me drugs.” “Doesn’t make it better or okay. I saw the token in your room, when I was looking for my pills. I knew and still did it. You must really hate me.”, [y/n]´s voice sounded like she was about to cry.

“I don’t hate you.”, he said gently, sitting down on her bed. [y/n] let out a self-degrading laugh and looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “No, it´s okay. I deserve it.”, she looked over to her IV drip bag, filled with clear liquid, and hit it slightly. “That stuff makes me sentimental.”, she tried saying jokingly, but sounded just sad.

 Spencer looked at her for a while, thinking about what he could say. He hadn’t thought she would apologize for how she acted and he had meant what he had told her. He didn’t hate her. Yes, she was emotionally draining to be around, it wasn’t all bad though.

 Spencer remembered Philip and how he had talked about the two sides of people.

 “That´s no medication, [y/n].”, she looked at him confused. “You lost a lot of water so…Yeah. What you´re feeling is the drugs wearing off.”, he cooed, holding himself back with the rambling. “Nice. That´s what every junkie loves to hear.”, both chuckled a little. “Hey, I give you ten thousand dollar, if you get me some pills, my head hurts like hell.”, she said it in a joking manner, making Spencer chuckle and shake his head.

“No chance. I´m not bribable.”

“Makes you one of few in Hollywood.”, the sound of rain made [y/n] look to the window. “Can you open it?”, he nodded and got up. “Thanks. I love the sound of rain. People always portrait it to be so sad when it rains, but I think it´s nice…cleansing.”

 He opened the window and sat next to her bed on the chair. They listened to the sound of raindrops hitting the streets for a while, when he decided to take the shot and ask [y/n], what had been on his mind for the last hours.

 “Why are you doing it?”, she looked at Spencer, making a questioning noise. “Cutting yourself, taking drugs.”

“The pain makes you feel alive and the drugs help you hide the side effects of being it.”, Spencer chuckled a little.

“So melodramatic.”

 High, she would have probably devoured him, but now she only smirked and rolled her eyes. By now a certain realness tried finding its way in both their voices.

 “What was your reason for taking them then?”, she asked, leaning in his direction.

 Spencer thought a second, honesty was earned and he wanted her to be honest with him. So he gave her a trust bonus, reviling a bit of his darkness.

 “I wasn’t giving the chance of choosing to take them. I was kidnapped and my tormentor, at least one of his personalities, thought he would help me handling the pain.”

 He could´ve sworn to see empathy in her eyes, but instead of showing it or whispering words of condolences, like so many others would do in this situation, she just smiled.

 “And there I was, thinking you´re just a hypocrite.”, he shrugged. “Well…I am one.” “How?”, [y/n] asked, a little frown appearing on her forehead. “Because you were right. I think you are attractive and maybe my motive wasn’t all just about protecting you at the concert.”, he could feel himself blush.

“I´m sorry for acting out, after…you know.”

“It´s okay. Would you feel better, knowing that I really hated making the decision, to not sleep with you?”, she nodded.

“A little.” “Good. Cause it was. But it was the right thing to do.”, she smiled a little and began focusing on her hands again.

“You see, I get it now and I´m glad, at least one of us, has made a right decision tonight but…I don’t know how I´ll be to you, when I´m high again.”, her concerned voice made him take her hand. Being afraid of your own mind, no longer being able to control it, was something he was very familiar with. “Then don’t be. We could get you into rehab.”

 [y/n] chuckled and took his hand with both of hers, caressing it with her thumbs. She seemed to be thinking. Making Spencer believe she may be taking his offer. But the longer she thought, the more obvious it became, that she was losing to something dark inside her head.

“Would be a waste of time.”, she whispered, her playfulness gone, as if reality just slapped her into the face.

“But if you continue like this, you´ll be dead soon.”, [y/n] gave him a gentle smile.

“You always say that, like I don’t plan on dying with twenty-seven.”

 For a second he tried reading her, hoping she was joking, having made those suicidal jokes a little to often in the last days. When he didn’t like the answer, he prepared himself to hear it from her.

“Do you?”, she nodded. “I´m going to join ‘Club 27’ and then drift into oblivion. My songs and everything I did, only becoming an relic from the past.”

 The way she said it, made it sound like she had already made peace with that decision. It frightened Spencer, making him think of how to make her re-think it.

“What about your friends?”

“There´s only the band…and I started pushing them away from me, a long time ago. I saw how it will end for me and decided not to have it hurt them, like it hurt me, when I found my mom.”, he shook his head. He refused to accept this as an answer.

“And what about yourself? You can’t just feel like dying is the only option.” “It´s not. But it´s the most relieving one.”

 The calmness in her voice and body language showed him so much. What had driven her into that state? A state were death was seen as a relieve, because everything else hurt too much. Depression. She showed signs of it. Many people with addicted use it to cope with their mental problems. What had happened to her? His mind traveled back to the day before, to the only moments when she had let her façade slip.

 To the silver bullet that would kill her.

 “What happened to your baby?”, he asked her stern and she looked at him defeated.

“Oh, I see…I´ve been profiled. What do you think happened?”

“You lost it.”, she nodded, but he continued, carefully watching her body language. He wanted answers, but would stop when she would get too uncomfortable. “Probably because of your abusive father.”, she nodded again, seeming a little numb to his words. “Was he religious?”, the black-haired girl chuckled and answered him a little sarcastic.

“Depends on how religious you´d call a reverend. Why?”

“Religious trauma or trying to shock people. Your music, I mean.”

 For a second [y/n] let go of his hand, making him rest in her lap. Spencer refused to pull it away, if she would start talking, he wanted her to know that he was still there. He had, by now, enough pieces of the puzzle, showing him a dark picture of her past. A reason, why she tried to be high so often.

 Reality was a sharp knife and its cuts couldn’t hurt so bad, when you numb yourself.

 “My father was always hitting my mom, but when she then took off, there was only me and him. He forced me into the mold of the perfect, religious daughter and when I wasn’t as obedient as he would´ve liked, he´d make me read the bible for hours and beat me senseless.”, she started gesturing to her stomach and chest area. “Of course only hitting me in places, nobody would see the bruises. When I was fifteen, I got caught trying to smoke for the first time, by a teacher. As they notified my father, he locked me into the dark broom closet for a week. Out of spite, I then started smoking regularly and met a boy through it, Daniel.”

 Spencer watched [y/n]´s face light up for a second. She looked like JJ or Rossi, when they were talking about Will and Krystall. Like he probably did, when he was thinking about Maeve.

 “He went to the same school as I and his abusive parents were addicts, like my mom had been. We kinda bonded over that and would sneak out at night, spending hours together, talking about the stupidest things. Thinking we were so deep and intellectual. He, at one point, started stealing his parents weed, so we could get high together. Made getting beaten easier. The time with Daniel was the first and last time I ever felt those butterflies. You know? This childish feeling of love?”

 She smiled at him as he nodded, remembering those butterflies too, but then the smile darkened and she took Spencer’s hand again. As if to try and hold onto him, shielding herself from the dark memories creeping up.

 “I got pregnant with sixteen. A shame. I managed to hide it for a few weeks and Daniel and I came up with the childish idea of running away together. We thought, we could just get jobs somewhere else, buy a home and become a family…Like foolish kids.”, her self-degrading laugh broke Spencer’s heart, as she tried swallowing her tears.

“And it didn’t work.”, he whispered and she only laughed, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Of course it didn’t. A woman from church had overheard us talking and the rumor of me being pregnant was already out there, since I threw up so often at school. So she thought she would help me, if she told my father.”, Spencer squeezed her hand a little. “You wanna know what he did?”, he shook his head.

 “What?”

“He waited for us to meet at night. As I crawled out of the window, he stormed outside with his shotgun and confronted us. After I admitted to being pregnant he hit me, making Daniel step between us and start fighting with my dad to protect me and the baby…and my dad- he-…he then just shot him. In-…In cold blood, just pulled the fucking trigger.”, [y/n] voice was filled with disbelieve. Like she still wasn’t able to believe what she had seen.

 “My father then grabbed me by the hair and tried getting me to go back into the house. I, obviously shocked about him just shooting my boyfriend, refused to and so he started beating and kicking me, till I stopped fighting back…Needless to say, I lost the baby after that.”

 As a few tear ran down her face, she let go of Spencer´s hand and wiped them away. Letting a cynical laugh follow.

 “That’s not even the best part of the story. Nothing happened.”, Spencer looked at her frowning.

“What do you mean with ‘Noting happened’. He shoot a teenager. Weren’t there any repercussions?”, she shook her head.

“No. Because he told the police, that he came outside to me screaming, because Daniel was beating me. Angry at me, for being pregnant. He stated that he just did what he had to do, to protect me.”, he shook his head in disbelieve.

“Weren’t you questioned? Didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“I would try telling, but nobody believed it. Because the reverend, a pillar of our community, would never do such thing. They thought I was just lashing out and framing my father, because I was high and angry at him for shooting my boyfriend...Daniel´s parents didn’t even care, too high to get what had happened. After that, I wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore, in fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything anymore. My father taught me at home and every Sunday I was allowed to go to church and pray to have my sins being forgiven.”

 Spencer nodded at the amount of information she had just given him.

He felt bad for her, started to understand her, started to hate her father and the cruel injustice she, Daniel and the baby had suffered.

Why had they only once, tried to get her into therapy?

The amount of suffered trauma had to end in a situation like this, left untreated.

It was eating her alive, suffocating her, and everybody who saw it, just slapped the ‘She´s gonna be okay’-Band-Aid on this gashing wound, moving on with their own life´s, while she was losing the battle inside her head. He got up and sat on the bed next to her, she scooted a little, giving him some room to lean back too. As he lifted an arm, [y/n] rested her head on his chest.

 “Then how did you get…viral…?”, he looked at him and the confused spoken word, smiling.

“You know about that?”

“Luke.”, he answered and she nodded. “I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but I was allowed to use our computer once a week for an hour. I would record myself singing and playing guitar on our shitty webcam and started uploading it, not thinking anybody would ever see it. With eighteen I got in contact with this guy, he said he was in the midst of establishing his own record label and he would love to pay my flight to LA, taking me under contract. I accepted and just ran as fast as I could, before my father could get me.”

 [y/n] again laughed cynical. Seemingly a coping mechanism of hers, to play down the pain and severity of things and situations.

 “When I arrived, he then offered me to stay with him, if I´d be…you know…nice to him. He earned a shit ton of money with my music, while I got nothing…But everything was better than going back home again.”, she sat up a little, so she could look at Spencer, again with that sparkle in her eyes.

 “At one point, when I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, I had to work at a pizza restaurant to afford rent. There I met Leroy, Tom and Hank at the Open-Mic-Night. I told them a little about what was going on and Hank sued that guys ass. He didn’t want anything in return…just happy to help me. If you think Hank is scary now, you would have shit yourself, seeing him in court!”

 Both chuckled. Spencer could, thankfully, only imagine how terrifying the fifty year old biker could get.

 “After winning the case I asked them if they were interested in becoming a band and we made some demo tracks with the money I had gotten. The label took us under contract and introduced us to Philip, who became our manager.”

 “But you weren’t into anything but marijuana. How did we end up here?”, she sighed.

 “The label has a lot of expectations surrounding me. One of them was for me, to go out and be publicly seen with their other artists, for the image. They were taking a lot of stuff and I always said no, sticking to weed. But somewhere along the line, I wanted to know how it felt. If my mom was right, for choosing it above me. And I think I get it now. Everything I told you before? My dad, my baby, Daniel? They´re gone. I´m able to standup for myself and not letting me being pushed into something I don’t want, like when that creep wanted me to whore myself out to him, just so I´d have a roof over my head. Life is just easier that way and thankfully shorter too.”, Spencer pulled her closer.

 “I like you like that.”, he almost whispered. “Depressed?”, [y/n] snickered and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Real.”

“Only fair. I´ve been a real bitch to you, the whole time.”, he shook his head again. “Not that bad.”, she hit his chest gently, while giggling. “Oh, please. I can handle it. Come on.”, he sighed playfully, admitting the truth. “Okay, yeah. You´ve been a bitch.”

 They laid there for a while, [y/n] seemingly thinking, before she talked again.

 “You´re gonna pass on babysitting duty for me now, I guess?”, she asked hesitant, making him chuckle.

“Nope. I´m gonna stay.”, [y/n] sat up and looked at him, like he had completely lost his mind.

“Why in the world, are you doing that to yourself?”, Spencer shrugged. “Savior complex.” “I´m not worth it.”, he shrugged again. “I know. But the sober girl inside you is. You know? The one that knows my name, speaks French with me while playing Mozart and puts a blanket over me when I fall asleep while reading.”

 Then she asked him something that hit too close to home. Revealing a reality he liked to ignore.

 “You can’t save everybody. You´re aware of that, right?”, he nodded as she laid back into bed, her head resting against his chest again. “But I can try.”, Spencer whispered against her ear.

“Would you mind just watching TV with me? Withdrawal headache´s a bitch.”

 Spencer grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. After many attempts of finding something interesting, [y/n] stopped him from switching the channels. They had come across an 80´s music special. Something with the name ‘Heartbeat’ by Don Johnson had just started playing. Although [y/n] didn’t move a lot, Spencer could tell she was excited. Moving her lips along the lyrics.

  “I don't care what you say

You can give it away

 Your money don't mean much to me.

I've been out on my own

Gonna got it alone now

 'Cause that's the way it's got to be.

Ev'rybody tells me how I can beat the odds for now.

Well I've been standing by the fire

But I just can't feel the heat.”

  “That’s a great song.”, Spencer shrugged, again not feeling too much connection to the music. But it did sound nice. At his shrugging she hit him a little and put on a badly played face of disbelieve and shock. “Show some respect for the classics!”, he laughed at her words. “Respect for the classics? You called Beethoven a deaf bitch.”, now [y/n] shrugged. “Touché.”, she giggled, laying her hand on her head as if to ease the pain.

  “Looking at me

It's easy to see

 You think you know just how I feel.

If you do to me wrong and it won't take me long

 Before my restless heart will heal.

I'm looking for a love

Love like mine”

  “That was good music back then.”, she whispered against his chest. “Heart break, real emotions…love that stuff.”

“Why don’t you play more of it then?”, Spencer asked, Luke in his mind telling him about their music just no longer trying to hit the feelings. [y/n] giggled a little. “I´m guessing…Luke told you?”, he nodded and she let out a sigh. “Remember when I told you about the label having expectations? Every song I make has to go through them first, before being released. At one point, I had nine songs, completely done and they only greenlit one of them. Told me the others ‘weren´t my style’, ‘not exactly my genre’ or ‘wouldn’t speak to my audience enough’. So I just stopped looking for the deeper emotions. Still love the music I make, but the feeling´s dead. My lyrics helped me coping at the beginning, but the restrictions the label set me, ended that.” “Why don’t you just write those songs again? It doesn’t matter if anybody hears them.”, he suggested to her chuckling in response.

  “They tell me it's so hard to find

But I can feel it in the rhythm of the heartbeat in the street.

 Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat”

  “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound, mon amour?”, Spencer looked at her for a second, flustered by the realness she let him see.

“Yes. For me it would.”, he told her, making her giggled. “I probably lost my ability for stronger emotions anyway. But thanks, Spencer.”

 His heart skipped a beat as she said his name.

  ���Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat

Beating like mine.”

  As the door opened Spencer quickly jumped up, Emily looking at him with a lifted eyebrow.

 “Uhmm…Hello?”, she asked, more meant as a ‘What´s going on?’. Philip walked in right after her, not having seen the both of them more or less cuddling in the hospital bed.

“Oh no, it´s raining again.”, he sighed as he closed the window and stepped aside for the nurse, who took out the IV from [y/n]´s arm. “Okay. I got you released from hospital, [y/n]. I have the papers and ta-da.”, he handed her a white little paper bag. “Your pain medication and antibiotics for the arm.”

 “Thanks.”, she answered and passed it over to Spencer. “Ca-Can you…so I take them correctly?”, he looked at her confused.

 “You sure?”, she nodded and Spencer smiled at her. Baby steps. “Of course.”

“I thought Dr. Reid would stop his bodyguard duty, now that you´re going to stay with me?”, [y/n] shrugged.

“I- I don’t know.” “You know, I can protect you too.”, Philip insured her. “Yeah…but I would feel safer with my guard dog around.”, she looked at the tall man. “Only if you´d be okay with that, Spencer.”

“More than okay.”, Spencer smiled at her, making her smile back.

“O-Okay, that´s fine. That´s gonna be fine. Dr. Reid can sleep in my office. Now get dressed, so we can pack your stuff at home.”

 Philip handed [y/n] her black duffle bag, Spencer had put on the floor next to her bed. She opened it and pulling out some jeans and a black sweater. When she tried to get up she was a shaky on her legs, but managed to go to the bathroom. Spencer stayed close to her, being able to catch her in case she´d fall. When she closed the door behind her, he looked at Philip and Emily.

 “How many paparazzies are out there?”, he asked and Emily held her breath, shortly thinking.

“Too many. Just checked before coming in. You guys better think of a plan, if you don’t want [y/n] to be seen by them and become five o'clock news.”, both men nodded and then looked at each other.

“Okay…so, Philip? Where do you park?”, Spencer asked. “Outside, visitors.”, he nodded and looked to his friend.

“Me too. Emily, you?”

“Car park.”, she answered and Spencer handed her his key.

“Okay. We trade. I take [y/n] home in Emily´s SUV. Emily takes [y/n]´s car and you, Philip, you just drive to the mansion. Maybe we can make them think she´s still in medical care, that way.”, all of them nodded to each other, not really knowing what more there was to tell. Not knowing if the plan would even work.

 *****

 When [y/n] looked in the mirror, in the tiny bathroom of her hospital room, after washing her face, she felt okay. Horrible, but okay.

 Feeling kind of stupid, having given Spencer her medication. It had felt right. But she didn’t know why. Did she want to make him happy? Well, he certainly was. But honestly? Nobody just stops being addicted for one person. Having your addiction tendencies being bound and under control solely for another person than yourself probably never works in the long term.

She knew she would have to stop for herself and that just wasn’t worth it.

She just wasn’t worth it.

Spencer would leave again, he was just another person in her life that would vanish, never to be heard from again. Her life would move on, just like it did now and that was it. It was okay like that. There wasn’t much to be expected anymore and she had made her peace with it. Having lost the will to try years ago.

 Somehow she had decided however, to enjoy the few moments she would still have with this man. A man she barely knew, but yet, felt so interest in. A man that either lived his best boomer life or just simply lived in a cave without Wi-Fi, giving his lack of knowledge by simple words like iconic and viral.

 Maybe it was his lack of interest in her Rockstar persona, that intrigued her. She had heard him and Philip outside of her room. Spencer had not given a single fuck, that her voice could´ve been ruined by having her stomach pumped, as long as she didn’t die. That was nice. Being more than an expensive voice. Being counted as a human.

 She wanted to know more about him, had given him her silver bullet, as a sign of trust. Now she wanted his or however much he was willing to give. Being high would ruin it, being high would maybe have her forget something. [y/n] knew she would still need to take the bare minimum of her drugs, so the withdrawal wouldn’t kill her, but for now she would like to be semi-clean. The headache and the freezing being acceptable.

 She had put on her fresh clothes, liking that they didn’t smell like cigarettes, wondering why she even smoked, when everything just started to reek and ruin the nice smell of her lavender perfume. Was it still out of spite, because her father didn’t like it?

Maybe she would quit…on the other hand…maybe just reduce them a little. For now, she didn’t have any, anyways. She would probably need some chewing gum.

 When she walked out of the bathroom Spencer smiled at her, stepping closer and his hands cupping her face.

 “Hey. You okay? You´re a little pale.”, she quickly nodded, her heart beating as fast as it always did shortly before a concert.

“Yeah, just not wearing any makeup, so…”, he shook his head, thumb stroking her cheek.

“Uh-uh. You weren’t pale like that before. You feeling sick?”, actually yes, she did.

“A little.”

“We´re gonna get you something to eat later and then you should take a nap. Philip is going to drive in his car and we´ll meet him at your house. Emily already left.”, [y/n] nodded, quickly stepping away from Spencer. She hadn’t even noticed Philip still being there, while he smiled at them.

“I´m gonna leave now and you guys just go to the garage and wait a few minutes. When something happens you call me, okay [y/n]?”, she nodded, Spencer taking her duffle bag as Philip hugged her and then left.

 She and Spencer went to the car park, her having the hood from her sweater pulled into her face, hoping nobody would recognize her. The last thing she wanted was a media scandal, so shortly after the her teen-pregnancy was brought to light. People talking about the ‘out of control’-Rockstar almost dying due to an overdose. Not that they were completely wrong, but still. She hated when strangers acted like they knew her, only because they read one of those crappy articles.

 When they got into the car Spencer turned on the seat heating, without saying a word, only smiling at her. Why was he so nice? Was it his savior complex or did he just have a great personality?

 Driving to her mansion in silence, they were met with an array of paparazzies in front of it. Spencer parked across the street. [y/n] quickly fixed her hair, should they notice her and start making photos.

 “Tinted windows, they don’t see you.”, he told her, making her relax.

 For a second she thought about how much she hated this. The flashes of the cameras pointed into her face, only inches away from it. Asking her inappropriate question, because fame cancelled out the right of privacy. They were always waiting for her to do something, to be put on a blast for.

 Maybe she could just, a little longer, be a no one. Like she seemed to be, alone with Spencer.

With Philip, she never had even five minutes to herself. Yes he was nice, but he was so in-your-face sometimes. Smothering her with care.

 “Spencer?” “Hm?”, he turned to her. “Would it be okay, to just go undercover?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows. “Undercover?”, her cheeks flushed a little.

“Yeah…get a hotel room and some junk food maybe…” “What about Philip?”

“I´ll text him…I- I´d just like to be alone.”, he nodded at her words, already starting the car again. “Oh, sure. I get that.” “Alone with you.”, was that sentence too bold? “I know. Already thought so.”, he put a hand on her thigh, gently squeezing it. She smiled at this gentle gesture. “Any hotel okay?”, he asked her, as she laid her hands on his, wanting to make sure it stayed there. “Sure. But you´ll need to get the room. I tend to attract attention.” “Really?”, he asked in a playful voice, as he pulled into the main street. “Yeah, apparently I look like this one singer from a rock band.”, she answered, giggling, even though it killed her head. “Huh, weird. Wouldn’t have noticed.”, he almost whispered, seeming to have noticed it.

