#everyone on tw is saying it's an incredible song but then again i am in his fandom so i don't have an unbiased tl hshdh

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

good morning i woke up to this

[gardnhee]

can we start over? - c.yj

✸ tw/content. intentional lowercase, cussing, angst(very little), fluff, use of baby (only like once or twice.), reader is slightly antisocial in the beginning, not really proofread

✸ exbsf!yj x afab!reader

✸ note. yj drabble cs i love him an unhealthy amount

✸ song rec. start over - jacquees

you stood in a corner like the awkward person that you are. away from all the chatter, laughter, yelling, and horny crowd. this is how you liked it, you indulged in your solitude.

the unbearably loud music rang in your ears, the fact that you were standing just a couple feet from the speakers didn’t help either.

you decided to drown the ringing by taking a sip of your cup, inhaling a sharp breath as the liquid cascaded down your throat.

“…who hired this dj? music’s unbearable…” you murmured as you frowned at the dj who stood a couple steps from you.

it was fairly boring for a while, the music slowly started to feel faint as the stuffy atmosphere began to push its way into your already tight space. you slightly squeeze the plastic cup in your hand, pressing your back against the wall.

you felt trapped.

deciding you’ve had enough of this, you walk away from the corner. as if you were popping a bubble; like a puppy opening its eyes for the first time, but instead of meeting with a fascinating world, you’re met with drunk shit heads who can’t dance, let alone walk in a straight line.

“where is she…” you huffed, looking for the coworker who invited you to this party, if you can even call it that. it’s more depressing than a fucking funeral.

pushing through everyone was a literal pain in the ass, the environment reeked of alcohol, and the air was incredibly thick. you were starting to regret even accepting the goddamn invitation.

go they said, it’ll be fun they said, “fun my ass.” you utter a small ‘tsk’ as a man twice your size bumps into you, not even having the common courtesy to apologize. god, this is horrible.

you somehow ended up in the kitchen. sighing in frustration, you rest yourself against the counter.

“i’m going to fucking kill-“ you started, but were rudely interrupted when someone walked into the kitchen.

your eyes slightly widened as you acknowledge the person. your ex best friend. fun.

he was whistling along to the horrendous noise these people call music, happiness basically oozing from his pores.

he turned his head to you, looking at you from head to toe in shock, shock which soon subsided and was replaced with an expression you can’t quite describe.

“oh.. hey.” yeonjun waved, mullet drenched in sweat as some loose hairs stuck to his forehead. he breathed heavily, his once joyful demeanor now engulfed in…uncomfortableness? melancholy? nostalgia? it’s been so long that you can’t tell anymore.

he slowly made his way to the fridge, giving you an awkward smile as you bite your inner cheek and look away.

it was silent for a while, you could feel his eyes burning holes into your face.

“yn?” he quietly said, arms crossed over the open fridge door. he looked at you, waiting for a response.

in all honesty, he didn’t expect one. at least not after ghosting you completely and then coming back a couple months later like nothing happened.

he scoffed and shook his head with a sad smile, sighing in disbelief. he was disappointed in himself.

yeonjun shut the fridge door and begun to lead himself out the kitchen, “yes?” you replied with urgency, you didn’t want him to leave. not again. not after losing him for months.

he chuckled, looking back at you. “you’re…not mad at me?” he asked, feet moving in your direction. he realized you aren’t so closed off anymore, you’re more…awake, as if you’ve come to terms with the gravity of things, and for that, he’s thankful. he can make things right now.

you grew nervous, a prominent lump built up in your throat, making it difficult for you to breathe. “i wouldn’t say i am - or was - mad, i guess i..“ you stopped yourself as yeonjun stumbled, falling onto you.

you tried backing up, but couldn’t. fucking counter…you thought, swallowing slowly as the smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils.

“yeonjun? yeonjun, you’re drunk.” you tried pushing him off, but he didn’t budge. instead, he laid his head on your shoulder, “not drunk, just… tipsy.” he blabbered.

it was silent for a couple seconds until you heard him sniffle. he was crying.

“wha…” he grabbed your waist, sobbing into your shoulder. “i’m so-“ he hiccuped, followed by a groan. “i’m sorry, yn, i’m sorry!” yeonjun cried, lifting his head in an attempt to look at you. you stood there, dumbfounded. heart hammering against your chest. he’s drunk. it was evident, yet he still denied it.

he peeked at you through his wet lashes, incoherent sounds slipping past his lips as he wiped his runny nose. “and you say you’re not drunk? look at you! why are you crying?!” you raised both brows in confusion, stroking his hair softly.

you’re supposed to be cussing him out for all the hurt he’s caused you, for leaving with absolutely no explanation, yet here you are, combing your cold fingers through his sweaty strands as he bawls into your shoulder. you’ve seen him like this more often than not; always manages to surprise you, though.

“i’m not drunk…. ‘m sorry” he hesitated, wiping the wetness from his eyes with the back of his hand. as you realize how close your bodies are, you nod, circling around him.

yeonjun turned, biting his lip. he wants to say something. you know he wants to say something, but he’s holding back and it’s making you anxious and impatient.

“would you maybe…want to leave?” you blink, all previous feelings of discomfort disappearing. “what’re you planning?” you question, crossing your arms as you sternly stare at him.

“maybe grab some drinks and then go to my place?” he smiled, which quickly disappeared when you displayed a doubting look. “i mean, i just want to talk to you…without all the noise…and the multitude of people.” your heart shattered, and you were sure your eyes softened, because his did too.

“fine.” yeonjun’s ears perk up, big smile on his face. “let’s go.” you nodded, grabbing his arm before he left the kitchen.

“i’m driving.”

“but-“ his eyebrows furrowed, “no buts, deny it all you want, we’re not risking it.” he sighed, defeat poking through the pout on his lips. he lowly hummed in agreement, walking out of the kitchen with you trailing close behind.

“home sweet home!” yeonjun exclaimed, arms flying in the air as the bag of soju dangled in his hand. “yeonjun, be quiet, it’s late.” you slowly grabbed his arm, taking the bag of soju away. “i shouldn’t have allowed you to drink on the way here.” you sighed, placing the bag on the counter and taking out the already opened box of soju.

he pouted, stumbling towards the little coffee table that sat in the middle of his living room. “bring some soju, please!” he slurred.

you grabbed the box, nestling it under your arm as you made your way towards drunk yeonjun.

you sat down, setting the box on the coffee table. “oh…i forgot to bring shot glasses.” you groaned, fixing to stand up when yeonjun stopped you.

“no, it’s okay. i’ll go get them.” he smiled, patting your hand.

“but-“

“it’s okay.” he shook his head, standing up and making his way to the kitchen.

in a matter of seconds, he was back, sitting in front of you with soju in hand, two shot glasses already set on the table.

yeonjun held the bottle from the bottom with one hand, and swirled it vigorously with the other. you watched him closely, how his hands wrapped around the bottle, you wonder how they’d feel on your face-

“yn?” you blinked, snapping back into reality. “yes? i’m sorry.” you gulped, noticing a full shot glass in front of you.

as you were about to reach for the glass, you stopped midway. sighing as you plopped your arm down on the table. yeonjun noticed this and raised a brow, “is everything…alright?” he asked, pouring soju into his glass.

“yes…and no.” you admitted, “i mean i just…i missed this, you know? spending time with you. i missed being here. i missed this apartment.” you paused, staring at yeonjun who was now looking down at his thighs.

“i missed you.” you leaned forward, arms now crossed on the table. yeonjun snapped his head up, quickly grabbing his glass and gulping the liquid down.

“ahhh…” he set the glass down, frowning as the liquid burned his throat. “i missed you too yn…” he smiled weakly, you realized he wasn’t in the right mind for all the sappy stuff right now, so you decided to change the subject.

“tell me, what have you been up to?” you smiled, grabbing your glass, tilting your head to the side as you swallow the drink.

“me? hm…not much….” yeonjun leaned forward, smile spread across his flushed cheeks.