“Maybe we should get me some nicotine patches too.”, she smiled, making him look at her surprised.

“Stopped smoking?” “Yeah, thought I´d try it. Maybe you can smell my perfume better like that. Lavender.”, Spencer chuckled. “Sexy. Kissing a smoker only seems good in the movies.” “You know movies?”, she said, playfully mocking him. “Russian and black-and-white ones.”

“You´re a little nerd, huh?

“Hope that’s not a deal breaker?”, she looked at his little worried, almost insecure look.

 Yes, the junkie who just ruined his night, by having a mental breakdown, would think a nice, smart guy that liked watching ‘Dr. Who’ was a dealbreaker.

“It´s actually kinda cute.”, he let out an adorable giggle and for a second she could feel her heart skip a beat.

 *****

 Spencer had gotten them a hotel room in a small hotel with individual, private entrances. Definitely not as classy as [y/n] was used to, but private enough, not to be seen. Before, he had bought her nicotine patches and gum and they had gotten some pizzas.

 Now her arm was plasters with some of the patches and they sat on the bed, eating pizza and watching ‘10 things I hate about you’, making him see just how quirky [y/n] could be. Singing along to every song, telling him how much she loved watching it, secretly at a friend’s home, as a teen; giggling like crazy when something funny happened and gushing over things she thought to be romantic. Spencer had given her her medication and the withdrawal, at least in the moment, seemed to be manageable.

 After the movie she had insisted on him picking something, making him extremely nervous. He didn’t think that any of his picks would have her enjoy the next two hours, but she didn’t let him say no. So he put in an old black and white movie called ‘La Dolce Vita’, about a week in the life of a philandering tabloid journalist living in Rome. He laid down in bed and signaled [y/n] to come closer. She had quickly cuddled up beside him, seemingly touch starved by the way she held him close. A very familiar feeling for Spencer.

 After he had begun stroking her hair, she had fallen asleep faster, then he had fallen for her.

 Seeming to like every side of her, every part, no matter how damaged or ugly. Spencer had pulled the sleeping girl a little closer, gently kissing the top of her head and smiling to himself. What he had smelled two days ago, had been lavender. He drifted of as well, only waking up half an hour later, when the credits woke him.

Turning the TV off, before laying close to [y/n] again, now spooning up behind her, face buried in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped tightly around her.

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To be continued...

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Give me your feedback [also anonymous!]

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[sor-vette]

one, strike!! (index/description)

☜ profiles II

two, down!! ☞

Naturally what was estimated into an hour quickly grew into three hours and naturally, those three hours involved a decent amount of manhandling and lots of loose fists. All in all, you limped your way into the annual celebration late and with a busted lip and a nicely settling lilac shade on the cusp of the jaw. The celebration was nearing the end. There were no speakers on the stage or even in the front row. The crowd had mingled already long before.

Jin is actually the first who you notice in the crowd. Uncharacteristically he’s sitting alone by one of the side tables of the room. In front of him, there’s a small gathering of empty champagne glasses, even as you’re looking he’s playing with the thin stem of the glass, face completely blank. You sidestep into a larger group of people to avoid any eye contact. Namjoon is of course the next.

He’s standing listening to someone unfamiliar to you speak. He nods along with the conversation but you can see his jaw clenched in a death grip. He’ll need a brace soon, you think dryly. The rhythmical bops on the sides of his cheeks were amusing, yes, but not when directed at you. At the moment where your legs hesitate by the banquet table, there rings a shutter sound of a camera. You try to peek as subtly as possible and upon seeing a mop of dark curls sticking above the lens, you dip towards Namjoon. Anything but that. Anything. Yeah, you’d rather deal with angry Namjoon than any jabs of resentment with V. Namjoon, in fact, does notice you and his veins, in fact, do actually start showing. He’s one split hair away from foaming at the mouth. And yet, and yet-

“Ah, Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetsov, I’d like to meet R.D. It’s the woman I’ve talked to you about earlier in the evening,” earlier when you were supposed to show your ass up. His voice is completely neutral as if you’d showing up late, tousled, and looking like a digested raccoon was part of the plan.

“Sorry for meeting you this late, there was a situation that needed my attention,” even if they’re not placated by the excuse, the polite hmm’s are still given.

“Mr. Kuznetsov had heard how you declined positions in all of the other departments and he was wondering why.” And you once had thought that Jin and Jimin were award-worthy actors... Namjoon doesn’t give off anything, not a single clue. He paraphrases the belated questions so casually as if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t know that the answer was him all along. Sure, there were other… reasons, other circumstances but no matter how the dice was turned, the primary descent into your suicidal career choice was pushed by Namjoon himself.

“I like the freedom of the cleaner department.”

“Freedom?” Mr. Kuznetsov echoes and you politely wait for his interpreter thinking it’d be rude to intrude on his job.

“Freedom?”

“Yes. There are certain characteristics to other departments that require um… putting on airs? Being a cleaner means I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not and I’m largely responsible for my own choices.” Namjoon snorts. It is an ugly, mocking sound.

“Furthermore,” you continue, glaring at him “our department is very friendly and honest. We say what we want and don’t rope people in situations that are only beneficial to us.” Namjoon’s jaw makes an audible tick. For a split second, it seems he has simply managed to dislocate it entirely.

“I thought they were also supposed to be punctual.” He snarks through what was supposed to look like an amicable smile. A miserable fail on his part.

“Yes, they are. It’s just not me. Not a postcard material, you see.” If Mr. Reyes and Mr. Kuznetcov pick up on the rapidly increasing animosity, they at least have the working social sense not to remark on it. Both of them thank you for your answers and then stay a little longer to talk to Namjoon again. At that point, you start to zone out of reality and have something alike Ducktales intro loudly playing in your mind.

When they bid their goodbyes almost twenty minutes later, the re-purposed great conference hall is nearly empty. Jin had disappeared without you seeing. And so has V, thank God. Briefly, you try to find someone else familiar but there is none. Finally, the pair leaves, and Namjoon is left openly fuming. He takes those purposeful, long strides and you almost double in two, growling:

“Don’t you even-!” He does not listen and catches your elbow in a death grip, dragging you to the first exit door into those gray nondescript hallways you loathe. You shove him away unceremoniously.

“Do you enjoy creating a mess? Or are you simply incapable of keeping a promise?” His voice is low, monotone, kicking your self-esteem right underneath Earth’s crust. It was hard - to argue with Namjoon. Just…not impossible. Overall it helped to think of it as the world’s snidest debate match.

“I distinctly remember not promising anything due to this very reason.”

“Your reason being?”

“My direct duties as a custodian.” Namjoon actually snarls.

“To the boy?”

“His name is Erik,” you lightly correct and for some reason, he gives a mirthless laugh. As if that’s faintly amusing.

“You’ve never treated your duties seriously.”

“Actually, I have. You just don’t like it if I do something on my own.” It’s a deja vu at this point. You’ve had this conversation, point by point, five years ago.

A beat of silence passes.

Then another one.

“You’re happy now?” Namjoon asks. You suspect largely to make you feel guilty over something not defined.

“Of course. We just had a perfectly pleasant conversation.” You say matter-of-factly. Yes, it is hard to argue with Namjoon but once you learn that his biggest weakness is someone brushing off all of his righteous fury aside and not let it underneath the skin... Well, it is a couple of hundred steps towards mastery on this very vague debate team.

“Clean yourself up.” He bites his last and stomps away. You wait until he disappears up the exit stairs and let out a long sigh, letting your spine relax.

You turn around all too ready to go home and drown inside your mattress but freeze upon seeing Jimin. He stands quite far away, by appearance having just exited the conference hall. There are faint creases in his face and mute worry reflecting in the eyes. No doubt, he heard at least half the conversation. You both stand awkwardly in the silence of the hallway, each rooted in their own spot. He gives a small smile, an attempt at comfort. So very like Jimin. You lightly shrug as if to say - “it is what it is”. To not look him into the eyes, you turn your head to the top of his head. It is pink now. Looks nice. You point to the top of your own head and give a thumbs up, hoping he’d get what you’re trying to gesture. He does. Jimin gives another smile, a touch shyer as he lowers his eyes in silent gratitude at the compliment but the worry doesn’t decrease.

The conversation if it could be called that ends there and after another heavy sigh, he walks back into the hall.

“Life is like a hurricane, here in, Duckberg,” you bop quietly walking down the empty hallway.

***

Namjoon sags into the chair of his office in total darkness as he didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The only faint illumination is provided by the neon lights of the city below. The walk of twenty-five floors has taken all the wind out of him, along with it the anger. Thirty minutes ago he was mumbling it like a mantra in his head. He’d wrangle your neck if you dared to show your face and now he finds the very idea irrational. Jin had said his temper has gotten worse over the course of six years. The unrelenting stress taking a toll, he said. Maybe, maybe it was the stress. But Namjoon begrudgingly had to admit it was you who hit the nail of the problem. He took an issue wherever you or really anyone in his care did things on their own. He was the leader, the face of everything they try to do here. To save the world, that’s what the tag line said. But years after years of trying to save the world and years after years worth of sacrifices piling up, he’d rather start not to save the world but just save someone.

And then you came here, nearly six years ago, forlorn and bent on killing yourself and he lets you into this hellhole. Let's you stay so you could find meaning in the vague promises of being an underground hero, a vigilante. And then when it becomes peaceful when life seems to be good, you take a dive. A dive that just keeps ongoing. And it’s not that Namjoon doesn’t trust you. You’ve matured in heaps and bounds and reached a notable level of professionalism within the cleaner department. But the world is another thing. A shelter sometimes can be confining but it is ultimately safe. Isn’t safety better than running around jumping from one risky decision to another for the sake of “living adventurous life”?

Namjoon lets his head drop into the palms of his hands. Lately, this is all he’s been doing. Getting angry and then feeling like a complete villain. A pulse begins to form behind his eyes. The telltale sign of an incoming migraine.

God, he just wants to sleep.

***

“Get out,” you murmur half-heartedly, closing the doors to your small apartment. Pop music blasts inside the apartment with Erik lazily enjoying cherry candy sticks on the top of your bed.

“Oh, you’re home.”

“And you’re here. See how upset that makes me?” Erik stared at your stilled expression.

“Devastating,” he murmurs, “did your get your ass kicked? For being late?”

“Well, as long as never show my face there ever again and die on this very spot, no, I’ve handled it quite well.” He points at you with the red object, voice insinuating a captivating intrigue -

“I’m sorry for tonight but I promise tomorrow you’ll have reparations.”

- when it was just plain annoying.

“Instead of thousand sorry’s, I’d like to hear at least once you ask for my permission.”

“You’d say no.”

“I like saying no. It lowers your enthusiasm.”

Erik grumbles something indecipherable. A person busts in through the doors along with the hearty clanging of two bottles smacking against each other.

“What is he doing here?” Irina throws a disapproving look towards the bed.

“No idea.”

“Get out.”

“No, but -”

“Get lost,” you echo Irina.

“Okey-dokey.” And with obnoxious curtsy accompanied with “ladies!” Erik is gone without another whine. You sigh heavily, absent-mindedly poking at the small tower of empty coffee mugs sitting in the sink. There has been no time during the week. You’ve been far too busy spending your free time in alteration between watching old cartoons and staring at a wall.

Irina places her coat and shoes next to her, frowning at the door.

“Why do you even like this kid?” You give a simple shrug. Maybe deep down you know the answer, maybe you don’t but largely you don’t think it matters. Erik was your trainee and that was the end of that. Well, that was how much you were willing to share with the outer world.

“He thinks differently.”

“Isn’t it just the fact that he wears red eyeshadow?” You still for a moment, looking at the paper bags Irina places on your kitchen table.

“Omelas?”

“Yeah.” She puts down the two faded tourist mugs from inside the small kitchen cupboard. I love Vienna and Someone in Paris misses you respectively. You look at the mugs almost apprehensively as if their appearance was somehow offensive but say nothing. They were just mugs after all. Nothing more.

Irina pours the champagne and pops open the white takeout boxes, pushing one in your direction.

“Snagged this from the anniversary party.” She proudly proclaimed, “they had really big banquet tables.”

“Yeah, I saw.” You take a sip of the champagne wincing at the taste. The label of 2004 Philipponnat Clos des Goisses Brut promised its tasters lively energy and tastes of lemon peel, pear, hazelnuts, and mint. What was on your tongue tasted like pure acid. No better than the cheapest energy drink found in the shadiest small stores peppered across the town.

“What are you thinking?”

“The name is obnoxiously long.” Irina huffs while dutifully stuffing her mouth full of chicken.

“No, I meant -” she takes a breath, gulping down on the champagne. For a second you almost worry she’ll end up hacking herself to death at this rate of consumption.

“Did our CEO invite you?”

“Yes.”

“And something happened?”

“Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” She falls silent. After a moment, she unexpectedly reaches across the table and pushes a bite of her rice into your mouth.

“Let’s never be sad over anyone, okay.” You push the rice on the one side of your cheek to push through a flirtatious -

“Only over you.”

Irina gives a wry smile.

[sideblogformindtrash]

CW: mild NSFW(kissing, implied), implied nocon, Lots of swearing, stupid insults, prostitution(?), slave/pet whumpee, creepy/intimate whumper, panic attacks, insinuation of physical abuse, hair pulling, deshumanization;

Sorry if this one is too convoluted, I runned out of meds and the abstinence of them is weird, I just feel my head like it’s full of cotton today. Also, this perspective is trick to write a bit, his world is a little different. Thanks to everyone who is reading these, by the way (◕ܫ◕✿)

Part of:  Same as: one, two, three four and five 

there is this one here as well I just forgot to link 

order is wathever, although maybe reading five before this one would help.

That man touched his scars, running his fingers all over his back, pressing on the texture of the old whip marks. It took all he had not to turn around and kick his face. Instead, he turned and pulled the man into a kiss, forcing him to at least put his hands somewhere else.

Sometimes, he wished saliva could be venomous. That would be fun.

Snake. Pestilence. Venom, poison! the darkness cries. Well, he has a serpent-soul. It’s tiny, but furious, and hoards gold with the same intent as a dragon would. It’s hiding now. It doesn’t want to be touched especially not by the soul of that old fucker.

The old fucker was followed by a tower-like creature, always too big for the room he was in. It had tentacles that spread just around everything, in search for absolute order and control. On the tower top, it had a glowing, all seeing-eye. Funny how despite appearances, that eye was almost blind, and could not find the serpent.

“Sweetheart, you were wonderful today”

The man smiled, tiny white teeth, some bathed on gold, as he leans in and caresses his cheeks, pulling the dark strains of hair out of his sweaty face.

Impure. Impure. Mess. Sinner.

“I’m glad I made a good impression.” He chuckles “But you… You are wonderful, every single time, darling”.

Wonderful… Yeah. That man is about as interesting as a bottle of hot dog water… But judging by the creature that follows him, at least he is pleased for today. The man kissed his forehead and gets up on his feet, searching for his robes.

Why is it always these type of people? No one else seems to like him. Not even tolerate him. But people like the old fucker like to keep him around, like their own personal freak. He can interact with them just fine, he can manipulate them… But he can barely talk to normal people.

They are bad too. Just like you.

Just like you.

Darkness screams… No. Shut up. I’m not this. I refuse to be like him.

“So, do you remember I said I had a gift for you?”

His snake gingerly puts its head out from the hiding spot, sliding up his body and rolling around his arms.

“How could I forget? You are always so good to me” Pay my bills old fucker. “And your gifts are the best”.

“I hope you like this one. It’s a bit different than the gifts I usually give you. A bit ragged as well… But still a very nice item” He moves out the door. Orfeu assumes it’s on the small office he has connected to the bedroom, but no, he leaves the chambers, closing the door, tower-like monster following. The room looks much more empty without that thing roaming around.

He gets into the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. So many mirror, so many expensive stuff, he thinks to himself, stealing a bit of cologne.

Monter.

Demon.

Impure.

Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up- He looks angrily at his own back. He can still feel fingers there, tracing those fucking scars. He wanted to cover them up with tattoos, like he did with some of the others, but a full back tattoo would be. Too. Expensive. He needs to eat. Food money.

He could try and seduce one of the old fucker… But he doubted he could. He and his little friends enjoyed seeing scars on his back…. A reminder that he was inferior maybe.

Inferior.

Show them. Beat them into the ground. Let the darkness come.

“Shut up” he whispers to the mirror. Okay, apply some makeup again, fix the hair… And good to go again. Reptilian eyes stare at him through the mirror, his shadow-like soul sliding in and out of existence.

He goes back to sit on the bed, a bit bored. Why is it taking so long? He just wants to get whatever it is and go back home. This place is disgusting.

Loud noises downstairs, shouting, stuff falling. Oh. The old fucker is fighting with his son, who is the human embodiment of stubbing your toes on a table, with the additional of having the haircut of an Alpaca. 

Something heavy falling down, a muffled scream, steps on the stairway. Office door opens… Something hits the floor. Old fucker is back, with a nasty smile. His soul is disturbed and it doesn’t try to enter de bedroom this time. It stays back on the office.

“Hello again” he smiles, teeth just a bit too sharp.

“…Hm, sweet, tell me you have come to my parties before, haven’t you?”

Yeah of course. And stood by the corners while most of his guests stared at him like he was monster or a piece of meat, at least until the old fucker called him so he could show off his personal little freak.

Freak, freak, those people thought. Uncanny, go away.

Or alternatively, that they needed to have him, to control him, to show who really is the monster.

Joke was on them, because it was a great occasion to pickpocket, these parties.

“Of course I have darling. It’s such an honor to be there!”

The old fucker’s smile is unusual, something like someone making a commercial of toothpaste on gun-point.

Controlling, all-consuming, Danger danger.

“Well, you remember my little songbird?”

…Something the old fucker liked to display even more. The young man was put on a sort of pedestal on the beginning of those parties, and would sing and perform gracefully to the guests, before coming to sit and serve his master. By later hours he was tossed around all the guests, and when the party was over, there wasn’t much left of him anymore.

“Sure. The one with the long white hair” He saw him sometimes, walking around the house, always following the dumb ass son of the old fucker. They never really interacted. “Your son’s pet. What about him?”

“Oh no. It’s not my son’s anymore.”

He frowns, and the old fucker’s grim widens. He gesticulate for Orfeu to follow him into the office, where… The boy is there, shivering, covered in bruises and cuts. Ragged.

Fragile. Ice. Thin, thin ice.

…On no. Hell no. Please please no.

“-You…?”

Master grabs the boy’s hair and pulls him up, as he lets out a faint whimper. The boy’s soul… It’s keeling on the ground, but its arms, painfully long, too broken and mangled… They are strangling the boy right now. He can’t breathe right.

No.

Nononononononononononono.

“He is yours now, darling!”

Fear. Anxiety… Anger?

“Are you… giving me a person?”

Nope nope nope nope nope. Can’t interact. People don’t like me. He’ll be scared. He’ll be terrified. He will see me as monster. Won’t be able to help. No nononon.

…He bites his own cheek so much it draws blood. Calm the fuck down. Keep the façade.

“Oh, no darling” the man chuckles “It’s not a person, it’s a pet. Remember how you told me you wanted some company, but you can’t have animals at home? They are scared of you or something, you said. Well, this one is perfect, I’m sure. He won’t dare run away.”

The man comes closer, dragging the poor boy to his feet, with that nasty, nasty smile. That’s why his controlling tower-soul stood back, keeping those arms and tentacles wrapped around the boy’s soul.

“Little songbird here needs a home. He doesn’t sing anymore… So I don’t really have a use for it. He would be very happy to go with you, wouldn’t you?”

He pulls his hair again, so hard he lets out a whimper. The crooked soul mimics its owner to perfection, the tentacles of the old bastard all over it.

“-Y..Ah-“ he shrieks, shivers, raises his head so the tears don’t roll down.

“…He doesn’t talk much anymore. But then again, dogs don’t either” He sighs “I wanted him to be clean of fresh wounds when you took him, but my son got his hands on him somehow.”

Somehow. The soul shivers. The boy cries.

“Well… I know it’s a bit sudden, but it’s your choice after all. You want him? He can clean, cook, do some stuff for you.”

Say no say no say no say so you can’t do this wtf this is wrong and bad and you can’t take of him you can’t barely take care of yourself it will be worse if you don’t he will be killed or tortured that’s not fair it’s not his fault it wasn’t your fault he deserves better than you he won’t get any chance-

“Of course I want him.”

Panic panic – don’t. Don’t panic. Fuck this.

You wanted someone in the darkness for you, and no one ever came… So be the person. Be there.

“Good!” Old fucker says, too loud “Aren’t you happy, songbird? I won’t have to dispose of you after all”

The poor thing tries to answer but can’t. And he noticed how old fucker moves, about to smack the boy, so, on a swift movement, Orfeu  falls to his knees and cups his hands around the boy’s face. Old fucker crosses his arm instead.

“It’s okay if he can’t answer. I’m a quiet guy, believe it or not!” he chuckles “Is just you… that makes me want to talk so much, dear! I’m only chatty around you, cause you have so many nice things to say…”

…Like bragging about his stocks and finances and complaining about being a failure of a father who raised a monster. The usual.

“Well… That’s good to know, I’m special to you!” old fucker smiles victoriously “If it does happen that the pet sings again, make sure to tell me, I’d like to hear”.

Yeah, sure. Like hell he would.

[tardytothepardy]

Fruits Basket - Vol 22

The snowball that has been tumbling down a hill for these last several books is finally rolling to a halt. I wonder how Akito feels about it. Surely she's not gonna become upset.

Today we arrive with Kyo to Kyo's house, after being told by Hanajima that there's something he needs to do before he can see Tohru. He needs to talk to his dad, and it's gonna be the first time in a long time that he's done it. He's nervous as all hell, he feels nauseous just standing at the front door, but he still follows through. The second his father sees him, he's already in a rage. He yells at the servant(?) who let Kyo in, then zeroes straight on Kyo after Kyo asks why he's home in the first place, it's the middle of the workday, isn't it?