✸ ✸ ✸

you lost track of time, it seemed. but you weren’t the only one. yeonjun, too, lost track of how many shots he took. not that it mattered, he was already drunk out of his mind to begin with. “baby…..” he slurred, reaching out to you as you gasped. baby?? are you serious??

“yeonjun what…” you decided to stop yourself, not even questioning anything that came out of his mouth.

after looking around for a minute, you groaned. there is so much to clean up.

an unfinished 20 pack of soju on the table; only 4 remaining, some snack wrappers thrown on the table, and a drunk yeonjun who can’t even utter a proper sentence.

“‘m s’sorry” he hiccuped, head lulling as he smiled like an idiot. his lips glistened under the dim light, most likely from all the constant licking and drinking he’s been doing.

“let me take you to your room so you can sleep.” he shook his head violently, backing up against the sofa behind him as you made your way to him.

“no!” he pouted, looking at you with tears brimming his eyes. “oh you’re such a child, come on let’s go!” yeonjun pushed your hand off his arm, whining.

you stopped and huffed, sitting down beside him in order to comfort him, “why are you crying?”

“i f…feel like shit” he cried, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “why do you feel that way?” you knew this was just a drunk fit of his, but you had to at least hear him out.

“‘cuz i ruined my chance with the person i love” he sniffles, staring into your eyes with his teary ones. you blinked, wiping his tears with your thumbs. “and who may that be?” you question, stroking his shoulder in a comforting manner.

“you.” you inhale sharply, blinking in confusion. you shook your head, chuckling awkwardly, “you’re just drunk, come on.” yeonjun stopped protesting, defeated by his own tiredness.

you wrapped his arm over your shoulder, dragging him while leaning against the walls for support. “goddamnit, what have you been eating? you’re so heavy.” you strain, sighing in relief as your eyes find his bedroom door.

opening the door was one thing, laying him on the bed was another. you pant, his body weighing you down. as a result you slipped and fell.

on top of him.

jesus fuck.

you froze when he groaned. “i’m so sorry!” you scrambled to stand up, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you against him.

“sleep with me tonight, please.” yeonjun whispered, lazy smile spreading across his face. you shake your head, “yeonjun, you’re drunk. we can’t be doing this. you’re not in the right mind!” you faintly shake your head, “please?” he insisted.

you sighed, pressing your forehead against his chest. “fine. but i will be leaving first thing in the morning.” he chuckled, nodding. “if you want to get comfortable, my shirts are over there-“ he hiccuped. you nodded and patted his chest in understanding. “just sleep, okay?? i’ll be right back.” yeonjun hummed, closing his eyes.

you wake up groggy and disoriented, staring at the window as a ray of sunshine peeked through the curtain, making you squint and smile lazily.

you rub the sleep from your eyes and stretch, “good mor-“ you stop as you notice yeonjun isn’t in bed with you anymore. you look around the room once more, no sign of him.

a pang of worry and confusion washed over you. one would think it’s stupid considering the fact that you’re in his house, yet you can’t help but be alarmed.

what if he left you again?

‘oh that’s stupid, yn. pull yourself together.’ you shake your head and scoff, but the panic settles at the pit of your stomach nonetheless.

throwing the blanket to the side, you stand, yawning as you wobble towards the door.

“yn-“ yeonjun stops, doorknob in one hand and breakfast tray in the other. he eyed you as you stood there, eyes wide in confusion.

yeonjun blinked, “good morning?…” he lets out a breathy laugh, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot. “i made you breakfast.” you felt your heart squeeze at that. he smiled, walking over to the bed and signaling you to lay down.

and you did. you laid down, placing the warm blankets back on your body and smoothing them over in order to create a flat enough surface for the breakfast tray.

“thank you so much..” you gush as yeonjun placed the tray in front of you. he sat down, crossing his legs and smiling like a total idiot.

“you’ve been nothing but smiles since you walked in the room…did something happen?” you question, making yeonjun hang his head with an even bigger smile on his face. “you look so beautiful.” he mumbled, adjusting his position on the bed.