Kyo's father (he never gets a name, as far as I can tell) says that he wasn't feeling well, and it's Kyo's fault because,,, his mom died. Yup, makes sense. After all this time, Kyo's father still rants and raves and insists that it was Kyo's fault that his mother died, and Kyo says, "Yeah, I know it is." Kyo's father starts cackling, asking the servant if she also heard Kyo saying that, then asking for someone to call up the main Sohma house, to get Kyo and throw him in the dungeon (it's not actually a dungeon but I'll always think of it like that), but Kyo says he won't go there. He won't even step foot in that room, because he's going to live outside, because he met someone and he really cares about her, and he wants to be around her for the rest of his life. Naturally, Kyo's father rejects that, saying that there's no way the family would allow that, there's no way that Kyo can go off and try to have a normal life after "what he did", throwing his family into shame by being born (because he totally chose to be the cat, this is common knowledge), and he asks why Kyo's mother had to give birth to Kyo in the first place, which makes Kyo freeze up. He's heard that phrase before, when he was a kid. He hadn't realized it before, but after hearing his father say it, he realizes that it was his father that said it to his mother, "Why did you have to give birth to such a child?". Right in front of said child, by the way. Clearly the man did not and does not care. Kyo asks his father if he was the one who said it, which makes Kyo's father lash out again, how dare Kyo insinuate that he (Kyo's father) is the reason that Kyo's mother (why did neither of these people get a name ;-;) committed suicide, there's no way it's his fault, there was never anything he said or did that would make her do that, obviously, how could Kyo even vaguely say something that could be construed as such, and clearly it is not his fault but Kyo's! It has to be Kyo's fault, it simply has to!

Probably during all that screaming, Kyo thinks about how much he wishes his mom was happy, that she had never felt the way she did that led to her suicide. As a kid, it was difficult for him to understand, but now he does, not that it makes much of a difference. Whether he understood or not, she's still gone.

Finally, Kyo pushes his father away, saying that he won't give up on himself, and that he wants to make the most of his life while he still has it. His father again objects, and tries to grab Kyo, who deflects pretty easily (whoa it's almost like he's been trained for most of his life for scenarios vaguely similar to this) and his father just starts screaming that Kyo is going to kill him. You know what Kyo is doing? He's just pushing away his father's hand. That's it. His father is still screaming bloody murder (which is what he seems to think is gonna happen to him) when the scene jumps to Akito talking to one of the head maids, talking about Kyo, about if they should get someone to take him away, but Akito says that she wants that place destroyed. The maid asks if she thinks Kyo's father will approve, but Akito basically says, "It doesn't matter what he approves, I've decided it will be destroyed." After that, the maid notes that Akito has changed, and that she liked Akito before, but Akito doesn't care. Change, don't change, she'll be trying to progress and move on, even if some people around her object to it. Generally, there seems to be a lot of introspective going on for both of them.

Then we change to see Hiro and Kisa, who is reassuring Hiro that it's not a bad thing that his curse broke, and that no one is going to hate him because of it. If anything, she's happy for him, and is glad that he told her first, out of anyone else. Hiro asks if Kisa hates him now that he isn't part of the Juunishi anymore, and she asks him if he thinks of her any different because she still is. Midway through reassuring Kisa that that wasn't the case, Kyo announces his presence by vomiting behind some bushes. Hiro exclaims how gross that was (I'm not putting that against him, he has no way of really knowing (or understanding) why Kyo did that), and Kisa offers Kyo a tissue, and Kyo straight up basically hallucinates seeing Tohru. (Dang,, he's really affected by all this. He's, if you don't mind me saying this, down bad. Really bad.)

Kyo tries to visit Tohru again, but Hanajima and Uotani block his way completely. I would go into why but I've already said it, but one thing that does happen is that Hanajima and Uotani run into or meet (or something) Akito, who tells them that she's the reason that Tohru had those cuts, and kinda why she got hurt in the first place. She's also the reason why Kureno is in the hospital. Naturally, Akito is very ashamed of this, but surprisingly, Uotani and Hanajima are pretty cool about it. Hanajima tells Akito that Tohru isn't blaming anyone for the incident, so it's better if Akito not beat herself up so much over it, because it definitely won't make Tohru feel any better. As Akito was admitting what she'd done to Kureno, Hanajima straight up asked her if she was a girl, and when Akito didn't say no, suddenly things clicked into place: when Kureno was talking about having to stay by the side of a girl, Akito was that girl. This realization seems to mostly be on Uotani's side, who is also thinking about how much Kureno really means to her. I mean, she interacted with him a handful of times, and that was a while ago. She doesn't really know much about him, only that he seems to have a similar demeanor to Tohru, that sort of blind kindness kinda thing.

Uotani later goes to talk to Kureno, and he says that, to help Akito move on, he needs to leave, go far away. Uotani offers to go with him (after graduation and stuff), because she luh-luh-likes him (she refuses to say it), so that's nice.

Meanwhile, (more like after? Idk, timey wimey stuff) Kyo is heading to Kazuma's house, and he sees Akito walking out the front gate. Huh? What the fuck is Akito doing there? Kyo goes to confront Akito, but all she says is that he can live whatever life he wants to, and she refuses to clarify. Right before the bickering can start, who but Hanajima opens the front gate, asking if Akito is really leaving so soon? (She even uses a nickname, which Akito isn't the biggest fan of) Naturally, that freaks out Kyo. What is that girl doing here? Is she friends with Akito? How did that happen? When did that happen? Then Kazuma pops up, and Hanajima again acts familiar and friendly with him?! How does she do that that's so fucking weird!

Kazuma tells Kyo that he knows that Kyo went to talk to his dad, and that Akito knows as well. He also says that Akito plans for that dungeon room to be destroyed which is nice. Kazuma says that fixing relations between the main house or his personal family won't be so easy, but it was a nice start.

Jumping ahead a little, it seems that Akito has called all of the Juunishi (even Kyo, and we all know how rare that is) to the main Sohma house. She has something that she needs to tell them, and they have no guesses. Haru says that Akito seems to have changed since the whole incident with Tohru and stuff, which is a welcome change, even if it's still strange and confusing. (Personally, in that situation I would definitely have bated breath, because when there's a person that usually is disagreeable at best suddenly changes to being nice, all I can ever do is just wait for them to go back to being nasty. I just can't trust it when people switch like that, it's eerie)

Yuki then tells Kyo that Tohru's getting out of the hospital soon, which causes Kyo to speed off to Hanajima and Uotani, asking if now he can finally see Tohru. They say, "yeah, yeah," then ask him what outfits (because they're paging through a magazine) would look best on Tohru. Kyo has no fucking idea, Tohru could probably wear anything and he'd be fine with it.

Meanwhile, it seems that Yuki has some jealousy(?) concerning Tohru and Kyo. It's mostly because both parties know about the whole zodiac thing, but between him and Machi, that's not the case. There's a considerable risk that the secret came out, or that he tells Machi, and she finds it too weird and she breaks off any little relationship that is starting to grow between them. It'd probably just drop back to acquaintances, or worse: awkward acquaintances, where everyone asks what happened, weren't you guys close? Ugh. That sounds terrible.

So anyway, Yuki's busy worrying about that, it's a whole thing. I think he kinda tries to tell Machi at some point, but Kimi busts in asking about her hairbrush. And though he doesn't succeed in telling Machi, he knows that he has to, because this is a pretty big thing to hide from someone. It's probably difficult and straining to be a couple and you refuse to let your partner be physically close to you without ever telling them why. (Just panic and say that you have an allergy to human skin and admit that you're in complete misery because of it, it's fine, nbd)

The scene switches to Akito talking to Shigure, telling him that she's going to end the whole Juunishi thing. She's tired of all of it at this point, of people treating her the way they do because she's "God". She says that everyone (though I suppose in this scene she's saying this to Shigure specifically) will be released from her, that everyone can go and do whatever they want to do. Shigure says that if that's the case, then he'll be relieved. (I know he's teasing and all, but like, dude, can you maybe not right now?) He gives her a "farewell gift", which she looks fairly distraught about, but we won't see what it is yet, because now I have to describe Kyo's general panick over seeing Tohru again.

So yeah, the day that Tohru is released from the hospital, somehow Kyo almost seemed to forget about it until Yuki brought it up. Yuki wouldn't be going along though, because he has something else to do.

On the way to the hospital, Kyo's just rethinking all the stuff that he's said and that has been said to him throughout this whole thing. Yuki told him to just act normal, the fuck even is normal now? How does he do that? Will Tohru forgive him? What even does he like about Tohru? Does he still like her? What does he like about her? How much about that thing does he like? He has no fucking idea, how does he even talk to her? Then he sees her, none of that shit matters. The only thing that does matter is that he loves her goddammit.

Unfortunately for that romantic moment, the second Tohru sees Kyo, she dashes off. He gives chase after a moment of "oh jeez ;-;".

The perspective shifts to Tohru. She apparently didn't mean to run, her feet just went on their own. It isn't what she meant to do, she did want to see Kyo again, but who has control over their bodies in highly emotional moments anyway? She told herself that when she next saw him, she was going to smile. She practiced doing so, or that what she thought anyway. There's a moment where we see Yuki talking to Tohru while she's still bedridden, and when he tries (very hesitantly) to bring up Kyo, she changes the topic pretty quickly, along with crying literally at his name. It hurts her so much to hear it. She thinks that she's a burden by being unable to let go of everyone. She thinks she needs to move from Kyo after what he said, but she just can't. She meant what she said that she would stay by Kyo's side, even if it turns out he doesn't like her. She tried to not let it bother her, but clearly that didn't happen.

Finally, Kyo catches up to her (a second time, she pushed him away twice in that fantastic emotional upheaval), and she's crying. She's desperately trying to stop, she doesn't want to be a burden, she doesn't want him to hate her, stop crying! He takes her hand, and apologizes for all his bs. He says that he was only thinking about himself, about his own regrets. He ignored her feelings, and he says that he should've known better: the world doesn't give second chances, but he's taking this chance to try to apologize. He then says those magic words that Tohru did not think he'd say at all: he wants to be with her, he doesn't want anyone else, because he loves her. (Holy shit, they both love each other? Now this is a game changer, for sure)

Tohru's completely shocked, and can only muster tiny soft questions like "does that mean i can stay with you?" and "can i hold your hand?" with lots of ellipses, because shock. Kyo points out that she's already holding his hand, and then he kisses her (She does know that that's their second kiss, right? No? Hm, Kyo feels awkward about that). Kyo then pulls her to her feet (she was sitting on a garden wall thingie), and asks if they can hug, despite the whole cat thing. He says he thinks that the curse will probably become an inconvenience to her, but Tohru says that she loves him, and that it doesn't matter, everything will work out. And so they hug and,,,,

nothing happens.

The fuck?!

Before we get to the hug, we get a quick flashback to when Akito visited Tohru in the hospital. Akito admits that she was jealous of Tohru, and that she thinks that Tohru is prettier than herself. Tohru denies that, and asks that Akito not categorize things like that, because when you think like that, you just "use them to seperate yourself out", in her words. She says that she is not without blame, that Akito was just living her life as best she could, despite all the bad stuff that was happening to her. She destroyed Akito's world, essentially, and whether or not it was for better or worse, she still acknowledges that she ended up hurting Akito, a lot.

It goes back to the present, still with Akito, as the curse is breaking for so many of the Juunishi, Kyo, Ayame, Ritsu, Kisa, Kagura, Izusu, Haru, Hatori, and lastly Shigure (no i'm not forgetting anyone, the story isn't finished), and she's telling her father (who is, if you have forgotten, quite dead) that she doesn't have to be "god" anymore, that she can just be herself. She's still scared by that idea, because she is aware of how many people she's hurt, and she doesn't think she has any redeeming qualities, she's just alone, scared, and hurt. After showing all of these people's curse breaking, it circles back to the hospital, where Tohru is again offering her friendship to Akito, so that, if Akito truly feels she has nothing else, then at least she can have that.

Back to Tohru and Kyo, after they hug and he doesn't turn into a cat, it's a feeling of shock, but then Kyo tears off his bracelet, and it breaks, the beads going everywhere, and he doesn't turn into anything. I personally have a very small idea of how fucking elated he must have been about that. This lifelong burden, somehow worse than what the other Juunishi had to deal with, something that he's been shunned for (as if he had any choice in the matter), and now it's gone. It's all done, he doesn't have to worry about that anymore.

Now, before Kyo went off to see Tohru, Yuki mentioned that he had something to do. That Something(tm) was calling Machi, and meeting up. He's planning on telling her about the whole Juunishi thing, just get it out in the air. He feels kinda weird, indescribably, but he figures he's just nervous. Before he can think about it, Machi shows up. This is it: this is when he tells her-- whoa what? There's a little rat (probably a voice in his head, the rat spirit, something like that), and it tells him that he's the last. It thanks him for keeping the promise, and bids him goodbye, walking to the other spirits. Whoa. That's intense. How do you even begin to explain that?

Then, we see the story of the Juunishi, how it started in the first place: There was once this dude who lived all alone, at the top of a mountain. Even after going down the mountain, and seeing other people, he was still alone. Despite having a lot of power and experience and memories, he knew that he was unlike other people, and developed a fear of other people, of getting hurt, and of being different than others. One day, a cat showed up, and said that it had been watching the dude for a while, and it wanted to be by his side, and so it did. This made the dude (he's God, should I just refer to him as "God" rather than "the dude"? Probably) very happy, and he thought that if he can get along fine with one, why not more? Who wouldn't want more happiness? So he made and sent out a bunch of invitations for a nice banquet, and some animals came to it: a dog, a ram, a dragon, a monkey, a rat, a snake, an ox, a horse, a bird, a rabbit, a boar, and a tiger. They all collected and all had a fun banquet for many nights.

Suddenly though, the cat fell over, and everyone was distraught. There's was nothing to be done, his life had run out. This was a reminder that death is inevitable, and can happen before you're ready. This upset all of them, and so God prepared a drink and had the cat drink it. It was the thing that created the bond, and he said that however times that everyone there is born, or dies, they will all be together, and they will always be friends, until the end of time. Everyone agreed to it, and the rat was the first to drink, and the rest followed in their sequential order. After the last had drank, the cat started to cry, and asked why God had forced him to drink, saying that he didn't want eternity. No one had expected this response, and they scolded the cat for it. He continued, saying that he knows that death is scary, but it is important to accept that things come to an end, and that he was happy that he met God. If there was a time when they met again in another life, he wanted it to be a natural thing, and to be surrounded with more than those who were sort of forced to be there.

No one wanted to hear those words, however, and the cat died alone. Eventually, one by one, they started to die, leaving God alone once again. But once his time came, he wasn't afraid, because it meant that he could once again see his friends.

Seeing how that story of friendship had over time been twisted into a curse, a burden, kinda sucks, to be honest. The best of intentions don't always work out though.

Now we're pulled back to Yuki and Machi, who is pretty confused. Yuki tries to explain, that he just said goodbye to someone who has been with him his whole life, and despite it being unpleasant to deal with, he's still emotional about them leaving. He is glad that they have left, because he now has freedom. Freedom to do what, you may ask? To hug Machi, which is exactly what he does. I suppose this is some kinda scandalous pda or something because it shows people walking by blushing or whatever. Maybe it's just the American culture in me, but I wouldn't look twice if I saw something like that. (Whoa, it's almost as if different places have different standards and views and cultures, holy shit) After that, Machi asks if she can use his name (because she's always called him "President" up until now), he says she can, they kiss, it's a whole thing. Very cute stuff. (sorry i summarized that so quickly, idk how to talk about that stuff lmao 😳😬)

I'll just leave it there for now, move onto the next, and last, book.

[breakfast-cereal]

Stupid For You (2) -Johnlock

← ← MAIN MASTERLIST

← PART ONE

PART THREE

!¡Trigger Warning¡! DO NOT IGNORE!: mentions to drugs and addiction, alcohol use, vomiting, hints to declining/poor mental health.

Rosie's hair was in a slightly dishevelled braid that reached just above her shoulder blades

"Youtube seems to be helpful for tutorials. Slightly inaccurate, though." Sherlock looked as if he was about to write down notes.

"It's YouTube, Sherlock." John looked at Rosie who had a massive grin on her face

Rosie rushed to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, daddy!"

Sherlock didn't seem to protest and accepted the role of a father figure to Rosie. John was confused by this. If Sherlock was a father figure to Rosie wouldn't that insinuate that he and John were together? Does that not bother Sherlock?

"No problem." Sherlock ushered Rosie back to her room and then sat back down to work on the case.

John sat on the couch, sneaking glances at Sherlock while watching some sports game on the telly. He reached for his phone on the table and scrolled through it while watching the telly and concentrating on Sherlock. John was hoping this would have some distraction from his headache. The light from his phone just seemed to make the headache worse. John had opened google and was staring down at it. His headache was horrible and those confusing feelings had returned to plague his thoughts. Without thinking, John entered "John Watson and Sherlock Holmes" into the search bar and entered it. He looked around anxiously as if someone was going to pop out of any corner and catch him looking at this. The worst would be Sherlock. Results popped up raging from "Johnlock" blogs to articles describing their relationship. John clicked on the first article and skimmed it until reaching a part that specifically piqued his interest.

Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson's relationship is obviously less than platonic. Relationship expert, Tiffany Laines has confirmed multiple theories with her video "Debunking 'Johnlock'." Laines stated in her video that "Holmes and Watson are very close for just roommates. It seems it's Holmes&Watson rather than just Holmes and Watson. Based on body language queues, like the leaning in from Watson, and the way Holmes' colleagues described him as brash whereas it seems John does not find him that way. Can this mean Holmes treats Watson differently? Of course, we can never be sure with their limited interaction, but my speculation is something is going on."

John read over that paragraph multiple times. He read it for what felt like hours. He stared and analyzed it wanting to know what they meant. What the secret meaning could be even though the truth stared back at him. He wanted to throw his phone. Launch it across the room. Find whoever wrote that article and beat them. Instead, John put his phone down and made his way up to make some tea.

"Tea?" He asked into the air, hoping Sherlock would maybe answer.

"Yes, that'd be nice."

John prepared two cups and watched while the water boiled in the kettle. He listened to it fizz and at some moments John wondered if it would boil over. John could be compared to a kettle. He would fizz and bubble until he reached a point where he would just stop or boil over completely. John believed he was a calm individual, though he wasn't. It's hard being calm when you're rather vigilant all the time.

"I've got it!" John spun to see Sherlock pacing around the house frantically. "It was so obvious how could I have not gotten it!",

"What?",

"It's objects! The numbers were words and the words were objects. I've got a lead, John.",

"How did you manage to get that out of a sheet of numbers?" John was impressed. Well, not impressed, because Sherlock could solve a murder with his eyes closed and hands tied, but his skills were always impressive.

"It became quite obvious with hints. The necklace the woman had is a precious object so at first, I thought it could be something expensive, but there's nothing expensive in our flat. Yes, I'm assuming it is in our flat, as the woman left these papers in our flat rather than taking them to Mrs. Hudson, or some other person. Of course, maybe it's just because she was one to visit us, but with the pieces of paper originally the coordinates seemed to also have directions that were rather similar to the way to get into our flat. To sum it down simply, there's clues in certain objects in our flat." Sherlock seemed so animated when he talked about these things. He always strived for perfection and clarity on his cases and when he got it, it's like it sent him into a high. "Don't drink the tea, by the way.",

"What's wrong with the tea?" John felt overwhelmed with this information. There were hidden messages all over the flat. What if he stepped on one? Or got it wet?

"You added milk to yours. It's expired. Strange you pour the milk before the water." John looked at the milk in his cup that had small chunks in it and dumped it down the sink, sugar swirling down with it.

The kettle finished as John was there and he poured it into Sherlock's cup. He waddled over to Sherlock's desk and placed the tea, noticing the messy state of affairs. Sherlock's desk had papers all over it. The papers in the centre focus were the ones from the most recent case. One paper had computer, Jane Eyre, heart, written on it, while all the others remained blank.

"Heart?" John felt a strange feeling when Sherlock looked panicked. Sherlock looked like that word wasn't supposed to be written.

"Likely mistake. I don't know why that word is there. Stupid mistake." Sherlock quickly flipped over the paper and overemphasized the grab of the cup. "Go watch telly or something. I'm busy." John hated the way Sherlock would brush him off so easily. Even with living with him all these years he still couldn't brush off the hurt it caused. He wanted to get his mind off this, but his mind immediately went to drinks. With what John remembered happened last night, drinking was the last thing he wanted to do. So instead, John left the flat.

He walked the opposite way from the pub. His mind thought of one thing and one thing only; Sherlock. He felt like one of those articles as he speculated what heart could be. Does Sherlock have a secret photo album of Irene Adler? John was sure that Sherlock didn't have any human organs (they had cleaned all those out after John screamed at Sherlock over the fact that if Rosie ever found them she'd be terrified.) Was heart meaning that Sherlock's heart had been taken? Was he in love with someone? John felt a spike of jealousy and resent for whoever this person was. How dare they have Sherlock's heart. Why can't it be John? John paused internally. Why was John so jealous? He didn't like Sherlock. He never liked Sherlock. Sherlock was a friend, but friends don't get jealous over their friend's relationship because they want it to be them. Maybe John wanted Sherlock as a little more than a friend, but he only liked women. His brain was just being weird again. It's because he hadn't been with any women in a while. He just missed Mary, and Sherlock was the only person around that he could be with, so his brain was just skipping to conclusions. John needed to meet someone. There was one person that came to mind, the woman he had met on the bus. He had always wanted more and now was the time for that. He could unblock her number and text her. It would be something that has no strings attached. It will help John get his mind off Sherlock. He'll be able to realize his feelings were stupid.

When John was back at the flat he felt strange guilt. Like sending a text to this woman would be cheating on Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't romantically interested in John at all. John stared at his phone and the text that was sitting and waiting to be sent

Would you maybe want to meet up sometime this week?

John shut off his phone, he needed time to consider. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted something. He wanted someone, but this just didn't feel right to him. She didn't feel right for him. He felt like he would be using her. He would use her to distract himself from his own problems. He didn't need a distraction he needed advice. He really needed advice. Who was he supposed to get advice from?

John sat at a small table with a pink linen table cloth on it. The chairs were rickety and felt as if they were going to fall apart any moment, whereas the table cloth looked pricey and was clearly good quality. It had ballerinas dancing on it, and could definitely be used as a small blanket.

"What are you here for, John?" Mrs. Hudson asked,

"I need some advice." John expected Mrs. Hudson to be the last person he went to, but there he was, sitting in her flat.

"Aw, did something go down between you and Sherlock?",

"No, no, that's not it. Well, I mean. I don't know." John wanted to smack his head into the desk. "I need advice on feelings."

"Oh, John," Mrs. Hudson sounded genuinely caring. Or maybe John just wanted her to care.

"I'm not in love, before you think I am. I'm just confused and I want advice.",

"Is it Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson knew before John. The articles knew before John. John realized with those words, that he was indeed stupid for Sherlock. He had to admit it to himself. He can't deny it all.

"I don't like men." Denial, denial, denial. All he did was deny. He had realized, but he wasn't going to acknowledge it. He may know, but if he ignores it, it's not real.

"I may be your landlady, but that doesn't make me oblivious." ,

"But I'm not-"

Mrs. Hudson interrupted him, "my advice is to stop denying it."

John pushed up from the table, shocked the chair didn't crumble. "I think that's enough advice for today." He hissed as he left the flat.

TAG LIST: @johnlocktrashsblog @ephemeraljimin @artefo @love-j0y

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 77: Three

The ending is in no way significant of anything at all. Definitely.

First  Previous  Next

Lance comes back in from the gardens with a frosty-furred, very happy wolf cub. Their quarters are still dark, lit only by the crackling fire. “Okay, go find Keith! Come on.”

The cub yawns, walks slow and tired over to the nightstand sniffing Keith’s ignored breakfast curiously. After a varga of play in the frost, Lance is surprised the cub’s got that much left in him.

“Beloved?” Lance gazes at Keith’s curled up form, burrowed into the blankets of their bed. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” It’s not convincing. “I’m just nauseous.”

Keith’s nausea has gotten a lot worse in the last two movements. He’s been skipping breakfast on the regular, and now sometimes lunch. It’s worrying them both that he’s not getting enough nutrients.

Lance frowns, runs fingers through Keith’s hair. “You can tell me if something’s wrong. I can help.”

Keith shakes his head. “I’m just not myself today.”

“Is there really nothing I can do?”

“Just go to breakfast, okay? I’ll be fine... But maybe come visit me later?”

“Of course. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”  That at least earns Lance a small smile. He’ll take it. “What are your plans for this afternoon? Lay here and be sick?”

“Mhm. Maybe play with Wolfy and Bleeps a little bit. Try not to freeze to death.”

“Use your cloak. And mine if you want it.” Lance bends down to kiss his temple. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you so much too- Ugh.” Keith curls tighter around his unhappy insides. “I love you as much as I hate nausea.”

“Trash can’s right here if you need to barf; I’ll send food for you if you want it; I’ll come check on you as soon as I can.” With a kiss to Keith’s cheek, Lance leaves their quarters, hoping he’s not too late to breakfast.

In the dining hall, Lance takes his place, picking food off of platters as servants bring them over to him. As he digs into some flowers with honey, he can’t help but notice his father’s keen eye.

“It’s nice of one of you to join us,” Alfor murmurs. Next to him, Coran rolls his eyes, but says nothing. “Where is Keith?”

“Not feeling well. He’ll eat when he’s hungry.”

Alfor’s ice-blue eyes narrow. “I see. Did he contract something on Daibazaal?”

Lance slows his chewing rate, appearing thoughtful. “Possibly. He wasn’t examined very thoroughly when we returned, and Tavo only gave him two injections. I assume it’s because he’s Galra, so there are fewer concerns.”

“Really?” Coran finds an actual reason to cut in. “Perhaps you should talk to him about a more thorough exam?”

“If Keith has any concerns, he will consult Tavo or his own physician back on Daibazaal. I don’t need to do that for him.” Lance shoves a frost lily into his mouth, licking the sweet floral nectar from his lips. “I have a lot to do today. There’s legislature regarding our colonies that needs to be updated, and I need to have new machinery sent to Arus, which requires a completely unnecessary amount of paperwork.”

“If that’s your way of asking to be excused, you may go,” Alfor murmurs, gaze searing into his son. Lance has gotten pretty good at lying lately. But not good enough.

“Thank you.” Lance wipes his mouth, sips his water, flies from his seat.

“And do tell Keith I hope he starts feeling better soon.”

Lance’s hesitating footsteps tell Alfor everything he needs to know. He tucks into his own breakfast, not looking at his husband.

“Dear… Don’t you do it.”

“Do what?” Alfor whines. “I haven’t even done anything!”

“Ah, but you were thinking about it!” Coran’s dark eyes glint with amusement. “Remember what we were talking about? About minding your own business?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing.”

“...But I want him to know that we will be here for him if he needs us?” Alfor asks, hopeful. Trying.

Coran nods slowly, considering that. “Yes, alright.”

“What, really?” Alfor almost never wins when versus his husband.

“Yes. I think he’d appreciate knowing you want to be there for him. And me of course, but I have to speak with Admiral Sonne on Arus to see what the quiznak is going on. If Lance is this stressed about it, I might have to hop over and knock a few heads together.”

“I hate it when you travel,” Alfor sighs, rising from the table, grunting at the pain in his knees as he straightens his legs. Coran follows suit.

“I know, but it would only be for a few quintants. Maybe a movement or two.”

“That’s so long,” Alfor bemoans.

Coran kisses him, sweet and familiar. “You’ll live, my darling. You always do.”

“Well... If you have to go, I guess you have to go.” Alfor tips forward to rest his head on Coran’s shoulder. Their arms wind into an embrace. “We have some fantastic kids, don’t we?”

“I’m astounded every day.” Coran draws back. “I’d best go contact Arus. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Alfor kisses Coran’s cheek, lets him go. His lips fall into a frown, deepening with every tap of his footsteps as he winds his way through the castle.

Lance jiggles his foot, heaves a sigh as he tries yet again to finish his draft. He’s preoccupied, worried about Keith. Aside from persistent morning sickness, he hasn’t been himself the last few quintants. Subdued, quiet- He’s begun isolating himself again, like he did last time he arrived from Daibazaal-

“Lancel.”

Lance looks up, rising from his chair. “Father. Can I do something for you?”

Alfor waves his hand, dismissing formality, and takes a seat by his son. “I want to talk to you about Keith. And what you’ve decided not to tell me.”

Lance’s hand freezes, releases the stylus. He turns to his father. “I beg your pardon?”

“Keith. And his pregnancy.” In hindsight, Alfor would realize that he could have used a bit more tact.

“What about it?”

“You hid this from me. Without any regard of what it might mean or how it might shift our priorities.”

“You haven’t exactly proven yourself to be trusted with the lives of children,” Lance bites, not missing a beat for even a second.

“What’s that supposed to mean-”

“That my husband is afraid of you, and what you’ll do to our children!”

Alfor licks his lips, a trait he’s passed to his son. “I regret what I have done to Keith. His fear is understandable. I would apologize, but I don’t think it would mean anything.”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“Still, I am happy for you. I understand the joy of becoming a father-”

“Father, you didn’t even want children!”

“How can you say that?-”

“Because you waited!” Lance snaps. “You waited until you and Mom absolutely had to have us! I’m not stupid!”

"Watch your mouth!" Alfor barks. "Don't you dare disrespect your mother like that. Or me."

Lance closes his mouth with a snap, shaken by his father's sudden anger.

“Lance, we-” Alfor runs a withering hand through his shaggy hair. “We waited to have you kids because I’m fucking gay! Not because we didn’t want you. I loved your mother, dearly, but it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to father children with her. And, for the record, it wasn’t easy for her, either.”

Lance averts his gaze, sheepish. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I put my hands on your mother, not loving her or wanting her. And she knew it. And she didn’t want it either. But that is the way it is done. So no one can question it, no one can doubt your blood. We did that, to each other, for you . And your sister. So don’t you so much as insinuate that we did not want you. Understand?”

Lance gulps, nods. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

Sometimes, Lance still feels like a boy. It’s rare that Alfor’s ire is so well-deserved, and it’s been a long time since Lance has been on the receiving end. He waits to see if his father is finished.

“Now, I wanted to talk to you because we now find ourselves in a potentially difficult situation. Keith’s health is far from perfect. Add to that the burdens of a fetus and the current political climate, what we have uncovered- we need to think very carefully about how to protect you and your family.”

Lance nods, sits back in his chair. “What about you and dad?”

“Not important. You, Keith, and this child are our future. The lynchpin that holds this society together. Were something to happen to you, it’s unlikely our people could recover. But you know that.”

Lance gulps, forces himself to meet his father’s gaze. “Am I- Am I a bad person? All this stuff is happening and-”

“No. Oh, Lance-” Alfor takes his hand, squeezes it tight. “Lance, you are not a bad anything. The truth is, there’s never a good time to start a family, or have a child. The Galra are not the only people who hold a grudge against us, and tragedies and freak accidents happen every day. Why, as we speak, our ships are shifting an asteroid away from our planet so we aren’t destroyed in a collision.

“Let me ask you something. Did you want this child?”

“Yes.”

“Did Keith want this child?”

“Yes.”

“Then this baby will be far luckier than some, just for that. And from what I’ve seen of you, and seen of Keith, and seen of you both together… This child will be blessed indeed. Far better off than you were.”

“You think so?” Lance asks, eyes stinging.

“I know so.” Alfor smiles, squeezing the hand still in his grip before releasing it. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandfather twice.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be a grandfather at least four times,” Lance laughs, sniffling a little, but willing to be happy with his father now that the tension is over.

“Mnh. I know you must do your duty to Daibazaal. So perhaps I’ll be a grandfather more times than that. Your sister doesn’t want more than two children. It may give you and Keith an opportunity to indulge in a larger family, should you so desire.”

“We do currently. I’m curious to see how Keith will feel after baby number one.”

“Very true. Child-bearing is some freaky shit.”

“Seriously. I don’t envy him. I need to get back to him.” Lance sighs. “But right now I need to finish this draft. I never know how to finish off these missives.”

“Oh, that’s the easy part. Summarize what you need done, how you want it done, why it’s important. Three sentences. Then say something encouraging. And then say, ‘Many thanks, Crown Prince Lancel.’ Simple as that. Wash, rinse, repeat until your paperwork is done.”

“That’s… actually pretty useful. Thanks.” Lance finishes typing, sending it along to Adam to look over before it’s passed along to their Admiral on Arus. “I still have all this…” Lance scrolls demonstratively through his list of tasks. “To complete before thaw, but I need to get back to Keith. He’s not himself today. In a different way than normal.”

“What actually needs to be done with it?”

“It’s all crusty, outdated, discriminatory, no longer applicable, or otherwise in need of a rewrite.”

“Why don’t I get started on it and you and Adam can look over it when it’s done?”

Lance hesitates a moment, tapping his stylus on the table. He’s reluctant to entrust policy to anyone else, even Keith, but he has more than one responsibility now. Alfor can do this paperwork. He can't be a husband to Keith. He nods. “Send them to Adam and myself directly. I’ll let him know to expect it.” Lance stacks his tablets carefully on the table for someone to put away for him later. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man, Lance.” Alfor rises with his son, smile deeply fond.

“Keith says the same thing.”

“He’s a remarkably smart young man. Now, go take care of your house.” Alfor kisses the top of his son’s head. “I’ll send dinner to your quarters if you don’t show up.”

“Thanks. I love you, Father.”

“I love you, too.”

And he actually believes it.

Keith’s not in their quarters. Yet, strangely,  Wolfy and BleepBloop are, Wolfy by the garden doors, BleepBloop glaring at the cub from the loft ladder. Has Keith actually gone outside?

Lance goes to pull his cloak from the closet, and notices that Keith’s is still hanging there. Cursing, he hurries to fasten the heavy fabric under his chin. He should give it a minute to warm up to his body temperature, but with Keith potentially out in the cold, he doesn’t want to wait. He’ll just have to hope it’s good enough.

On his way out, he snatches up Keith’s cloak.

The good thing about the frost is that he can see a set of footprints. The bad news is that those footprints are fading quickly as the frost creeps back up into the frozen moss. Speeding along, Lance squeezes through the gap in the garden wall, following the tracks into the forest. They’re getting a bit more clear, the dulled colors of the mossy forest floor showing through more clearly.

It dawns on Lance quite suddenly where he’s going, and he breaks into a run.

Panting, breath pluming, he skids to a halt outside the grotto where he learned to swim. His foot slips on an icy patch of frost, and he scrambles for a second before his hip hits the frozen ground.

Ouch.

Whatever.

Inside, Keith’s curled up on the icy pond, bundled in an enormous swathe of black fabric. The only thing Lance can see is a mess of long, black hair tumbling over the ice.

“Beloved?” The bundle twitches, curls tighter. “Beloved are you alright? Are you sick? Are you hurt?” A head shake.

Lance creeps over the frosty ground, sitting down next to his husband, throwing the red cloak over his form. Lance gently reaches out to Keith, brushing up against him, feeling what he feels-

A well of homesickness, deep, hollow, aching. Whimpering, Lance curls around his husband, hurting with him but refusing to let him go despite hot tears dripping down the side of his face.

“You know, I-” Lance gulps. “I know how you feel. A little. Remember that night at Thace and Ulaz’ place? I feel like- like I met myself that night. Like for those few vargas, I knew who I was, and I liked that person. But now… There’s no place for that person here. Here, I’m Crown Prince Lancel, and there I was Lance, and there’s no room for Lance here.

“It’s like I lost a piece of me. And lost a piece of us.”

A deep sigh, and Keith rolls over, cuddling closer in Lance’s arms. “I see him every now and then.” The man dredges up a sad smile, lays a hand to Lance’s cheek, brushes his thumb over red-tinted scales. “He’s never really gone.” A long silence, tender companionship. “I’m sorry.”

“You scared me a little bit.”

“Everything is dead here. And it’s all so quiet. Lying there by myself… All I could do was wish you were there with me. Like when we went home, and you were there all day, every day. I guess I got used to it.

“And I miss the red earth, and the afternoon heat, and the moons. I miss them so much. I-” Keith breaks off on a chirp.

“Hey, hey.” Lance pulls Keith closer, strokes his hair. “You’ll see it again, beloved. We’ll go together.”

It’s a few minutes before either speaks again, preferring instead the comfort of touch.

“Sorry, I think I’m just having a mood swing.”

“Your feelings aren’t invalid just because you’re having a mood swing.” Lance kisses his husband’s forehead. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Yes, I'm very cold."

Lance rises first, helps Keith to his feet. "I'm going to come up with a better plan for keeping you company. You're being neglected, and you haven't had anything to do lately."

"You know I can advocate for myself, right?"

"You can, but you don't."

"Right." Keith doesn't argue. He even sounds a little guilty. Lance counts it as a win.

“Where did you get that ridiculously huge cloak?”

“It was Shiro’s,” Keith murmurs. “He gave it to me as a gift when he found me. I didn’t have any clothes, so he gave it to me to cover myself with and help me stay warm. It was the first thing anyone gave me in all that time. The first kindness I’d seen.”

“And you left it behind,” Lance concludes. He knows by now that everything Keith brought with him -himself, his blade, and the clothes on his back- were taken from him upon his arrival. They never found his original clothes.

“Yeah. But now I have it again!” Keith grins. “ I was thinking, since it’s so big, we could use some of it to make a blanket for the little one?”

“Aww, Ke-eith! That’s so sweet!”

Keith hums, pleased by his mate’s enthusiasm. “The Galra used to have this philosophy that kindness doesn’t go back around, but forward. If someone does something kind for you, you’re meant to pay kindness to someone else.”

“I like that,” Lance whispers, swinging their hands back and forth between them. “You know, my father has discovered us. He’s… happy for us. I mean actually for us . Out of all the scenarios I imagined, that wasn’t one of them.”

“I’m glad you two are getting along better.” It’s a white lie, one Lance appreciates.

“He seems… excited. Like he’s really looking forward to being a grandfather. I’m really looking forward to getting to know my father, and watching him grow.”

Keith smiles. “You’ve been waiting a long time to have a relationship with Alfor, huh?”

“So long,” Lance breathes. “Obviously, I’d never allow him to do anything to endanger our child, but I really, really hope I never have to face that.”

Keith leans over to bump their shoulders together. “I hope so too.” He smiles. “You’re going to be an awesome father. I hope he gets to see that.”

“Thanks, beloved.”

The winter's silence falls around them, but it's not quite so crushing, so lonely anymore. There's two sets of footsteps, the warmth of a second body.

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

“I actually do miss Daibazaal. And how we were when we were there.”

“Me too. We’ll go again. As soon as we can.” Lance throws his arm around Keith’s shoulders after the squeeze back through the garden wall. “After all, little one’s gonna have to see where their daddy came from, right?”

“Definitely. I want them to be proud of what they are, Lance.”

“Absolutely. Hybrid children are the future. And we get to create that. It’s gonna be beautiful. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t wait to share it with you,” Keith whispers, gazing at his smiling mate.

It’s time for the turning of the age.

[songofclarity]

I pity Xue Yang don't get me wrong I think he absolutely earned his ending, but he was a teenager (at least in the novel). A child that had not finished growing mentally when he committed his first crime and it's possible with the right kind of support he could have seen the error of what he did and came back from it but that's wishful thinking. He met the Jin clan who turned him into their personal killing machine, a text book psychopath. What a short pitiful life.

Hello, Anon! Since I wasn’t sure what inspired this ask, I've been mulling over it for awhile, because Xue Yang! Gotta admit, I enjoy him immensely as an antagonist even though I have a tangle of feelings and thoughts about him. So I’m going to try to iron some of them out since you brought him up!

Short version is I agree with you! Which makes me want to tread through why it is true. (And it’s a long tread so fair warning for under the cut!)

Because it was indeed a short, pitiful life. But then, he was perhaps the most pitiful character in the series. I'm hesitant to write any characters off as psychopaths, however, since this is fiction and that undermines his experiences and choices and the story he is meant to help tell.

Xue Yang was an an orphan growing up on the street. No parents, no money, no goals in life, no purpose in life. Already a very depressing start made worse by how incredibly self-aware Xue Yang is of his situation when he tells his story. Considering Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, Xue Yang isn’t looking any higher than the floor.

And then he was seven years old when he was used and abused by adults in positions of power. No one came to save him like Jiang FengMian did Wei WuXian. He has no one like Meng Shi who wanted nice things for him or a woman like SiSi who looked out for him like they did for Jin GuangYao. Xue Yang had only himself, so it makes sense that he grew up to only care about and understand himself--and by the time he makes a “home” with Xiao XingChen and A-Qing, he’s too far gone to mend his ways without serious intervention.

An intervention, absolution, or redemption might all indeed be wishful thinking, if only because that is a work of labor and love. Either someone needs to find value in Xue Yang as a person worth redeeming or Xue Yang needs to find a sense of security and self-confidence in himself that precludes the need to do murder from some point onward. Xue Yang has been ruined and ruined himself to such a degree that surely any attempt to “save” him would come across as an insult, would make him feel inferior, and might just make him more aggressive.

Sadly, even though he did very horrible things, monstrous things, the tragedy is that he was encouraged and empowered and effectively trained to do them. Before he was picked up by the Lanling Jin Sect, he was just an angry delinquent. He bullied street vendors, destroyed property, made a name for himself with general violence, but there is no hint or insinuation that he killed people yet. That happened later. That happened after he met Jin GuangYao. And we know Xue Yang wasn’t thought irredeemable when he first joined the Jin because of Nie MingJue:

Nie MingJue frowned, “Xue Yang of Kuizhou?”

Jin GuangYao nodded. Xue Yang had been infamous ever since he was young. Wei WuXian clearly felt Nie MingJue’s brows knit even tighter. He spoke, “Why are you wasting your time with such a person?”

Jin GuangYao, “The LanlingJin Sect recruited him.”

He didn’t dare to protest any further. Excuse being that he needed to care for the guests, he scurried to the other side. Nie MingJue shook his head and turned around.

(Ch. 49, Exiled Rebel Scanlations)

Nie MingJue lets it drop. Nie MingJue is ready to see Xue Yang executed on the spot when his mass murder crimes come out, but not now. Xue Yang is a concern, but so was Jin GuangYao. Nie MingJue is trying to big-brother Jin GuangYao into following the right path, so if the Jin recruited Xue Yang, maybe he, too, is on a better path now. Nie MingJue will realize this isn’t true later, and he’ll pay with his life for being the only one who tries to protect the common folk, which includes all the other innocent Xue Yangs out there who are poor and at risk to harm, but I digress.

Xue Yang still got what was coming to him, but it really was just the pitiful end to a pitiful life. He was treated like a dog, grew up to be feral, was not properly retrained, and then had to be put down. Did he have choices in the matter? Technically yes, but then he’s a still child when the Jin begin to use him.

Jin GuangYao, "Will you be free the next few days?"

Xue Yang, "Won’t I have to do it no matter what?" (Ch. 118)

Xue Yang isn’t unaware of his position on the hierarchy.

He was used by Chang Cian, because there are no consequences for abusing and maiming orphans. There’s some textbook psychology for little Xue Yang from Piaget and Erikson that I won’t get into, but the fact is an expectation as simple as ‘I do a task and get rewarded for the task’ resulted in him being beaten and maimed does a lot of distortion to both expectations in life and self-confidence.

He was used by Jin GuangShan, because he grew into a defensive and spiteful teenager whom people always looked down upon. He’s gone feral, but give a dog a warm bed, clean clothes, protection, and a new toy called the Stygian Tiger Seal to play with, and he won't bite the hand that feeds him.

He can be trained to bite everyone else, too, and definitely he wants to. He’s so quick to feel slighted, to wanting to avenge himself, that even Jin GuangYao, the master of self-pity, takes notice, such as when Xue Yang first meets Xiao XingChen and Song Lan:

Jin GuangYao mused, "They didn’t really do much to you, so why the anger?"