“what?” you looked up, cheek stuffed with food. he snorted, scooting forward and leaning towards you. “i said,” he wiped your lip with his thumb, eyes traveling to yours, holding them dearly. “you look so beautiful.” he chuckled at your expression, making his heart skip a beat.

“you’re making a mess, be careful, yeah?” you grab the tray, placing it to one side as you choke on your food. yeonjun stands with you, stroking your arms with his soft hands.

“hey, you alright?” you nodded, grabbing onto his shoulder for support. “it’s just…” you stopped, swallowing the lump in your throat. “you caught me off guard, that’s all.” yeonjun’s eyes softened, “i meant it.” he caressed your face as a warm smile tugged at his lips.

“why…why are you being so nice to me?” you stepped away from his hold, sitting back down on the soft bed. he sighed and flopped down beside you, staring at the curtains that blocked the sunlight.

“because i’m in love with you.” his eyes traveled from the window to you, “i’ve been in love with you.” you waver, eyes widening in confusion. “and i don’t want to mess up again.”

“so last night-“

“i remember.” yeonjun nodded, fidgeting with his thumbs as he bit his bottom lip. “i guess i was drunk enough to let that slip but not enough to forget.” he reasoned, gazing at you briefly before staring at his feet.

“it’s okay if you don’t want anything to do with me, i mean-“ you placed a hand on his, drawing circles on it with your thumb. “yeonjun, im in love with you too.” he stopped, shifting on the bed.

“what?…”

“im in love with you too.”

he stuttered, mouth opened for a few seconds before closing it again. you saw the glint in his his eyes before being pulled into a hug.

a long, warm, cozy hug.

a hug you’ve been craving for a while.

his hug.

you broke into tears, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “oh god, yn, i’m deeply sorry. i’ve hurt you so much.” yeonjun ran his fingers through your hair, cooing softly.

you stained his shirt, but he didn’t care,“i missed you so much, you know? we stopped talking for so long. i thought i lost you for real…” you say between sobs, lightly punching his chest.

“i forgive you, dumbass.” he stayed quiet, you’re too nice. he didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. yet you gave it. you gave something so precious to someone who doesn’t even deserve a single look from you.

yeonjun held your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. he smiled, “how about this, you finish breakfast and then we can go wherever you want. i’ll explain myself. i’ll explain everything.” you nod slowly, grinning.

“there’s my yn, i missed you.” he quipped, earning himself a slap to his arm. he winced, rubbing the spot.

“is this a date then?” you question, grabbing another bite of your once forgotten food.

“hmmmmmmm” yeonjun tapped his chin, laughing as you whine. “yes dummy, it is.” he flicked your forehead lightly as you giggled.

you grab his arm, “let’s get ready then.” yeonjun didn’t budge as you tried dragging him along, “but the food…” you shook your head, “it’s gone cold, plus i know you’re somewhat hung over so let me treat you to food, hm?” you tapped his hand reassuringly.

“yn-“

“i’m not taking no for an answer.” he pursed his mouth, slowly nodding in defeat.

“perfect, where do you want to go?”

“how about…”

you both disagreed the entire way to the bathroom, laughing and giggling as jokes were thrown around between sentences.

you missed this.

you missed yeonjun.

he was willing to start over, and you were willing to let it happen.

© GARDNHEE 2024, do not copy, modify, or upload on other platforms.

💌: im sorry this is lwk ass, i hope you enjoyed regardless! please make sure to leave a like, comment, and reblog!! thank you 🫶

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[greeen-bean]

Saw Next to Normal at the Wyndham last night OH MY GOD

It was amazing! I genuinely think that is the best show I have ever seen. All of the acting and the music and the set and lights, every aspect that goes into theatre production was done perfectly.

I dragged my friend to watch it with me and she had no idea about any of the plot (only deciding in the line to go into the theatre that she might want to look it up), I warned her beforehand it was very sad and dealt with mental health but other than that she knew nothing. The look she gave me when you (spoilers!!!!) fine out Gabe is dead was so !!! She was still talking abiut how it shook her in the car ride home. She also turned to me at the interval was tears running down her face saying she was mad at me ("why didn't you warn me about the mountain song" "I said I liked it I thought you would have caught on"). We were also sitting quite close so couldn't see the floor of the stage, something we realise was probably a good thing after (again spoiler but also TW) the suicide attempt when Dan had to clean up the blood.