Xue Yang spat, "I find these fake, conceited people the absolute most disgusting. That Xiao XingChen was clearly not even that much older than me, poking his nose into other people’s business—annoying. And he started giving me a lecture. And that Song guy.” He sneered, “I only brushed past his arm, so what was with that look he gave me? Sooner or later, I’ll dig out his eyes and shatter his heart. Let’s see what he’ll do when that happens." (Ch. 118)

This might have grown from the seven year old who was minding his own business, promised candy for a task, and then grievously injured. This is aggressive self-defense. This is ‘I will hurt them before they hurt me.’ He’s looking for threats. Because did he know Chang Cian or the man who received the letter were going to hurt him? No. And he’s making sure no one hurts him ever again.

And yet.

He was used by Jin GuangYao, who understood Xue Yang the best as they walked side-by-side, as Jin GuangYao showed him kindness, gave him advice, offered him everything. Then once Jin GuangYao got what he wanted out of him, once what Jin GuangYao had helped make Xue Yang into was more a liability than a boom, Jin GuangYao told the cultivation world he was getting rid of him.

We aren't told what happened next, but I do have to wonder about the timeline. Xue Yang helped Jin GuangYao murder Jin GuangShan, Jin GuangYao announced to the cultivation world he was going to get rid of Xue Yang, then the next we hear about Xue Yang is that he is found, half-dead, on the side of the road by Xiao XingChen. Was Xue Yang one of Jin GuangYao's victims who got away? I wouldn’t be surprised since it fits Jin GuangYao’s methods, but that Xue Yang doesn’t storm the gates in revenge leaves room for doubt. But then a dog that has been severely beaten would know to stay away until he’s recovered, and we know Xue Yang, after he is found by Xiao XingChen, becomes distracted by this new domestic situation instead.

I also want to point out Xue Yang’s courtesy name: Xue Chengmei. I admit i don’t know the full background of when or how these Chinese names are given, but my current assumption is it was given to him by the Jin. The translations I’ve seen include "to help fulfil the wishes of others" (Exiled Rebels Scanlations) and also "help others do good deeds" (from the modao-zushi fandom wiki).

As Jin GuangYao was the one to bring him in, it’s possible that he was the one to explicitly name him. And this, to me, presents Xue Yang in the most pitiful light: Xue Yang was Jin GuangYao’s second pearl to his father. Jin GuangShan wanted a demonic cultivator and Jin GuangYao found what was needed to please him, to try to win him over. Xue Yang was not brought and kept at Koi Tower for self-improvement or self-growth. He was brought in as a useful tool. He was brought in so Jin GuangYao’s wishes could be fulfilled.

So Xue Yang's life is something that is meant to be used by others. It's no wonder he goes absolutely feral and delights in the macabre and abuse of others -- because physical power, the power to hurt, is tthe only power he understands. By the time he leaves Koi Tower he's a rabid dog with no place to belong, beaten once again by a trusted master, and harboring feelings of resentment and hatred in his inferiority. So when Xiao XingChen arrives and helps him, it’s another nice warm bed, new clothes, and new toys to play with in the form of Xiao XingChen and A-Qing's blindness.

But what of interventions? Of teaching him to do better? Remember that Nie MingJue tries to guide Jin GuangYao with good advice at their first meeting, and Xiao XingChen also tries to guide Xue Yang, by advising Jin GuangYao, at their first meeting:

Right after, [Xiao XingChen] turned his gaze towards Xue Yang, "However, even if he’s still at a young age, as he has taken a seat amongst Koi Tower’s guest cultivators, it’s still best if he learns restraint. After all, the LanlingJin Sect is one of the most prestigious sects. It needs to lead by example in many aspects." (Ch. 118)

The Lanling Jin Sect needs to lead by example -- but they don’t. Jin GuangYao has the power to be a good person, but he won’t. And Xue Yang pays for it. Everyone at Yi City suffers for it. Xue Yang doesn’t learn restraint and Jin GuangYao mirrors back what Xue Yang wants to see: someone like him. Jin GuangYao humored his macabre practical jokes. They sentenced innocent people to die together, showed their true faces to each other, and committed a most horrific fratricide together. Xue Yang was having fun, he was feeling powerful, and he didn’t feel like he had to stop when he met Xiao XingChen, whom he hated at first horsewhip-lash. Xiao XingChen can’t look down on him if Xiao XingChen is brought down to his level. It’s only a human tongue in that tea. It’s only Shuanghua in some dude’s chest. It’s hilarious, Xiao XingChen, you should see your face!

It’s nothing more than a child playing with a toy. Of course Xue Yang would end up destroying the one good thing he accidentally stumbled upon. Jin GuangYao had showed him kindness too, and looked how that turned. No one had ever done something out of charity and kindness for him, so how was he supposed to recognize it for what it was? The answer is he couldn’t, it was impossible, and then he spent the next ~7 years trying to get Xiao XingChen back and still it was for all the wrong reasons. Does he hate? Does he want? Is it love? Is it spite?

But Xiao XingChen had bandaged his wounds when no one else had. Xiao XingChen had given him the candy no one else had.

The last piece of candy Xue Yang held onto for all those years without eating...

A short, pitiful life indeed.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Day 14: The Last Day

Hi guys! Here she is! The last of our quarantine fic as the world is opening up, whether it should or not. It’s short, but felt complete! Huge thanks to everyone who read and reblogged! A huge thanks for @dirtystyles and @emulateharry for the read throughs and cheerleading! I am sure there will be other little odds and ends-

Harry’s POV maybe...

Day 14: The One With The Loss

"Where the f ..." Elise felt frantic, she could not find her bracelet. Her grandmother had given it to her. She didn't care at this point if she had to leave everything else behind, but she couldn't leave that.

She'd been incredibly close to her grandma Rose. On Some hard days, Elsie would have said she was the only one who ever really loved her. When she was dying Elise had gone to the hospital as much as possible to sit with her, at first to play cards, and then to hold her hand, and finally to curl up next to her and cry. When grandma was still able to talk she'd told her to go in her jewelry box, the one that was packed from her room at the assisted living facility and find her opal bracelet.

They shared an October 21st birthday. Grandma Rose said she'd had the bracelet since her sweet sixteen. Elise was a little older than that when she got it, but the bracelet was priceless and irreplaceable at this point. Her random t shirts and even her books could stay, but not her bracelet.

She'd been packing for a couple hours at this point. She wasn't aware she had this much stuff, or that it was so spread out. She'd been pretty unemotional through the whole process, until she couldn't find her bracelet. Elise might have been crying inside before then, but she was really freaking out now.

It was the first time she had cried since the talk with Harry.

"Is that what you're so scared of?" He'd said.

She'd scoffed. That got her back up. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Are you kidding me?" He actually laughed at her. "You're scared of everything!"

"Fuck you Harry! You don't know how I feel."

"Of course I don't. It might actually kill you to talk about your feelings or be honest." His hands were crossed over his chest.

"Honest, feelings? Cuz you are the king of talking about real shit?" Her hands came off her hips and she was pointing. "All we do is play, or fuck. You may actually be a lost boy."

"I'm just trying to read your comfort level, love. That seems to be the depth of life you're willing to deal in. Gotta keep it light for poor Elise, or she will run away. I'm dont even know why I bother." He sighed. "If you liked spending time with me at all, without being entertained all the time, I would not have to lure you out of your room every damn day with some promise of food or comfort or sex. It's so damn hard to know you."

"How dare you!" She seethed. He'd insinuated she was shallow right? That's what that bullshit about depth implied. "I am not shallow. Or a damn child who needs to be bribed. Maybe if I had any idea what I was doing here, or why you were being so nice to me, I'd not be so damn afraid I'd need to hide. I don't know you either, and your intentions are even more obscure."

"What you're doing here? I was just trying to make sure you were ok, or safe. Take care of you. If you were unwell it would be my fault."

"Cmon Harry, we both know you could have got us tests and sent me packing ages ago. What little fantasy are we living out here?"

"Yours!" He shouted.

And the conversation got more intense from there.

"Where could I have?" Elise's cheeks were wet; she was nauseous. This day had already been too much. She'd just got her head in her palms to weep when strong hands came onto her shoulders.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Harry asked into her black hair before kissing it.

"I can't find my grandma's bracelet anywhere. She gave it to me when they told her she was running out of time." She turned a watery frown on him and he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Ok, well tell me what it looks like and I'll help you."

Elise described the delicate piece and they each set off to look. She was essentially tossing things out of her way adding to the mess. The room had already looked casually like a bomb went off, but she was a mess when she looked for things. She did notice Harry was orderly in his disarray.

"When'd you wear it last?"

"I don't wear it. I'm too afraid I'll break it." She told him, and he chuckled.

"If you say something about patterns or bad habits I will cut you." She mentioned.

He put his hands up in surrender. And they both laughed.

He had a point.

Elise was thinking about how their fight the night before had gone when Harry said. "Is this it?"

"Oh my god." Tears filled her eyes anew and ran down her cheeks. "Thank you! What would I do without you?" It was an honest question. It had only been fourteen days but she honestly couldn't imagine not knowing him, really knowing him, not about him, or speculating about him, or inferring about him, or projecting about him. Knowing him, underneath his clothes, under his skin.

"No need to find out!" He smoothed her hair and then gave her a smooch. "Now, can you grab whatever you need so we can pretend we hate that we have to be locked in a house together for an undefined time."

She giggled. "You don't hate that you are stuck in your house with me for who knows how long?"

"Are you going to let me turn up the heater and stay naked?" He picked up one of the boxes she'd put together.

"Not all of the time."

"Then some of the time?" He curled his tongue and poked it to the side of his mouth.

How was she supposed to say no to that. "Maybe."

"Then hurry." Kiss. "Up." Kiss. " we need to go play strip scrabble."

"Im not playing scrabble with you." She said for the umpteenth time.

"Strip monopoly?"

"No."

"Apples to apples?"

"How the hell.." she just laughed at his hugely dimpled smile. "How about we just go in your hot tub and drink margaritas naked."

"Deal!" He started tossing clothes wildly into bags. It was out of character except for his insatibility. "Hurry up! We have plans!"

"To have sex?" God he was sooo cute. "More sex." She clarified.

"Yea, aren't those very important?" He stepped into her space and planted his hands on her hips and his flag in her heart. He'd leaned in close, but didn't connect their lips.

She gulped and leaned up against his arms keeping her feet planted and away from his tempting lips. "Yes, very important."

"Yeah." He said and kissed her silly.

She'd never done it on that bed. Seemed funny to do it after it had been stripped and with the knowledge it would never happen again.

It could have went another way. Elise kept catching herself in moments and feeling grateful, that once Harry started talking, he really started talking.

The day before, when he shouted the truth about living out her own fantasy, she'd started to walk away. She couldn't handle the truth. It was at least half true, it was a wonderful two weeks of her life, and it looked like now it was over. Elise knew she couldn't handle going back to his place and fighting more, or worse facing silent treatment. Plus, if he had wanted her there, he still hadn't said that today or before. She was about to cross the threshold of the room. Harry muttered something about her walking away.

She stopped and turned. She only had to walk away if she wanted to be done.

"This has been a fantasy, of course it has. Like a dream come true. And I'm really scared. I have no idea why I'm here, not really, or what we are doing, or what..." she sucked in some oxygen. "Or what." She felt tears building in her eyes. "How you feel about me." She expected him to say something, but instead he just stood and stared at her, waiting for her to talk. "And what happens tomorrow."

"What?" It was the first thing he'd said during her rant.

"We' re almost done with friends." She whispered.

He was nodding. "We are. so?"

"You said." She swallowed. "Last week you said we should finish Friends, the you said we only had three more days to finish."

He was nodding. "I guess I did, but Elise, the end of friends, it doesn't mean the end of us. And I'll answer all the questions you have. If you want the answers. But, I'll be honest and say I have no idea how you feel about me, like the real me, too. It's why I held back so long."

"So long? It's only been two weeks."

"Pretty intense two weeks." He wiped her tears. "It felt like forever. I wanted to love you up by day five."

She giggled. "Me too."

"Ugh." He groaned. "All that missed opportunity." But they were both smiling. "New challenge: make up for lost time now."

She was shaking her head at his ridiculous eyebrows. "So, you like me?" She asked.

"At the risk of being really obvious, I like you, like really like you, maybe could be more." He tilted her chin up. "and you like me? Me me?"

Elise nodded then thought she had already been this brave. "More than like, I think."

He beamed. "Honestly Elise, when I first brought you home it was out of guilt and because it didn't initially occur to me to just get tests." He looked down. "I had Jeff do research, and we had to wait a few days, and by then, well, I really liked spending time with you."

"Me too." All these confession made her feel like a feather.

"And nothing happens tomorrow. It's not some scary end date, I'm not kicking you out at check out time." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Honestly? I'd really like it if you stayed with me, for however long this lasts. We've already been exposed to each other.."

"You think?"

"Very exposed to each other." He laughed with her. "And then after, whenever that is. We talk about it. You can keep your place, or save the money."

"I could pay for groceries."

He sighed. "Ok, you can pay for groceries." He quirked a brow and the dimples that bracketed his mouth wanted to break free, they just needed her response. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

"I'll stay." The full wattage of his smile was really like A full moon on a clear night. He bridged the space between them and swooped her into his arms.

"Good, I'd miss you if you were gone."

"I'd miss you if I was gone too." She was honest, hopefully it would become a new habit.

"Then let's not let that happen." He kissed her then, and it was a piece of this tiny instance of forever she'd keep always, if they wound up married fifty years or broke up by pandemic's end.

"Can I tell you something really crazy?"!She asked with her ear pressed to his heart. She felt his body nod on her head. "I'm so glad you sneezed in my face."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I could do it again?" He offered, his body vibrating with his laugh.

"I'm good now thanks. But, I'm still glad it happened."

"Me too baby, me too."

[myusualnerdyself]

After the Sun Sets- Part II (Ethan x F!Mc)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: None

A/n: Thank you for the response to the first half (Link here). Here’s the second and the final part. Please enjoy.

Tag List: @elwetritsche75 @schnitzelbutterfingers @binny1985

xxxx

“This looks familiar.” Ethan couldn’t help but remark upon entering the ocean-facing balcony.

“Yeah, everything is same except they have done some renovations, the table and chairs are different.” Casey said while absentmindedly stroking the tabletop.

“You even remember the furniture?” he asked, surprise colouring his tone.

“I remember everything about that night, Ethan.” 

He didn’t know how to reply to that. Truth be told, he had replayed the same night in his head countless times, the memory among others had somehow helped him maintain his sanity whenever the loneliness became too much but he couldn’t tell her that, not without leading the conversation to places he wasn’t ready to go yet. So he stalled, 

“Care for a drink?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching him work, his age had started to catch up with him, there was a sparse spattering of white among the dark brown hair. He looked a bit tired too, the constant movement of his job had taken its toll but it hadn't in any way affected his handsome looks or personality that still exuded the same authority and confidence. Even after so many years, she could see why she was drawn to him, imagining how damn easy it would have been for her younger self to fall for his charms.

“So how have you been?” She asked while taking a seat beside him.

“Fine I guess, the WHO projects keep me busy, it’s just one country after another.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Doesn’t that tire you? Being constantly on the run?” 

Ethan flinched at her choice of words but decided not to comment on it. “I do what I have to do. There is an extreme scarcity of healthcare facilities in the developing countries, the situation is so much worse. I try to do my part.” 

“That’s nice. I sometimes wonder if I should do something like that. ” She said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Why? The position of Director of Diagnostics team is not everything you imagined it to be?” He said with a grin.

“Hate to wipe that smirk off of your face, but I do enjoy my job a lot. It’s just that I have spent all of my career in Edenbrook, a change for a few months would help me. I think it would be a good learning opportunity.” 

“That’s true, you’ll gain a lot from it. Let me know if you ever plan on doing it, I can tell you all about the on-going projects and what to expect from each of them.”  

“You mean you won’t ignore my e-mails anymore?” She said, the hurt unmistakable in her voice.

He sighed, “Casey, you know why I cut off all communication between us.”

“No, I don’t! Come to think of it, I don’t know a lot of things. I don’t know why you left without telling me first, without thinking about me, without bothering to contact me for seven FUCKING YEARS.” She said, unable to contain her anger anymore.

“I had to leave, the insinuations about us were getting crazy, the board had started to take notice, they were questioning your credibility, saying you got the spot just because I favoured you, that you were sleeping your way to the top. I didn’t want to be the reason why everyone questioned your merit. I was your mentor, my job was to help you push yourself to your limits, to make you the best doctor you can be, not to hold you back. And look where it got you, you achieved so much.” He said, pacing the length of the balcony now, willing her to understand.

“Well, we could have dealt with it together, what gave you the right to make that decision on your own? How could you leave me like that? Didn’t you ever miss me? Didn’t you have feelings for me?” She shouted at him.

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. After everything he did to protect her reputation and career, the fucking nerve of her to question his feelings, he was positively furious. 

“Of course I missed you, I missed you every fucking night, that’s why I took such a demanding job, so that I didn’t have the time to think about you, to stop myself from rushing back to you. I had to leave the way I did. I knew it would hurt too much to say it your face, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave, to muster the courage to walk away if I stopped to say goodbye. And how could you even question my feelings for you when you are the one who went out and got married. Huh?”  It was a low blow and a completely irrational one but he always felt a pang of jealousy that she had moved on with her life while he was still stuck on her.

They stood facing each other, both out of breath, the calming waves of the ocean doing nothing to soothe their raging emotions at the moment.

“Really? Do you want to talk about my marriage? My marriage that lasted for what, four years?” She replied, a humourless laugh escaping her.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyes falling to her bare index finger, a place where he hadn’t dared to glance at up till now, not wanting the reminder of her marital status.

“We split up Ethan. He has filed for divorce.” Her voice broke at the last word and he couldn’t help himself, moving forward to give her a comforting embrace, all of his anger forgotten.  

“I am sorry Casey. But how can someone be such a huge idiot to leave you?” Although he wouldn’t agree with you if you asked him but there was a small part of him that was delighted, happy in the knowledge that she was a free woman.

“Well according to him, I am too detached, that I don’t love him as much as he does and deserves and most of the time it feels like I am completing a duty to him, just going through the motions of married life and not enjoying it. That the only thing I truly care about is my work.” Her voice sounded so defeated that all he wanted to do was kill the assehole who made her feel like that, even if he had done him a favour.

“So he left you because you are too devoted to your work? That to you your patients come first and everything comes after? I am sorry but sounds to me that he just doesn’t know how to be with a kind, compassionate and a career-driven woman.” He said resolutely.

“No Ethan, it’s not like that. Everything he said is true. Deep down, I knew I never loved him. Being around him for longer periods had started to make me nauseous, I just couldn’t handle it, him being such a loving husband when I couldn’t reciprocate, at least not the way he wanted me to. So I started taking all these extra shifts in the hospital, trying to hide my guilt with the mask of helping people.” She smiled wryly..

“Then why did you marry him in the first place?” He asked, confused.

“It’s not that simple.” She replied, unable to look him in the eye.

“I am sure I can keep up.”

She was silent for a few moments, trying to collect her thoughts. Then she sighed and continued, “You know before meeting you or up till the time we were…whatever we were, I had these idealistic notions about my life, I believed that even with all the ups and downs, at the end I will get my happily ever after, and with you, all of it seemed possible, it was so easy to imagine a life together. But then you left, and I was shattered. It was like you took a part of me away with you, a part that was romantic, hopeful, a part that believed in things, a part that believed in love. And all that was left was this…..this jaded person. It was like I couldn’t feel things for people anymore, I had given up on the idea of love. I went on countless dates, but there was never a strong connection, the sort that we had. So I realized that maybe I was never going to feel something like that again. Therefore I settled for the next best thing, my ex-husband and I had similar interests, an easy relationship, he was never too demanding and I knew he loved me like crazy, so when he proposed, I said yes.” She said, her voice breaking by the end, the tears flowing freely.

“Shhh…Rookie, I am so sorry, I didn’t know you were suffering so much.” He tightened his arms around her, holding her close, his eyes full of unshed tears himself. All the times he had felt bitter thinking she had moved on coming back to him, and to know her actual state and that too all because of him, he didn’t think he would be ever able to forgive himself.

For a while, they just stood there like that, with her head resting on his chest and him stroking her back, trying to comfort her.

“You know, now I feel like I should have stopped your wedding.” He said breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” She glanced up at him.

“When I found that you were getting married, I couldn’t stop myself, the idea that you were going to be someone else’s forever was too much for me, so I came back to stop it, to tell you how I really felt, to beg you to give me another chance. But then I saw you in your wedding dress, you looked so radiant and dare I say....happy.  I just couldn’t do it so I left.” He said while playing with the strands of her hair that had come loose, rueful smile on his face/

“Wow, I can’t believe you did that.” She was shell-shocked, drowned in her sorrows she had never stopped to consider that maybe he was suffering as much. She always imagined him to anguished by their separation for a few months but then moving forward with his life.

“Yeah, me too.”

“So presently, do you have a special someone in your life?” She said, toying with the lapels of his jacket.

“No, I had a few on and off relationships but I never really got over you. I mean you would think it’s easy to forget one’s annoying, stubborn and rule-breaking intern but it’s not.” He said, throwing her earlier words back at him.

And the next moment, her lips were on his. It took him a minute to register what was happening, but then he was kissing her back with equal fervour, pouring everything that he felt into the kiss. He groaned when her tongue demanded entrance in his mouth, his memory hadn’t done justice to the feeling of her tongue sliding up against his, battling for dominance. They kissed like that for some time, both lost into each other’s sounds, touch and taste until they had to finally come up for air. But his lips weren’t ready to leave her skin yet, they moved onto her jaw, her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way, she moaned at the sensation, her hands tangling into his hair forcing his mouth back onto hers. After a while their kisses slowed to mere brushes of lips against lips, their foreheads touching.

“So you have feelings for me and I have feelings for you but where does this leave us?” she asked in a small voice, afraid of his answer.

“Wherever you want it to be. I have caused you enough pain, if you don’t want to do anything with me, I completely understand.” The thought of leaving her again was too difficult to even imagine but he tried to keep a brave front.

“Comeback to Edenbrook, take the position of  the diagnostic team’s head again.”

“What are you saying? I can’t do that. It was your dream, you have earned it.”

“I was anyway going to leave it, my research keeps me very busy, and I can’t juggle both of them together. We have been looking for a replacement for a while. Take it.” She said, taking his hand in hers.

“Well if that’s the case then I’ll be happy to.” He said, intertwining their fingers.

“Good, but that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. I mean I understand your reasons for doing everything and I know you weren’t happy during the time apart either but it was unfair of you to make a decision about us without taking my feelings into consideration. It will take me some time to get over it.”

“Of course. After everything you have been through, you letting me back in your life is more than I ask for, but I promise that from now I’ll try my best to give you the happily ever after you deserve.” He said while caressing her cheek, trying to convey the truth of his statement with his eyes.

Her face split into a blinding smile. He leaned down to kiss her softly on the lips but it quickly turned wild, both of them unable to restrain their desire for each other any longer, she moved her lips to his jaw, tracing a path to his ear with her tongue, making him shiver in the process, biting his earlobe, she whispered into the shell of his ear, “Well, you can start making up by taking me to bed.” 

“Yes, doctor.”

xxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading. Please like, comment and re-blog.

[all-things-fic]

Divorced Harry.... would you ever write it? X

A/N: I’m thinking of making this some sort of series as I think the whole concept of failed relationship definitely has many layers that can be explored. This is something that I’ve written really quickly but after I received a few asks about writing divorced!harry, I’ve finally decided to post this piece. I’m so crap with writing at the moment, so hopefully some of you enjoy this pure angst and I’ll get around to exploring the way the story can flow in its different stages. 

I actually kinda liked slipping in the part of y/n losing their identity to motherhood and definitely want to delve into that some more.

Just so everyone is aware this piece hasn’t been 100% proofed so any grammar, long sentence/short sentences etc were probably written in an erractive fashion (I suppose a bit like a though process during an argument etc). Sorry if this puts anyone off reading! x

~*~

You weren’t quite sure how you’dgotten where you were. This is closest the two been in weeks, maybe evenmonths, the most emotive the two of you had definitely been for months.

But still you stood, in the dim lightof your kitchen, listening to your husband sniffle against the cotton of yourpyjama shirt, which was damp with tears, sweat and everything in between.

His muffled pleas hidden by theclothing, his lips sometimes moving but you unable to decipher what he wassaying into your skin. Probably how much he loved you.

You stood somewhat rigid in front ofhim. Arms loose by your side as his hands gripped to your hips and stomach,pressing his face so tightly there that you were sure he would suffocate.

This was how it got sometimes withHarry. For weeks he wouldn’t say a thing and then he would either blow up andshare a temper with you that was far and few between, or his emotion would getthe better of him and his vulnerability overruled.

Marriage wasn’t easy, in fact nothingwas with Harry. But you couldn’t deny that it wasn’t worth it. Which was whyyou were still there, ten years down the line and three children in. Definitely,no more.

Six, three and 18 months was morethan enough for you to handle. And baby number three was never meant to be athing. Because baby three had never entered your plans, two children alwayswhat you wanted. But baby number three was so wanted by you both, especially asbaby number three was your little girl.

The little girl that you and Harrylonged for, not that you didn’t love your two boys.

But for you to handle and you tohandle alone was exactly how it felt.

And this time around he’d done acouple of things that pushed your buttons too far, like coming home later thanhe had originally planned to. Choosing to spend time entertaining pretty ladiesat The Nice Guy with Jeff and Tommy. Ladies that had just so happened to havebeen signed to Full Stop Management.

And you knew he wouldn’t cheat; itwasn’t in his nature but sometimes it was hard not to let your mind wander whenyou looked down at yourself covered in baby sick and housing hair that hadneeded a wash at least four days ago.

It was you, totally you. But hedidn’t help matters in the way he was nice and tried to please everyone.Everyone never really seemed to be your or your kiddies though. Everyone butyou and your kiddies even.

And you were a little bit bitter.

His life had sprung back time andtime again after each new addition where as yours seemed to slip further andfurther away.

His body had sprung back, regardlessof him putting on sympathy weight each time. He looked every inch the DILF onthe playground, cause to give credit where it was due when he returned home, hepicked up his end of the deal too.

He did the school run and the bathtime, even going as far as to run you a bath too every second night and givingyou a large glass of wine now that breast feeding was being phased out. BecauseHarry was always eager to stress that Mommy needed her time too.

And you knew standing here afterdelivery the blow of wanting a break, sometime apart, had been a shock to him.But to you it had been a long time coming.

He hadn’t been home for more than acouple of hours and he’d done the homework with your eldest in the kitchenwhile he sorted dinner. And he’d done the bath time too. He’d even offered todo the bedtime, but you were still a little too attached (some would say) toyour third. Because while she wasn’t in your plans to begin with you couldn’timagine life without her now and the thought of her being your final child wasproving hard to swallow. Even if you knew you were adamant that there wouldn’tbe a fourth.

He glowed when you returned to thekitchen, having snuck down to dim the lights in the kitchen and set up the twoplates of food for you to enjoy together at the breakfast bar.

Glasses of red shined under the dimlight and the setting was everything that would’ve once made you sigh dreamilyat him for being so thoughtful but now you wondered if he had done somethingwrong in Los Angeles.

Dinner was strained, small talk atbest. Your answers clipped and short. You finished your wine with ease, pouringyourself another while Harry let out an aggravated sigh.

 “What’s that for?” you said, lookingat him defiantly as you plucked up the glass and drank, holding his eyes theentire time.

“Barely touched your food,” hecommented, making your eyes drop to the quintessential English dinner.

“Not hungry.“

“Do you think you should?”

You raised your eyebrow at him inchallenge to his question. Daring him to go on, clarifywhat you’re saying.

“S’jus she still wakes in the night,“he started “and well, thought you still liked to soothe her in the night wi’theboob-“

“Well, Daddy’s here to save the day,”you sarcastically responded. “Time for you to pick up the slack, H”

You took a larger sip of your wineafter that, letting the delicate glass hit the countertop of you kitchen, fingerssliding up and down the stem of the glass as you tried to calm yourself.

“And how’d you suppose I do that; notlike I can grow tits in the next three or so hours is it?”

You gritted your teeth at his tone,pushing yourself off of the breakfast bar stool and leaving your glass on thekitchen island. Scooping up your plate you emptied the remainder of your foodin the bin and rinsed off your plate before stacking it into the dishwasher.

Harry sighed again; this time sadderthan the last. “Love,” he started, “just have your wine-“

“Don’t want it now,” you commented,snappily, shutting the dishwasher and reaching for the washcloth to wipe downthe kitchen work surfaces.

You felt his eyes on you as youmanically wiped everything down. Next his hand was coming down softly overyours, stopping it against the surface.

“Leave it, can be done in themorning.“

You snatched your hand away, “Won’thave time in the morning, will be doing everything bloody else won’t I?”

His jaw ticked as he closed his eyesand breathed deeply. “Oh, here he comes, thinking he knows what’s best. Beenback four hours and thinks he should have a parent of the year award.“

“Darlin-“ his tone was hard, tryingto get you to stop your triad before you could get any worse.

“Don’t ‘darlin’ me, Harry-“ you shook your head at him. “You swan in andout of this house like you’re the Queen of Sheba and then you’re back to do acouple of hours of your Daddy shift and apparently everyone should listen toyou- “

You paused, staring at him watchingthe way he ran his tongue over the front of his teeth as he clenched his jawagain.

“And I wouldn’t worry about thinkingabout my drinking. Weren’t so concerned when you were lording it up in The NiceGuy four nights ago as if you weren’t a Dad of three with a wife at home.“

His eyes flashed at you now, his bodyjust as pent up as yours.

“S’tha what this is about-“

“That’s just the fuckin’ cherry-“ youseethed. Cause it really was only the beginning.

“Is it?” He was harsh with hisquestion, nostrils flared. “Cause if you’re insinuating what I think you are I’dhave a long hard think before you actually say it-“

“Is that you threatening me?” Youasked, eyes dark as they held his. “What if I don’t have a long hard think-“

His clenched his jaw as he kept hiseyes on you. You laughed harshly, just the one “ha!”, before you said, “Youknow what I think I will finish that glass of wine, might have the whole bottleand fuck it.“

He shook his head, closing his eyesand pinching the bridge of his nose as his exhausted body fell slightly againstthe cupboards behind him.

You busied yourself with turn aroundto the island and keeping your back facing him as you sipped at your largeglass of wine and empty the rest of the bottle into the glass.

His feet against the wood flooringlet you know that he was fidgeting behind you, an almost audible swallow thenext thing you heard from him before he asked, softer than you thought hewould, “What’s brought this on?”

“It appears your wife has hadenough.“

“I’d quite like my wife to come backto me and talk to me.“

“Well your wife doesn’t really wantto be in the same house as you right now-“

He looked at you as he noticed the wayyou turned around to look at him, defiant and quite frankly fed up.

“And you don’t get to decide what your wifedoes when you think it’s okay to leave your familya week longer than you originally pencilled in just because you want a break from the break thatyou’re already on in a sunny country re-recording singles that didn’t need re-recordingbut you’re too much of a peoplepleaser that you listened to thetalking heads at your label in too much depth.“

“Nah they’re just the thing keeping aroof over your head but fuck them, right? And fuck me too, yeah?”

That one stung.

That one was too much of a low blowbecause you were successful in your own right. Were you a multimillionaire? No.But your name was also on the deeds of this house just as much as his were. Healways made it clear what was his was yours. You did the hard job of making thehouse a home and gave him the family he had always dreamed of. He said so himself. 

“Fuck you-“

“S’wha I just said, fuck me!“

The two of you stood in the kitchen,staring at each other nostrils flaring and chests heaving as you breathedheavily. Pent up anger as plain as day to see before you slowly reached forwardand took a slow sip of your wine, watching Harry rest his hands against thecounter top and bow his head.

“God, you piss me off so much,” hemumbled under his breath, shoulders pinched high and taut.

“I piss you off,” you wereincredulous, voice light however in tone. “You should be me, mate. If only Icould aimlessly come and go as I please out of this place and still have a lifethat doesn’t revolve around smelling of baby sick and not recognising who I seein the mirror. Yeah, I’m sure I’d be pissed off too. S’a hard life, that.”

You took another swig of your wine, alonger pull this time from the glass and set it abruptly onto the kitchencounter. You saw the way his head rolled up to look at you, taking in yourwords and letting his eyes roll over your being.

You didn’t dare look at him, knowinghe’d see straight through your anger for what it really was. Sadness.Vulnerability. Lost and void.

He would see the way you had barelyleft the house through the entirety of your last post-partum weeks with BabyGirl Styles. Outside of baby groups and hospital check-ups, you didn’t go outfor time with the girls, or even time for just yourself.

“You don’t recognise yourself in themirror?” He questioned, repeating your words back to you, in a solemn tone thatmatched the way you felt about them.

You tutted, sipping at your wineagain as he looked up at you from under his brow.

“Don’t do that-“

“Stop telling me what to do.“

You watched him breathe deeply as yousnapped at him again.

“Don’t dismiss your feelings-“

“What? Like you do? Beingphotographed in LA with girls half my size, half my age-“ you jutted out yourlips in question to his comment.

You had him there, even if it wasstrictly business. A picture, regardless of what was said, did not tell athousand words. And even if it did, they were most likely wrong.

“I tell you every day I love you,”you clenched your jaw at his words. “How beautiful you are, how much of a-“

“How much of a great Mum I am-“ youcut in, tone clipped and reeking of bitterness.

“S’not a bad thing-“

“Is it not?” You challenged. “Whatabout how great of a person I am? How proud you are of me? Not me as a Mum,just me. Of the client I managed to get in the bag last week on the middle ofthis very kitchen, with your daughter attached to my breast and your other twochildren wreaking havoc in our living room. Me. While you were sat in someswanky booth in The Nice Guy.“

His sad eyes stared at you, blinkingslowly but letting you speak.

“No frills, no pomp and pageantry. Nobar tab paid for by Full Stop Management to help me close the deal. Noexpensive outfit or brass rings of rubbing shoulders with the right people,just raw talent, intellect and wit.”

Harry watched the way you easilyspewed out words that had been pushed down for far too long. He could tell inthe way that you eloquently, regardless of being angry, relayed them to him.

“Just me. Greasy hair and sickstained clothes. Stood where you’re standing now. Without my husband in so muchas my periphery.”

You watched as he nodded. No wayshunning anything that you said as you voice cracked and you confirmed, “Justme.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say I don’t need you,”you breathed, eyes dropping from his. “I don’t even know if want you,” you feltyour bottom lip quiver at your confession, more so when you saw the way panicfilled Harry’s features when you did look back over at him.

“Darling- don’t be like this- stop-“his voice desperate to cut in and change the path that the conversation wastaking.

“I can do this on my own you know-“

“No one is disputing that-“ hehastily walked around the kitchen island. “I’m not disputing that at all-“

“I’ve accomplished a lot- I’ve helpedyou accomplish a lot too-

“No one knows that more than me,” hecupped your face, fiercely scanning your features. “Behind every great man, eh?”

“I used to be beside you.“

His face fell at the emptiness ofyour tone.

“You are beside me.” The conviction behind his voice was enough for you as you shook your head. 

“You know I’m not. I’m not in thebooth next to you at The Nice Guy, I’m not at the side of stage. I’m not evenbeside you in bed half of the time because we’re like passing ships in thenight-“

That or your sleeping with yourmiddle son in his tiny bed because he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of sleepingall the way through the night. If he’s not wedged in between you and Harry inyour bedroom, that is.

“I’ve gone so long with not havingyou around, I’ve forgotten what’s it’s like to have you and when I do…” youswallowed as you trailed off.

“When you do, what?” He goaded, aglutton for punishment and self-depreciation. He swallowed thickly. “Go on, say it if you’re gonna say it.”

“And when I do have you around, Idon’t want you.” You felt your face crumble as you stepped out of his touch. “I don’t want you here, I don’t want you around me- I don’t-“

You felt your words cut of as theygot lodged in your throat, blurring vision just about able to make out themoment Harry cracked as he stood opposite you in the kitchen. HIs own face crumbling as his bottom lip tremmbled from your honest confession.

“I find myself thinking aboutdivorcing you all the time.”

The words just keep leaving you.Watching the way his despair got worse and worse in front of you.

“And sometimes I hate myself becauseI think about packing everything up when you’re gone and hitting you where itreally hurts. Letting you come home to an empty house.”

The thud of his knees falling thefloor was next, his face pushing tightly into your stomach as you felt himcling to you.

“And every time then scenario getsmore and more nasty. And I hate myself for it because I’m so fucking bitter atthe way you’ve just been able to carry on like nothing has fucking changed andeverything fucking has so why,” yougrowled “why has it not changed for you? Huh? Why!?” You hit and push at hisshoulders, Harry’s body barely jostling from you feeble - but you sure they’refilled with a lot of forcefrom your end, you’re just that tired- attempts intrying to push him off you.

“So maybe I need to make it changefor you, for you to realise the change for me,” you’re despondent as you talk,body stoic now as your limbs hang loosely beside your body. Harry’s head is pressed closer to your skin, mumbling pleas that go unnoticed.

“I want a divorce.”

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Six

Table of Content or Part Forty-Five

Wattpad

Words: 3K

Warning(s): Explicit language, sexual situations, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of abuse

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"You bailed! You bailed on rehab, you bailed on sobriety and you bailed on me!" I throw at Nikki.

My shaky hand pushes the door of the guest bedroom open, seeing the outline of Nikki's body, in the dark, spread across the mattress on top of the comforter, probably reeling on a high.

I carefully step inside to the bed, my hand trailing over his bare chest.

He looks at me hazily.

"I've never bailed on you, Vivian!" He argues. "I have never--"

"I wanted to do this to fix our relationship, to fix us, and I was counting on you being sober in order to do so successfully and you broke out of rehab and loaded up the same night!" I bark. "How the hell can we fix--"

"--What's the point of therapy if you refuse to follow instructions she gives us?!" He points to Dr. Strun as she watches us go back and forth. "She gave us a rule of thirty days of no communication, no contact, unless it's an emergency, and no intimacy and I thought that would be pretty easy for you because you were down my throat about doing everything we could to make the work but no! We get home and twelve hours later you were like a fucking nymphomaniac all the sudden!"

On day one of therapy, Dr. Strun immediately recognized we needed a reset button, and so our "no contact" rule was set for one month. And if we failed to follow the rule, we started back at day 1. Even if the slip up were to occur on day 27.

I'd be lying if I said I followed the rule better than Nikki did.

"Because I miss you!" I tell him.

He gives out a sigh, knowing why I'm in here, about to blow our third shot at attempting no contact in the past week.

"I'm right here!" He says back, pointing to himself.

"You haven't been here since 1983!" I declare.

I gently kiss him, and his hand runs over my thigh, pulling me onto him.

"Okay, calm down." Dr. Strun says to us calmly, the two of us taking deep breaths. "Vivian, what do you mean by that?" She asks me.

I sit back down on the couch in her small office and sigh, holding back tears.

"He started heroin in 1983." I explain. "And he's slowly lost who he is in the past three years as his addiction has gotten worse."

"How does he act when he's under the influence?"

"Confusing. One minute he's having a good time, laughing and smiling and the next minute he's mean and abrasive to anyone who breaths the wrong way." I explain.

"And what was he like before his addiction?"

I peel my tshirt off, my chest against his as our tongues move together, his fingers in the ends of my hair as my hands fumble to get his pants undone and my panties off before he rolls onto me.

"Frustrating, aggravating, obnoxious, but it was always out of fun, easy to talk to, pretty understanding, nice to be around, caring..." I say a few things and she nods, and her eyes flicker to Nikki.

"How do Vivian's words make you feel, Nikki?"

"Like she's punishing me for being exactly what she married." He tells her.

"How the hell am I punish--"

"--Vivian, if you would please save your words for a minute, I want to hear what Nikki has to say, please." Dr. Strun says and I keep my mouth shut and nod compliantly. "Nikki?" She nods in encouragement and he sighs.

I'm hooking my legs around his hips, pulling him into me with each thrust, my fingers lacing through his thick black hair as his teeth tug at my lip.

"When we first got together she knew I drank and did drugs and she still wanted to be with me. When she agreed to marry me she knew I drank and did drugs. When we got married she knew I drank and did drugs but she suddenly started acting weird and distant because I incorporated smack into my routine and then aired out our issues in front of our friends and now blames our relationship issues on drugs, which is exactly what I've been doing since before we met." He laughs humorlessly. "And I know coke and heroin effect people differently because one's a stimulant and one's a depressant but if she married me knowing I do drugs, she should have considered the possibility I would eventually try heroin."

"Vivian?" Strun allows me to talk now.

My back arches, my body on edge as he utters "fuck" under his breath, his forehead against mine as I tighten around him.

"You told me you were only smoking heroin for your injured shoulder and then you would put it down. The fact you ended up shooting it and hid it from me for eight more months just proves you knew you weren't suppose to be doing it. So there is no 'she married me knowing...' because no, I did not know you would be so stupid as to think you could start something as additive as junk and then think you could put it down without professional help. I was obviously so very wro--"

"If anyone should be whining about not knowing they married a monster, it's me, because I didn't know I was marrying a physically abusive psycho--" He harshly interrupts me and my eyes bug at Dr. Strun raises her brows.

"I'm not abusive!" I argue, standing up.

"--So I'm sorry if I turn to heroin to cope with your outbursts!"

I try to catch my breath as I recover from my orgasm, my body bathing in euphoria as Nikki licks up a little drop of sweat running down my neck, continuing to fuck me.

"I abuse you?! All you know how to do anymore is beat me down, Nikki!"

He moves to pull out of me but I roll us over again, sinking down onto him, and he grabs at my hips and thrusts up into me, warmth spreading through me as he finishes into me.

"Woah, woah, woah!" He stands next, fury in his gaze. "I have never, ever, hit you, Vivian Sixx."

It was true, the only times he would put his hands on me out of anger was to wrap his hand around my throat, or my wrists or my shoulders, and despite his temper, he wouldn't really hurt me, it was just to prove a point, but I was trying to justify my abusive tendencies like he was trying to justify his drug addiction.

"Okay." Strun starts, probably afraid she's going to have to separate us like mad dogs fighting. "Firstly, there are different forms of abuse other than physical." She informs us. "There's sexual, emotional, economic and psychological. Now, Nikki, is Vivian actually physically harming you? Because I am required by the state of California to report domestic abuse to authorities." She tells him. "Which can result in your wife being arrested."

He stares at me, actually weighing his options before scoffing a little.

"No." He shakes his head. "She doesn't physically harm me. She just depletes me."

He sits down and I rub my lips together and wipe the tear that's dared to fall down my face.

"Well, that makes both of us." I mumble and he rolls his jaw.

"Bob warned me I was getting my degree's worth with you two, but I wasn't quiet expecting this." She tells us, tiredly. "I believe you both have incredibly reckless and unhealthy coping skills that have been manifested through your co-dependent relationship. You've both made it very clear early in these sessions that you can't live with or without one another and I personally deem the fact you," she nods towards me. "Solely depend on him and have since you were seventeen years old, and he use to depend on you but now drugs have taken your place and you don't know how to handle that reality so you lash out with abuse. And you," she now looks at Nikki. "Have deep rooted issues far beyond how Vivian treats you that are causing you to feel the need to turn to your addictions. She is not the reason you're on heroin, she's just an obvious choice cover-up that you lie to yourself with to avoid reflection on your life before you even met her."

Nikki and I don't say a word.

"How many days would you say it will take to completely reset things between you two?" She asks me.

"I don't think we need to be separated." I admit. "Just teach us a way to get along with each other, that doesn't require either of us to just bite our tongues and take shit from the other person, and we'll be on our way." I reply and has raises a brow and looks to Nikki.

"How long?" She asks him, he looks at me, then at her, sighing.

"Ninety days, maybe more?" He tells her and my eyes widen.

"Are you kidding me?" I chuckle although it's not funny. "Three months of not even acknowledging each other?"

"I think it's a fair amount of time." Dr. Strun agrees with him.

"Yeah, for him to do whatever the fuck he wants without having to answer to me for it." I shoot back.

"Vivian, the more you cling to him, the more he clings to his escape. I want both of you in a healthy place mentally, physically, and emotionally. That could start with you learning to be independent."

"I'm sorry, are you insinuating I'm as bad for my husband as heroin is?" I snap and she exhales.