The acting was incredible!!! Ngl I could have done without the American accents (namely Jack's but maybe I'm just not used to it) but whatever. We got the Standby for Natalie (Lizzy Parker) and she was brilliant!! Natalie was always my favourite and she was played so beautifully! Henry (Jack Ofrecio) was also amazing, he kept all of his scenes (notably the ones with Natalie) so grounded and funny, the way all throughout he kept trying tk help her and not letting her push him away was so !!! Him and Natalie was my friends favourite part, she loved them so much (she also said they needed to get a room). The Doctor(s) (Trevor Dion Nicholas) was so good! I loved how he was able to play the different doctors so differently, he was funny when he needed to be, and again kept everything grounded when other characters were... not. You could also tell how much he believed in what he was doing and saying despite everyone else being cautious. Dan (Jamie Parker) is another one of my favourite characters and he was played so so sos so so sos os well!!! The anger and hope and regression of feelings, his love for Diana and feeling of betrayal it was so sbgsisbdnzudisjsbisish he makes me so emo if I think about it too much. For Diana (Caissie Levy) I actually do not have words to discribe how amazing she was, I cannot imagine anyone else playing Diana and being as good! I want to say so much about how perfect she was in the roll in every scene, and hiw her singing was emotional and funny and so so so real but I actually cannot wrap my head around it all 😭😭

I could talk for days about Jack Wolfe. I want to be an actor and he is one of, if not currently my biggest inspiration. I knew going into to this how good he would be but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Every second he was on stage, either front and center singing (a breathtaking song) about how he's alive, or sitting at the back lounging on the counter whilst other characters are fighting, you know what he was thinking and feeling and why and oh my GOD, when he walked on stage for the first time I say that it was him but it also wasn't, there was no part of Jack Wolfe in that performance all that you saw was this cocky snarcky teenager and watch him become more needy and scared and desperate as the play goes on. I am in awe of how amazing he was I might cry.

[ladybirdplace]

Pygmalionism part 2

TW: passing suicide mention and school trauma.

So now, I talk about the stigma of this. Disregarding the stigma of being auto or just into yourself at all in general, there is a very distinct stigma around the experience of not wanting to romantically/sexually engage with anything that is sentient and rather has its own selfhood.

That’s why I mentioned Ruby Sparks as an example. Ruby Sparks is a commentary about love and how people idealize each other into caricatures and love that, rather than the actual person who inspired that creation in their head.

Calvin is a person who wants to date a real person, but he can’t handle a person having a real identity beyond what he wants them to be like. Of course these types of people are stigmatized because holding your partner to unrealistic standards and only accepting a perfect version of them is harmful.

However, Ruby Sparks was partly inspired by the Pygmalion myth which describes the kind of thing I’m talking about.

But to be more specific about the phenomenon I really am talking about, I’ll put here the lyrics to a song I love about a man and his love for his sex doll. Olivia, by Harley Poe:

"I got my figures on the wall,

Comics stacked up in the hall;

I got a movie in my DVD player

I got my music that I love,

And a girl sent from above

I got my problems, but

They seem so little next to her

Man, oh, man, I got no money,

Spend it all on my new honey

I got you, and you got me,

And that's all that we need

No one seems to understand me,

Lay there still, don't ever leave me

I feel inside you're all I have

So, baby, hear my plea

And even though I can't converse with you,

There are so many other things that we can do

As you lay there lifeless on my bed,

You were never really livin', so you can't be dead!

You'll never die, so tears won't be shed

So you think that I'm so cool,

Not like I was back in school,

I didn't have a friend and everyone was mean

Introverted and I know it,

And I'm not afraid to show it,

'Cause there's no one here like me,

It's my scene

Man, oh, man, I can't relate

To others and it feels so great,

I don't need people, don't need friends,

I only want my toys

Lovin' you, it must be sin,

I'm talkin' to myself again

That's okay, 'cause momma said

I'm not like other boys

Olivia, you're not a real female,

But you'll work for me

When relationships fail

Olivia, your skin it feels

So real;

On the Internet

Is where I got this great deal"

This song depicts a man who is introverted, asocial and dissatisfied with the way that people have treated him in the past. Rather than have a girlfriend, he much prefers a sex doll to be his companion.

And I know that these types of people—me being included in that group—are stigmatized unfairly. Of course there’s stigma surrounding being objectum, but I mean the inner workings behind why someone would prefer an object to a real person.

I know neurotypical, allistic society thinks that people are the ultimate panacea, but the truth is that people are difficult. People are hard to deal with, and as an extension, relationships are hard to make work.

But more than that, people are terrifying, especially for someone like me.

And when you have someone like me, who is afraid of relationships, the knee jerk reaction is to say that I just haven’t found my tribe yet, and once I do, all that fear will dissolve and I’ll be normal.

And yeah, maybe that’s right, but . . . Really, I don’t think it’s that big a deal if people want to be alone because they’re afraid.

I mean, to me it’s the same as people forcing autistic people to repeatedly be exposed to things that overstimulate them or cause them to meltdown so they can 'get used to it', but it only results in unnecessary hurt and trauma.

For someone like me, who is so incredibly drained by the slightest contact, even socializing with people I love is painful, sometimes physically painful. It drains me, and I only need more time alone after that, to recharge and gather my sanity.

It’s exhausting to socialize inherently, because I have only learned to socialize with people by masking. Even if I don’t do it very well, it still disconnects me from myself, and I don’t return to myself until I’m alone. And that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

I am traumatized by the constant socialization I went through in school, among other things school put me through not related to socializing.

Meeting so many people, talking all the time, perpetually having to explain myself, being forced to work without pay while still being grovelingly respectful, being forced to be with people who's presence was the psychological equivalent to a blinding florescent light being blinked in your eyes at point blank range first thing in the morning on for six hours straight and still be expected to not show the evidences of my being blinded, to be fine and not want to off myself and do it all over again tomorrow . . . It tired me beyond words.

And that’s not counting my fear of being mistreated by people.

Everything about socializing is exhausting for me. Everything. Even with people I love and cherish. I live with my mom, and I would die for her a million times if I had to, and I still get tired A LOT.

I really, really wish I could just not talk unless it was completely necessary, all because of that. I have to preserve my ever-waning energy for other things, and I don’t want to waste it on talking, but I do anyway.

Nonverbal communication is somehow worse because I’m always second guessing myself and wondering what the hell they actually mean. And when it comes to eye contact and touching, I have my limits.

Everything about a romantic relationship or a sexual encounter is just plain nightmarish to me now. I’ve had my taste, and it was enough to know what I can handle at this point in my life, because I know who I am, no matter what people will tell me on the contrary.

It’s not just fear of rejection or laziness or not liking people, it’s about the great big conundrum of the entire thing. But people don’t think about that. To them, there is no valid reason to be asocial.

I don’t think that fearing relationships or just not being compatible with certain types of relationships and so preferring something safer and more comfortable is shameful or pathetic or sad or wrong. I think that it is completely valid and it should be respected.

And because I know myself and my own needs, I can recognize that there are some things that I should not do, like own a pet or have a child, because I am not responsible enough for it.

Having a relationship is another responsibility that I am not ready for in my life, and maybe I never will be ready for it, or maybe if I ever am, I won’t want to be in a relationship still. I am okay with all those outcomes.

But I am very glad for the fact that I am smart enough to know that the sort of responsibilities you take on in a relationship are not something I can healthily handle right now or perhaps ever. There are so many people in the world who bite off more than they can chew, and have to deal with the consequences for the rest of their life.

(As a sidenote, I personally think, there are some people in the world who just aren’t compatible with anyone at all. And sometimes there are people in the world who’s aloneness is rather a mercy to the rest of us.)