"I'm saying, it typically takes ninety days to overcome addiction. You are addicted to your husband. You can't help him get sober if you aren't sober yourself. Ninety days of no contact, except this time we'll take it a step further. If one of you is able to get out of the house and stay with a friend for the duration of the separation, I suggest you do so."

"Nikki, we're not doing this." I shake my head, panic filling me as tears are now streaming down my face. "Nikki, please."

"You wanted to fix this. We're fixing it." Is all he says before I'm leaving her office as fast as I can to throw up as a wave of dread joins in with the panic.

I decided I'd be the one to leave the house, and ended up staying with...

"Mi casa es su casa." Steven tells me, smiling big behind his hat that's holding a can of beer on either side of his head, motioning me into their apartment. "The bedroom is your's, obviously, and Duff's sprayed it down again with sanitizing spray, so you're good." He explains.

"Thanks." I mumble, stepping into the bedroom with the mattress on the floor, sitting my suitcase down.

"So, are you guys separating?" He asks me cautiously.

"I don't know what we're doing." I confess, emotionally drained. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"It's only 6:00, Viv. The party hasn't even started."

"I'm all partied out, Stevie. Maybe I'll feel better in a couple days, I just really wanna sleep right now."

"Oh, okay...lemme know if you need anything." He tells me and I nod before he shuts the door.

I wake up after a few hours, hearing laughter flutter through the door from the living room, and I sit up, stretching, before switching on the lamp on the floor so I can see to get my pill bottle out of my purse.

My purse isn't in here, and I sigh at the idea of having to speak or see anybody else.

I take a breath and convince myself to go get my purse from out of the living room.

Opening the door, I'm met with Tansy, Duff, Mandy, Steven, Slash, Slash's fucking snake, Izzy, and a couple girls I've never seen before and probably won't ever see again.

They all go quiet when they see me. I'm probably one hell of a sight to behold: mascara dripped cheeks, eyes puffy and nearly swollen shut from crying, tangled hair, and a bright red nose with dried snot clinging to it.

"Hey, Vi--"

"--Shut up, Izzy." I cut him short the one time he isn't saying something to purposefully aggravate me. "Where's Axl? I need someone to scream at." I add, digging in my purse and opening up my pill bottle.

"Care to share?" One of the girls next to Slash asks, reaching her hand out.

"It's fucking antidepressant." I tell her and her face falls. "I need to pee." I say next.

"Uh, Axl's in the shower." Steven informs me.

"Great."

I step to the bathroom, opening the door.

"Hurry up, I need to piss." I yell over the sound of the water.

"There's a sink." He replies.

"I'm not using the sink."

"Well then hold it!"

I roll my eyes and snatch the curtain back, seeing a naked Axl in all his glory.

"It's not my fault you sickos completely uprooted your freaking toilet and I refuse to squat over a sink."

He just looks at me, completely unamused and probably considering strangling me.

"You have ten seconds." He steps out of the shower, and I take my pants and panties off, carefully stepping into the shower but standing at the very back and pulling my shirt up to avoid getting it wet before pulling the curtain closed. "One, two, three--"

"You're supposed to count by Mississippis." I snap and he groans.

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four miss--what're you doing?" He asks me as I toss my shirt and bra over rod of the shower curtain.

"Getting a shower."

"I thought you said you just had to piss?!"

"I did, and now I'm getting a shower." I tell him, wetting my hair.

"Well then I'm finishing mine!"

"I don't care!" I blare back and the curtain opens and he spitefully climbs back in, seething, and I grin.

"I'm not living with you for three months." He states, pointing his finger in my face.

"Switch." I say, and he shuffles past me so he can stand under the water and I can put shampoo in my hair. "Well then tell Nikki to stop being a little bitch. The only reason he wants to seperate is so he can spend time doing whatever he wants without hearing my nagging."

"So he sends you to us so we can hear it for ninety days?" He snaps.

"Oh, see, I told him I was staying with Vince and Sharise." I explain.

"...And what happens when he finds out you're staying with five guys?"

"He wanted to get rid of me for a few months. He's rid of me." I shrug. "Switch."

I rinse the shampoo from my hair as he runs conditioner through his.

"So, 'no contact' really means..."

"Ninety days of no communication, contact and intimacy."

"So you can't have sex for three months?"

"Nope."

"Dear God you're gonna be she-satan by the time this is over." He grumbles.

"Nah, Nikki can't go three months without pussy. He'll come find me in, like, eight days."

"Or he'll get it from someone else." He scoffs before realizing what he said.

"And I'm done." I flatly let out, not even bothering to put conditioner in my hair or finish bathing before getting out of the shower.

"Viv, I didn't mean--"

"--It's fine." I wrap their one towel around myself and shut the bathroom door as I leave.

Everyone gives me an odd look as I walk by them, quickly putting together I was just in the shower with Axl, but I do hope they know I'd rather sew my vulva together than ever fuck Axl Rose.

I shut myself in the bedroom, putting a hand over my mouth as a sob tries to escape my throat.

The next month was spent slowly deteriorating. I wallowed in depression, neglecting to take my Nardil for a few days at a time without realizing my antidepressant couldn't work if I wasn't taking my medication the way I was supposed to, even if I did just miss a couple days between each dose.

I tried to play like I was okay but the guys knew I was really down.

Steven got into the habit of sleeping with me so I wouldn't be alone, and I could tell what nights he hung out with Nikki because he would smell like our house.

By then Nikki knew I was staying with them, but at that point, unbeknownst to me, he'd begun to find solace for my absence in that of heroin, crack-cocaine and Vanity...or what I like to call "the trifecta that damn near killed me before it was all said and done."

"C'mon, Viv, it'll be fun." Stevie nudges me and I roll over in my bed and look at him, Tansy and Duff.

"What's the point of going out for my wedding anniversary when my husband can't celebrate it with me?"

"I talked to Tommy and they're celebrating it tonight. You should, too." Tansy says.

"I don't know..." I go on. "It just seems wrong."

"You're on a healthy break from one another. Not divorced. C'mon, babe, you gotta get outta this room." Steven points out.

"Fine. We can order pizza and celebrate in the living room." I state.

"No..." Duff chuckles, shaking his head. "...Just trust us, Viv. We're gonna have a good time."

I look at the three of them, going back and forth with myself.

"Fine." I let out a sigh. "Let's go out."

And so began our hellacious, but very fun, night out, that ended in the Los Angeles Police Department.

[bgn846]

Worthy Chapter 2: Adjusting FFXV A/B/O Promnis

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Ignis Scientia was true to his word and had arranged for a discrete transport back to Niflheim for Prompto.  The only catch was he would have to travel the day after the royal banquet. The blond would have to remain in Noctis’ quarters until that time.  With this plan came the realization that Prompto would have to spend the night, twice, in an unfamiliar place.

 He was nervous at first when the idea was brought up.  Ignis had called Noct right after they had eaten dinner to tell him the news, since he was still in meetings.  The prince of Lucis seemed to take it in stride and announced quite casually that they were roomies for a few days.

 Prompto was secretly grateful that Noct was nice and a beta.  He didn’t know what would have happened if he had to share space with an alpha.  He was nineteen and really needed to get over his fear, but it was easier said than done.  Alphas scared the shit out of him. Not having had a single good alpha experience until earlier that day with Scientia, Prompto had been avoiding them most of his life.

 His mother was a beta, as had been the king.  The astrals clearly wanted to turn the tables, and his step-father had produced a litany of alphas in his wake.  His first wife must have been pregnant for years, and she was guilty of the worst of the bunch. Five sons, all alphas, and they were all dicks.   She died due to complications of the fifth birth. Wife number two came along and popped out three more alphas. She requested a divorce when her youngest was barely weaned.   She cited difficulties with the eldest sons as the issue.

 Wife number three managed to survive a little longer. She produced four more alphas to the king and unfortunately was caught cheating.  The separation was quick, and Prompto sees her around visiting her sons from time to time. The king never wished to bar her from her children.

 Wife number four, Prompto’s mother, met the king at a party, and it was love at first sight.  They were able to spend several happy years together, and the king accepted her only son without question.   Prompto had been fourteen when they married.

 The king’s death was due to illness, and it shook his mother terribly when he passed.  She remained strong for her son and carried on in the role of queen for the people. The general populous had grown to like her, and his step-brothers knew if they kicked her out bad press would follow.    

 So here he was, two years later, and still no further up the line to the throne.  If anything, after the king’s death, his chances had gotten worse. Thinking about his lack of a future was depressing.   If only he’d been born an alpha. Then maybe he could have stood a chance.

 Prompto realized he was spacing out again when Noct sighed loudly and cleared his throat.

 “You okay over there?  I know this is all kinda weird.”

 “Huh? Oh, I’m fine. I’m just thinking about stupid stuff.”

 “Judging by your facial expression, it didn’t look stupid.”

 The blond laughed nervously. He wasn’t used to people actually talking      to     him.  His mother didn’t count. She never pushed for fear of upsetting him.  “I’m okay really.”

 “Fine, if you say so.  How late do you want to stay up?  I’ve got lots more games we could play, or if you would rather be left alone, I get that.  This must all be very overwhelming,” Noct replied.

 Prompto bit his lips trying to think of a response.  Yes, he was overwhelmed, but the prince didn’t contribute to that feeling.  It was being in a new place with the constant fear of running into people he didn’t know that worried him the most. “I don’t need to be left alone; it helps to be with someone.” He offered softly.  “I’m glad you’re not an alpha.”

 “Well, you’d be one of the few to admit that.  Most people seem to think royalty should be an alpha.  I have no idea how you deal with it, since you’re an omega.”

 “No one notices me, so not many people talk about it.”

 Noct didn’t respond right away, but looked confused for a moment.  “Do you not give them a chance to notice you? Do you hide instead?”

 Prompto nodded slowly.  “It’s easier that way.”

 “Huh, interesting.”  Noct pondered.

 It was obvious that there was more on the prince’s mind, but he chose not to say anything else.  Prompto could only assume he’d realized that their lives were completely opposite. Picking up the game controller once more, he smiled, hoping Noct would understand.  The rest of the evening progressed until Prompto passed out on the sofa.

    --

 Opening the door to the suite, Gladio immediately noticed the distinct smell of omega.  Ignis had been correct: the young Niflheimian prince had a unique scent. He’d been briefed earlier that morning by the advisor on how to handle the newcomer.  Apparently, he suffered from a severe fear of alphas.

 Ignis was extremely busy setting up the banquet for later that evening, so he’d sent Gladio to collect Noct.  However, he was given strict instructions not to approach Prompto unless he was comfortable first. As Gladio trudged into the main room, he realized this would be a difficult request.  The two princes’ had clearly stayed up far too late and had fallen asleep in the living room.

 Noct was sprawled out over a large armchair and snoring lightly.  He could literally fall asleep anywhere. Prince Prompto seemed more relaxed and was sleeping on the sofa.  The shield seriously debated leaving the suite and calling Noct on his cell phone. There was no way he was going to be able to wake Noct up without disturbing Prince Prompto.

 Secretly, he knew his charge wouldn’t rouse from a simple phone call, so he had no choice but to go the old fashioned route.  Taking a deep breath and focusing on releasing calming pheromones, he slowly walked over to Noct. Sitting down on the coffee table in front of Noct, he reached out and shook the sleeping prince by his shoulders.

 “Noooooo,” Noct groaned.  “Five more hours.” He pleaded.

 “Don’t you mean five more minutes, princess?” Gladio snickered.

 “NO!” he grumbled trying to sleep again.

 “Come on. Ignis needs you to get up so you can go rehearse your speech and do other royal bullshit.”

 “Why me?”  Noct lamented.

 “You know I’m more than willing to carry you to your next appointment in yesterday’s clothes, I’m not Ignis,” Gladio offered with a smirk.   He was about to add more when a quiet yelp from behind him caught his attention. Their guest had most likely woken up, but he didn’t dare look to confirm it.  Judging by the sudden change in the omegas scent, he was scared.

 Noct made an attempt to sit up fully.   “Gladio, ya know it would be easier to wake up if you weren’t pumping out such a relaxing scent right now.”  The dark haired prince yawned loudly and managed to pry his eyes open. “What gives?”

 Gladio looked at Noct and rolled his eyes.  “Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?” he asked instead of verbally berating the prince for his lack of awareness.  He truly was a smart man, but sometimes he missed the painfully obvious.

 “Huh? Oh, Prompto, yeah sure.”  Noct seemed to finally take in the state of his guest and threw a puzzled look over Glaido’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay? What’s the matter?”

 The strangled noise that came as a reply was heartbreaking.  The poor guy was terrified. Gladio still hadn’t turned around fully and was waiting for Noct to sort the young prince out.  Opting to keep his body relaxed and his eyes down cast, he waited for Prompto’s scent to change.

 “This is just my shield, Gladio.  He won’t hurt you. It’s okay.” Noct didn’t wait for a response this time and quickly clambered out of the chair, stumbling over Gladio in the process.  “I promise he’s really good at keeping princes alive. You have nothing to worry about.”

 Finally, Prompto uttered a response he could actually hear.  “O—Okay.”

 Gladio took this small utterance as permission to finally face the Prince.  “Highness, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Gladiolus Amicitia, shield to prince Noctis.”

 “Hi,” was all the blond haired man managed to squeak.  His bright blue eyes were huge and threatening to bulge out of his head.   Then, as if something suddenly distracted him, he furrowed his brow. “You keep mentioning a shield, but you’re not carrying one.”

 Gladio answered before Noct could.  “I act as his bodyguard, so it’s more of a metaphorical shield.”    

 “Why wasn’t Lord Amicitia with you yesterday when you found me?” Prompto blurted.

 Noct started turning a few shades of pink and looked away.

 “Sometimes he ignores the rules and sneaks out.  From the sounds of it, I may need to start training you, too, if this one managed to subdue you.”

 Noct smirked and then frowned.  “Hey! What are you insinuating?”  

  A small giggle broke the tension, and Prompto quickly covered his mouth to try and hide his smile.

 “He made fun of you, too!” Noct exclaimed.

 “True, but I’ve not had training, so I believe the insult is worse for you.”        

 Looking directly at Prompto, the shield nodded in agreement. “Highness, please feel free to call me Gladio. Lord Amicitia is my father's’ title.”

 “He’s the king's bodyguard, right?” Prompto asked quickly.

 “Correct. My family has been protecting the Lucis Caelums for generations.”

 “That is so amazing that you get a bodyguard,” Prompto mused.

 “You don’t have a personal guard back home?”  Noct asked incredulously. “I would have thought you being an omega meant you’d get extra protection.”  Prompto stayed silent and looked at the floor. “Uh – damn, that sucks.” Noct sighed.

 “I’m afraid I have to steal Noct away for a few hours.  Will you be alright in the suite by yourself?” Gladio asked.

 “I think so. No one else new will come in, correct?”

 “That’s correct, Highness. I do have a trusted beta guard on duty nearby, and I will give you his phone number.  If anything urgent comes up, call him and he’ll help you until we get back,” Gladio announced.

 “What’s their name?” Prompto asked slowly.  “They won’t come in here unless I ask, right?”

 “His name is Nyx, and no, he won’t come in unless you ask.  He’s patrolling this wing, so he won’t be in front of the door.  He’s been told to keep an eye on the corridor and make sure no one disturbs you.”

 “What should I do if someone knocks on the door?”

 “Ignore it.  If you sense danger, hide and call Nyx.”

 The last statement seemed to calm the fair haired prince. “Ok, I can handle that. Will you all be returning for lunch?”

 “No guarantees.  Ignis likes to keep a tight schedule.  I will check with him and get a message to you one way or another.”

 “I have Noctis’ phone number,  so he can text me.”

 “I told you a bunch of times already, it’s alright to call me Noct.”  Prompto bobbed his head in response and smiled.

 Gladio stood up and gave a slight bow to Prompto before walking towards the door.  “I’ll wait outside for you, Noct.” He continued on his way and went to seek out Nyx with an update.  Once he was confident all was well, Gladio directed his sleepy prince towards his next meeting.

   --

     “One more meeting to go, highness, and then you are done for the day.” Ignis sighed.  “I’ve worked to clear your schedule for the afternoon, so you can rest before the banquet.”

 “Good, Prompto and I can play more video games together.  He likes all the same ones I do.”

 “Do remember you need to rehearse your speech. Don’t waste away the entire afternoon gaming.”

 “Yeah, I know, but it’s nice to have someone around my age who likes the same stuff.  I don’t know how he doesn’t go crazy at home. It sounds like he’s got nobody to hang out with besides his mom.” Noct paused with a frown.  “I’m not knocking that. It’s nice she’s there for him, but he’s alone the rest of time. I have you and Gladio, but he’s stuck there in a sea of stupid alphas. No offence, but his step brothers sound like grade A assholes.”

 Ignis went quiet suddenly.  Noct had enough issues being a beta prince; he could only imagine the hardships Prompto must endure.  “Did you happen to figure out his real reason for visiting?”

 “No, I tried to pry lightly, but he seemed unwilling to talk about it.  I know that sightseeing bullshit was a lie. I can’t figure out what would be worth all the trouble he went through to get here.”

 “Perhaps in time he will tell us.  Do you think you will try and stay in touch once he returns home?”

 Noct shook his head and threw a look at Ignis.  “Who do you think I’ve been texting all morning?”

 “Though I’m upset at your lack of manners during meetings, I will commend your effort at making a new friend.”

 The final meeting of the day was blessedly canceled, and the trio made their way back to Noct’s royal chambers.  Ignis spotted Nyx nearby when they approached and gave a discreet nod for his help. The advisor had selected Nyx specifically due to his dynamic and good natured attitude.  The man also knew how to keep a secret, and that was essential.

 “You did warn him that Gladio and I were both coming, correct?” Ignis asked as he went to unlock the door.

 “Yeah, he knows. Want me to go in first?”

 Ignis didn’t answer but pushed the door open and allowed Noct to slip past him.  “Gladio, do remember to give Prompto his personal space.”

 “I have been through diverse dynamics training Iggy.  I’m not an animal. I did really well this morning. You would’ve been proud.”

 “That fact that I let you come alone should have been indication enough that I trust you explicitly,”  Ignis calmly offered. Gladio smiled, and if he puffed up his chest slightly, Ignis chose not to comment.      

 When they walked into the living room, both princes were talking a mile a minute.  Prompto had found a hidden level in a game they’d played the night before. Noct was regaling him with tales of the boring council meeting he’d had to endure.  

 “Two peas in pod, huh?” Gladio admitted when he noticed the exchange.

 Ignis shook his head but still smiled at the sight.  “I’ll be in the kitchen preparing lunch if you need me.”  Gladio nodded but ended up following him in with an excuse of not being able get a word in edgewise.  The two younger men had tuned out the Eos around them.

 He was halfway through cutting a sandwich when Gladio piped up again. “Why are you taking extra care with prince Prompto?”

 “Hmmm, whatever do you mean?”

 “I’ve never seen you so hyper focused on someone else’s well being aside from Noct in a long time.”

 “I care about others,” Ignis huffed with a pout.

 “Shit.” Gladio grumbled.  “Not what I meant. Uh – how do I put this – you have been treating him exactly like Noct.”

 That made him pause.  Had he really been doing that? “I merely wish to ensure his safety since he’s here unaccompanied.  I wouldn’t want to have to face his mother should something happen.”

 Gladio titled his head in thought.  “I get that, and if he stays in touch with Noct once he’s back home, then you can make sure he’s doing okay.”

 Ignis was struck with an odd thought after Gladio stopped talking.  Why would he care about this strange omega so much? They’d barely spoken more than few sentences since he’d arrived yesterday.   However, he felt drawn to the blond. Not really wanting to blame base dynamic chemistry, Ignis shooed the idea away and finished fixing lunch.

 Thankfully, lunch was an easy affair, despite a slightly rocky start.  Prince Prompto had been visibly nervous to be at the table with Gladio and himself.  For once, Noct’s complete lack of tact actually helped. He’d picked up right away that his new friend was behaving differently in front of his retainers, so the dark-haired prince simply announced that his alpha friends didn’t bite.

 Gladio had to work hard to stifle a laugh, which unexpectedly set Prompto off in a giggle.  The tension was broken and lunch continued. Noct, of course, chose to ignore Ignis’ piercing gaze from across the table.  Years of etiquette training, and he throws it away in the blink of an eye.

 Lunch was soon over and more work beckoned, as Ignis had to verify things were getting done properly for the banquet.   He quickly said his goodbyes and slipped out to return to work. However, he couldn’t seem to shake the empty feeling he had once he’d left the suite.  Was it even possible for an omega to make someone feel this way? He had no time to dwell on the thought, since he had a banquet to coordinate.

  --  

   “You sure you’ll be okay?” Noct asked for a third time.

 “Yes, I’ll be fine.” Prompto sighed.  “You said that beta soldier was stationed nearby again, right?”

 “Yep, Nyx. He’s really nice, and he will be available if you need him right away.”

 Prompto nodded and leaned into the sofa cushion to rest his head. “How long will you have to stay?”

 “Ugh, I have to make a speech at around eight, and then Iggy will want me to meet and greet.  Blech, I detest talking to total snots.”

 “Hopefully you won’t have to talk to my step-brothers too much.  Alban is only there to meet chicks.”

 Noct laughed at the admission.  “I hope he realizes that the women that attend these functions are horrible.  All they want is your money and title. Iggy has to beat them off with a stick sometimes if they come after me.”

 “That’s really nice that you have Scientia to do that for you.”

 “You can call him Ignis. He wouldn’t mind.  I’m sure of it, actually, since he’d been nothing but super nice to you.”

 “What do you mean?” Prompto asked.

 “He’s been treating you better than me!  Asking Nyx to do guard duty is huge. The man’s a decorated, high-ranking soldier; he graduated past guarding a door a long time ago.   Iggy has also been controlling his scent around you. Gladio, too, but I think Iggy told him to do that,” Noct offered.

 “Really?” The blond mumbled. “Those are good things, though, right?”

 “Yeah, totally. It just means he likes you is all.”

 “I’m only an omega. There’s no reason for him to do any of that.  He’s being nice, because you would get mad otherwise.”

 Noct narrowed his eyes at Prompto.  “Nah, I know Iggy, and he wouldn’t act like without a good reason.  I’m pretty sure I’m not the reason.”

 “Oh.” Prompto wasn’t sure what to think of that information.   What did Noct mean by ‘like’? He knew the prince had to leave soon, but he wished he could go with him and see all the people dressed up. “Will you have your phone?” He asked finally.

 “Yeah, I’ll send you pictures when I can.  There are always some really funny people wandering around.”

 “Is it okay to use the kitchen when I get hungry later?” Prompto asked when Noct stood up to retrieve his shoes.

 “Oh, I almost forgot Iggy’s got dinner being delivered for you. It will be the same catering as the banquet, so you get to taste the food.   See! Yet another nice thing my advisor has done for you!” Noct exclaimed.

 “Will I have to talk to someone for the food?” Prompto asked nervously.

 “Nah, the dumbwaiter in the kitchen will buzz, and you can go collect it.  It only fits a tray of food, so you’ll be safe.”

 The blond relaxed and smiled.  It appeared his hosts had thought of everything.  “Don’t forget to send me stuff.”

 Noct smiled. “I won’t, don’t worry.  I wish I could stay here with you and be lazy, but duty calls.  Gladio should be here any minute. Call me if something urgent comes up. Otherwise, I think you should be fine.”

 Prompto instinctively ducked down behind the couch when Gladio showed up to collect Noctis.  The alpha had changed into formal robes and he looked very handsome. Gladio smiled at him and waved goodbye when they left a few minutes later.  Suddenly wondering what Ignis was wearing, Prompto hoped Noctis would send him a picture.

>Next Chapter 3

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Shifting Intentions (baon)

Summary: Edge knows his brother very well and he doubts that Red came over for a coffee and a heart to heart.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Brotherly Bonding

Notes: The urge to write the Underfell brothers was overwhelming. Sometimes we get a little reminder that while Edge is a sweet, loving husband and friend, he also grew up in Underfell and some things are difficult to leave behind.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

The leaves were mostly fallen from the trees, torn down by the wind and leaving behind bare, creaking branches. They were layered atop the ground, crunching underfoot and scuffed up in rustling bunches beneath his boots as Edge moved around the chicken coop.

With the growing cold, it was time to check over the squat building to make sure it was winterized. No cracks to allow in a chilling breeze, no loose roofing to drip snowmelt down on their sleeping ladies.

And no gaps in the fencing to allow one small, sneaky chicken to escape in the night.

“There it is,” Edge murmured in satisfaction, fingering the small hole in the wires. Twice now Nugget had escaped and found her way into their house. The second time, Edge didn’t bother to wake Stretch. He carried their wayward hen back to the coop himself while she clucked unhappily at losing her place on their bed. That was last night and today Edge vowed to find her method of escape, as Stretch’s suggestion that she was learning to teleport was very low on the list of possibilities.

The gap in the wire was caused by two overlapping sections and wasn’t really visible from any angle. It was a surprise she’d even discovered it, but then, Nugget was surprisingly clever for a small chicken. And troublesome. And frankly charming, scuttling around Edge’s boots, clamoring for attention even as he sealed off her method of escape. She reminded him a little of a skeleton he knew, not that he’d name unnecessary names.

Edge mended the hole carefully, making sure to trim the wire ends closely, and he managed to not clip off the tip of his own finger when a loud voice came from above.

“playing a little handyman today, eh, boss? hope you nail it.”

It came from far over his head and likely meant Red was perched in the overhanging tree branch. Edge didn’t look up, only finished patching the hole. “Is this where I’m supposed to say screw you? I think I’ll pass, and I believe you were the one who taught me about the importance of home security.”

“ehhhhh.” But Edge knew he didn’t imagine the pleased note in that dismissive tone. “didn’t think you’d be applying it to a flock of unplucked dinosaurs.”

It took considerable poise not to flinch when his brother was soundlessly and abruptly at his elbow, crouching down to give Nugget a scratch. The gentleness of that petting was almost as disconcerting.

It was also suspicious, and Edge wondered with no little trepidation why his brother was even here, especially considered Sans’s visit the other day.

He sincerely doubted it was for same reason and still had a lingering regret for refusing Sans’s sidewise attempt at a heart to heart. It was honestly for the best. He couldn’t be the confidant Sans needed, not where his brother was concerned; Edge was the furthest thing from a neutral party. Stretch wasn’t much better, his opinions were colored as well simply by their marriage. He did hope Sans found someone he could speak to, even if it was his therapist. Stars knew Red had probably driven people he wasn’t sleeping with into counseling.

Red was not likely after a coffee and a chat, but so long as his brother was here—“Quit letting her into our house.”

Leaves rustled as Red moved somewhere next to him. He was on Edge’s wrong side, where the crack in his socket interfered with his vision. More than a minor annoyance; it agitated him to have anyone deliberately out of his line of sight and it was always better to assume everything Red did was with intention. “me? why would i do that?”

Hardly a denial. Edge continued with his repair, twisting the wires roughly. “The only reason I can come up with would be that you’re an ass, though I’m sure you believe it’s for some deeper meaning.”

Red scoffed, harsh and low in his throat. “don’t give a shit one way or another about chicken little here.”

Another crunch of leaves, vague footsteps along with ecstatic clucking and still outside Edge’s limited vision. Red was lingering in his blind spot while Edge refused to give in and move, only listening closely enough that the sharp fingertips scraping lightly over his skull weren’t a surprise. “but if i did do anything like that, might be to remind a certain shepherd to keep a better watch over his flock, little brother.”

There was a deeper meaning layered beneath that, a warning. It stung almost as much as the faint scratches left behind by his brother’s touch and Edge silently accepted both. His brother wasn’t wrong, Nugget’s escapades should have been investigated more closely from the beginning. If she’d been hurt or lost, perhaps even hit by a car, Stretch would have been devastated.

That knowledge did not make Red’s admonishment sting any less. He could feel the weight of his brother’s gaze, silently measuring Red’s current mood and weighing the correct path to take. Edge chose the route that allowed him to ask lightly, “How is Ozymandias?”

It was a distraction and his brother knew it, but he answered with a ready laugh, “he’s a shit. chewed off the heel on my favorite boots. he and sans ain’t gonna be best buds anytime soon, either, not with both of ‘em fighting over a little pettin’” Edge barely shuddered his disgust at that insinuation when Red added, slyly, ”if you’re worried about the kitty cat, you and stretch could come see him.”

That needling hit its target and it was enough for Edge to whip around and glare hotly at his grinning brother, “Don’t you dare offer him that. He’d do it to prove he could and be a mess all night for it.”

A sleepless night he did not need. Stretch was upstairs napping right now as it was. Curled up on their bed as he rarely did during the day, holding a strange new stuffed creature in his arms that was perhaps an octopus? The visible curling tentacles suggested something of that nature and Edge hadn’t the slightest idea where his husband even acquired it, only that Stretch seemed to have taken to it as an impromptu pillow. It was strangely enchanting, enough to be worth snapping a quick picture even considering the faint, worrisome shadows lingering beneath his sockets.

Checks still showed his HP as four, but Alphys stopped in about once a week to run a couple quick tests. She’d offer as much with nervous kindness, texted to Edge alone that perhaps it would be easier than forcing Stretch to come to the lab. She and her equipment both assured them that it was still rising, steadily if slowly. A few extra naps here and there would only help and Edge was happy to encourage them. And to not allow him to rise to the bait of any ridiculous challenges from his brother that would cause him to wake in the middle of the night from preventable nightmares.

To his astonishment, his brother’s grin softened. No more than a fraction, hardly visible to anyone who didn’t know him. Edge might not always understand his brother but he knew him, very well, and struggled to keep his shock hidden as Red admitted, “nah, bro, i wouldn’t do that to the honey bun.”

“See that you don’t or I won’t be the only sleepless one.” It was difficult to force the correct amount of cool sternness into his voice, but his brother would be expecting it. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“sure, why not?” Red said easily. That alone was somewhat surprising. His brother was perfectly content to raid his refrigerator at any hour of day or night, but rarely joined them for a meal.

It would either be a terrible mistake or just possibly a reasonably enjoyable meal. Red and Stretch usually got along very well…until they didn’t. Then they could squabble viciously, their insults chosen with deliberate care to draw the most blood. Worse, Edge couldn’t say that the two of them didn’t enjoy those nights just as much. His love had a disturbing cruel streak at rare times, much the same as Red, only Stretch would have regrets about it later and harsh self-recriminations.

What Edge knew without doubt was that he did not personally enjoy being in the middle of their brutal comedy routine. But the possibility of a perfectly nice (normal) meal with his brother and husband was too much to resist.

Edge gathered up his tools, shooing the chickens back into their newly repaired coop. “Come on, then, I need to get started.”

Red fell in at his heels, disturbingly familiar, as was his, “sure thing, boss.” Like falling through a thin crust of repression into bitterly icy memory. Red added on, relentlessly, “the honey bun is waking up, anyway.”

That statement was already an argument waiting to happen. Edge didn’t comment on it, though, let it go.

Because wasn’t there a dark, buried part of him that was grateful that his brother was watching out, pleased that his brother cared enough about Stretch to want him safe? In moments like these, Edge knew himself for the hypocrite he was, irritated with Blue’s incessant overprotectiveness while being comforted by the knowledge that if anything ever happened, his brother’s watchful eye would be over Stretch. Keeping him safe if Edge couldn’t.

It was better to simply not acknowledge that desire; he kept it back, lurking in the secret recesses of his soul where faint voices sometimes whispered slyly that the ring on Stretch’s finger was lovely, but he would be enchanting in a collar, marked with Edge’s colors and name, a bold declaration that none could mistake.

The words were strictly Underfell, whispers that Edge could never entirely banish, hidden ideas he never, ever wanted Stretch to glimpse. He never wanted to try to explain that he truly did understand that this world was different and the meaning behind it was not the same. It wasn’t about ownership, not the way Stretch knew it.

Anyone from Underfell would look at that collar and know that Edge was Stretch’s entirely, utterly devoted to his wellbeing and protection. A warning and a promise of dust to any who did not heed it, and not the illusion one that Red once wore for him.

But what those internal whispers refused to understand was that Edge didn’t need a collar for it to be true. His certainty of love was more than enough and it only took thinking of Stretch, of every treasured memory Edge possessed of his delight, and of his quiet, trembling voice promising to love and cherish to banish those voices back to the darkness where they belonged.

But not before they wondered with unholy glee exactly what his brother’s thoughts were on the subject, and did they concern Stretch or Sans.

Enough. Edge paused at the sliding glass door, taking a deep breath and shaking away those old, unsettling thoughts. When he pulled the door open, he held back, gesturing impatiently for Red to go in front of him.

For a brief moment they stood there, neither of them moving and his brother cast in shadow from the artificial light that spilled out from the doorway. Then Red stomped in ahead of him, the steel tips of his boots ringing against concrete and then kitchen tile. He hissing out as he passed, “there better be fucking chili dogs for dinner.”

The slight shakiness in Edge’s exhale was ignored, gone in his next breath as he followed his brother, closing and locking the door behind them.

-finis-

[brianamorganbooks]

Even for an all-girls boarding school, the first day of classes feels normal. I wake up a little before my alarm, anxiety roiling in my gut. No way can I go back to sleep. Waking up early turns out to be an unexpected blessing, though, as a knock sounds at the door. I glance over to the other bed, but Charlie isn’t there.

I yawn and manage to roll out of bed. When I answer the door, a security guard informs me that I have two visitors, but I’m not expecting anyone. To my surprise, two movers, both men, stand in the hallway. The security guard supervises as they haul two giant trunks into the dorm room, setting them down at the foot of Charlie’s bed.

“Here you go, Miss Masters,” one of them says to me.

With Charlie missing, it looks like I’m living in this room alone. I kind of feel like I am. I’m not so sure that Charlie unpacking will change that.

“I’m not her,” I say. “I don’t know where she is.”

The first mover grunts. “We need someone to sign for this. Do you think you can do that?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

The second mover passes me a tablet, and I scrawl my signature on the screen. He hands the tablet to his colleague and nods to the trunks. “Clothes and everything. Mr. and Mrs. Masters said if she’s missing anything, just let them know.”

That must mean they’re not coming to help her move in. As awful as she is to me, I feel a pang of pity. I may not be on the best terms with my parents right now, but at least they cared enough to make sure I’m settled.

The first mover nods. “Well, have a nice day.”

“You, too,” I answer.

Without another word, they shuffle off, talking loudly down the hall. The security nods and escorts them out.

Once they’re gone and I’ve closed the door behind them, I look over at the giant trunks—large, ornate, and ancient-looking—and wonder what to do. Charlie isn’t here to unpack them herself, and I wouldn’t dream of helping. She’d probably kill me for it.

The movers also brought an easel, a plastic storage tub labeled PAINTS AND ART SUPPLIES, and a bucket full of paintbrushes. Charlie’s an artist? Now the Monet makes more sense.

I finish my routine without touching her stuff, somewhat surprised when she doesn’t show up. My uniform is stiff and scratchy, but it doesn’t look too hideous. The Livingston standard is a red-and-gold pleated skirt, white dress shirt, red tie, and tan blazer with the Livingston crest emblazoned on the chest. As far as uniforms go, it could be so much worse. Still, my knee-high red socks and low-heeled shoes make me feel like a Catholic schoolgirl.

I sit alone at breakfast, fighting the urge to dump my tray and crawl back to my dorm room. I nurse my glass of orange juice like it’s something stronger and push my scrambled eggs around my plate with my fork.

I knew it would be hard for me to make friends here, but so far, I haven’t met a single person who isn’t in a clique. After my weird encounter with Charlie and the other girls in the bathroom, I’m less sure that was a fluke and surer that it’s par for the course. My mom thinks opening up is the key to getting closer to people, but how can I open up to anyone if I can’t get them to look at me, let alone maintain a conversation?

Not far away, Charlie, June, Billie, and Ronnie all sit together, eating and laughing. Some girls in hijabs sit at the table closest to me, also laughing. A squeal of delight cuts through the air, and I turn to see a group of black girls reenact a story. Nearby, more girls trade food items with each other.

I would give anything to know what that inclusion feels like.

After halfheartedly pushing my eggs around on my plate until my phone reminds me it’s time for class, I dump the content of my tray in the trash and sling my bag over my shoulder. Charlie and her gang are still seated, still laughing. I don’t want to bother them.

Classes are predictably boring. Thankfully, because this isn’t a movie, none of the teachers single me out for an introduction as a transfer student. None of the students pay me much attention either. I’m getting used to being ignored.

By the time my English class rolls around, I’m beyond grateful to see two familiar faces—Ronnie and Billie. Unlike June, however, they don’t seem keen on making me feel included. They don’t even acknowledge me as I slide into the desk adjacent to Ronnie’s.

“Hey,” I try.

“Hello,” Billie says.

Ronnie takes a brush out of her purse and runs it through her hair without saying a word. She digs out an eyeshadow palette and a rainbow-handled makeup brush.

Billie takes out her notebook, turns to a new page, and scribbles something across the top of it. Hand-lettering, it looks like. Fancy penmanship stuff. I bet she keeps a bullet journal.

“Have you had this teacher before?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Ronnie says. She doesn’t elaborate.

“Not me,” Billie says. “Doesn’t matter. Heard he’s easy, anyway. Also, it’s English, which we all happen to speak.”

This is probably the most they’ve ever spoken to me, and I’m not sure how to keep them talking. In my earlier classes, I didn’t dare try to even speak to anyone. My nerves got the best of me. Plus, I was too busy making sure I was in the right classroom. This school is too big.

I lean forward in my seat. “I like your glasses, Billie.”

“Thanks, Daisy.”

“It’s Rose.”

She flicks her gaze toward me. “Are you certain?”

“Positive.”

She presses her lips together. “You’re settled in with Charlie then?”

The change in topic pricks my ears. “She say something bad?”

“Not in so many words.”

I look to Ronnie, hoping for some kind of tell. She pulls old receipts and tubes of lipstick out of her purse.

“Charlie’s nice,” I say, and then feel like a giant idiot. Charlie isn’t nice. Anyone can see that, surely even her friends.

Billie quirks an eyebrow. “Is she though?”

“I… no, I guess not.”

I swear to God she smiles. “Haven’t lived with her long and you already get the gist. She’s a right terror. You’re in our thoughts.”

“I’d rather live outside than bunk with her,” says Ronnie. “You’re stronger than I am.”

“Well, so far so good.” I mirror Billie’s smile, hoping I look more comfortable than I feel.

The teacher, a man named Mr. Preston, enters the room and calls us to attention. I spend all of class trying not to look too eager, either to impress the teacher or for friendship, even though I’m starving for both. Once class ends, Billie and Ronnie get up. I start to follow them out when the teacher pulls me aside.

Billie and Ronnie either don’t notice, or they don’t care. I’m not sure which is worse.

“Uh… Rosemary, is it?” Mr. Preston begins. I can already tell from his tone of voice that this won’t be a fun conversation.

“Rose,” I say.

He falters, then forgoes my first name altogether. “Miss Abbott, I wanted to let you know… well, given what happened at your last school…”

Wait, he knows about that? My face catches fire. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not discuss that.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. I just wanted you to know, I’m happily married. And, if you want to make a good grade in this class, you’ll have to work hard, like everyone else. Any… extra credit will be announced in advance and will be open to everyone. During school hours.”

My whole body burns. “Excuse me?”

“I won’t repeat myself. Do you understand?”

All I want is for the ground to open up and eat me. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Have a good rest of your day.”

How can I do that, though, when my teacher insinuated that what happened with Nathan is my fault? That I’m a predatory temptress who lured someone saintly off the straight and narrow?

The rest of my day follows a similar pattern. I have no classes with the other girls, save Charlie in my history class. Relief washes over me when I realize that none of them see the way the teachers here treat me. If it’s any consolation, at least none of the faculty single me out during class.

I’m having a tough time wrapping my head around the idea that news of what happened has traveled over here. Sure, what happened in Salem was local news, but I didn’t think it made it all the way out here. Clearly, I was wrong.

Maybe the faculty have all seen my file.

After my classes, I head back to my dorm room. I pray Charlie isn’t there, but even if she is, it’s not like she’ll talk to me.

Meyer Hall sits sad and empty. Most of the other students must be out in classes, at the library, or hanging with their friends. I get on the elevator and head up to my floor without running into anyone else. While I fish my keys out of my purse, I consider calling my parents. It’s been less than two days, and while they’re not exactly thrilled to speak to me, at least it might be nice to hear a familiar voice.

Then again, if I call them now, it will feel like giving up. Like I’m a scared little girl who still needs her mommy and daddy. I’m not sure I’m ready to give up yet.

When I open the door to my room, Charlie is sitting on her bed. Ronnie, Billie, and June are sitting on mine. Their heads all snap up as they notice me. It might be my imagination, but I swear they all frown.

Ronnie snatches something out of Billie’s hand and holds it to her chest, hidden from me. “What is your roommate doing back here?”

“I don’t know. I thought she was in classes all day.” Charlie shoots me a look, like it’s somehow my fault that she hasn’t memorized my schedule. “Rose, do you mind? We’re in the middle of something.”

It’s the first time she’s gotten my name right, let alone tried to display any semblance of manners toward me, but anger heats my blood. “It’s my room, too. I’m staying.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow. “It’ll just take a second.”

Is she serious? Are they all so self-absorbed they think I’m not offended? This is my room as much as hers. She has no right to kick me out.

I square my shoulders. “I’m taking a nap.”

Ronnie mutters something under her breath. Billie titters. I probably don’t want to know what she said, especially as June won’t look at me or her—or anyone, for that matter. Ronnie is still holding whatever it is tight against her blazer, hidden from sight. What could it be?

I keep my eyes locked on Charlie’s, daring her to try again. Maybe it’s not wise to cross her but they’ve all treated me like shit so far and I just want to crawl under the covers and forget about the day.

Charlie blinks. Ronnie looks to her for guidance, as do the others.

“Fine,” Charlie spits. “Guess we’ll go somewhere else.”

She gestures toward the other girls. Ronnie rolls her eyes, tucks the object she’s been holding into her purse, and heads for the door. June and Billie follow. June shoots me a look so warm, it could almost be sympathetic. Even her sunflower earrings seem to smile at me. Charlie gets up from the bed and glares.

I try my best to ignore her, but she’s not leaving until she says her piece. “What is it?”

“Watch yourself.”

“What?”

From the open doorway, Billie laughs again. Charlie shoots her a look, then returns her attention to me. “You need to work on your attitude.”

Jesus. “You’re the one with the attitude here.”

She clenches her jaw, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she grabs her purse and keys and heads out into the hallway. When the door slams behind her, it rattles the hinges.

I sink down on my bed and flop onto my back, staring up at the ceiling once more. Maybe I’ll never find my place here.

I roll onto my side and stare at Charlie’s bed. It’s unmade, the comforter rumpled from where Charlie sat on it. Her belongings haven’t moved since the movers brought them this morning. Maybe she’s not unpacked yet as some form of protest. Though I don’t know her well, I can see her doing that.

Maybe she hates her parents as much as she hates me.

Keys jangle in the lock, and I sit bolt upright. Charlie rushes in, flushed and anxious. Speak of the devil.

“Forget something?”

“My phone.” She grabs it from her nightstand, pausing to look at the unpacked trunks. “You didn’t touch them, did you?”

If I weren’t so tired, I’d be offended. “Why would I do that?”

“Why would you touch my vial?” Charlie counters.

I bristle but don’t take the bait. I’m too tired to start any more fights with her. One of us needs to be the bigger person.

Charlie checks her latest-model phone, frowns down at something on the screen, and types something out. She mutters a curse. “Gods, I hate boys. They’re so stupid sometimes.”

Surely, she’s talking to herself, right? She can’t possibly be trying to strike up a conversation with me.

I don’t respond. After a second, her gaze flashes toward me, like she’s only just registered she said something to me, someone she hates.

“I’m sorry about your vial,” I say. “I didn’t mean—”

“Charlie!” Billie shouts from the hall.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” I continue.

“Don’t worry about it.” Charlie tucks the phone into her pocket and heads for the door. “Thank you.”

Once the door closes, I lie back on the bed. Despite the shitty day I’ve had, I feel a tinge of hope. Maybe Charlie and her friends will come around. If not, I can reach out to other girls, right?

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