I’d like it if people would be more open to people who have social anxiety modifying the way they live their lives to be more comfortable and fulfilled, even if it tweaks time-honored traditions that are only acknowledged as existing in one form, like romantic relationships and sexual intercourse.

And I know that in the case of myself, using objects and characters is just another way I express love for myself, and I think that is beautiful. It gives me joy and satisfaction in my life to be able to love myself in so many different ways.

[vyvesvi]

2022 music recap (2/3?)

concepts:

this was a good year for good concepts, and i hope it improves even more next year! onlyoneof's "be" series really held it down, with the standout in my opinion going to yoojung's begin. this sounds extremely dumb but the song and the music video are at peak conceptual, thematic, tonal, sonic and lyrical harmony. like the song and mv are explicitly about beginnings, yes, but something about the song also sounds like the start of something new. they're insane for that oml. i am once again asking everyone to watch the be series start to finish once the last installment drops on january 4th. i won't be mad if you mute beat i promise but the mv is still nice.

i feel like i've been raving about lexie liu's album, the happy star, and it's rollout too much but. please watch fortuna and magician (tw death, tw flashing though, be careful!!). i can't fully explain what i liked beyond the story, but i just think the whole thing is really well done. i especially love how the ganma mv is her cleaning up one of the sets from fortuna/magician. it could just be because i love this album dearly but i even love the 3.14159 mv thats just her walking around in interesting sets (kind of a fake one shot style). idk. it makes sense to me.

love dive is my favorite gg mv of the year! i won't spend too much more time on it but yeah. it's impeccable, and i liked the vibe of the teasers too. I hope they bring that energy again for their first album, that's the quality that i'd expect for what's shaping up to be the next huge gg.

albums:

i need to post this and run away tbh, it's to the point where i'm not even fully sure that i agree with myself. i don't have the time/energy/patience/will to go through each album one by one but i would strongly recommend all of the selected songs that i put on the righthand side :)

debuts (in order by rank):

generation was a perfect debut we love to see it! a friend and i were talking about what makes the music video unique despite containing pretty conventional themes and we decided that it felt a bit more true to the "female gaze," which was great to see. i'm so excited to see where they go :)

i don't love ador as a company (that gaslighty statement is still sooooo crazy to me) so i don't really like talking about new jeans very much despite enjoying their music. i'm not sure who paid everyone to say that hype boy is their best song when attention is right there. the girls who get it get it! very solid debut mini. i hope ador is more careful with their concept in the future- ditto seems like a good start. i will be keeping an eye out for them moving forward!

tan dududu - somehow the last hope for men??? it's toooo good even if the bsides are pretty weak. dudududu isnt really a song you listen to and get hooked in my opinion, but it's an instant classic that'll never get old (in part because it takes a lot of inspiration from more classic american (read: black) rnb sounds). this group also has an older average age, which i love to see. their most recent mini, walking on the moon, was also very good, it gives got7/full8loom to me. my two wishes for them are 1.) to define their sound better and 2.) better album art.

fifty fifty's higher was like a sleeper agent and i found myself enjoying it more than anticipated at each listen. i LOVE their main vocal's tone. i need them to never ever ever do a song like log in ever ever again.

i was so impressed with yena! i wasnt an izone stan but i watched her debut on a whim and it really got me (it didn't hurt that her concept felt like the culmination of my "kpop-punk" predictions nearly two years ago at this point). her whole album is incredibly solid, and yueha did a fantastic job figuring out a unique concept that suits her. while i wasn't a fan of smartphone, i will definitely checking out her music!

throwbacks:

i won't say much here, even though it should technically be the biggest section. pado and eat my love (2021) were two of my biggest songs this year, they actually fit right in with new jeans and fifty fifty in my opinion. this year was the year i finally opened my eyes to taemin- i've always liked him, but for a few months in there criminal and advice were on repeatt. i also love the thirsty instrumental!

wayv...what to say about wayv. i'm truly hoping for the best from them but they worry me sometimes. i don't really trust their company to continue to pour into them unfortunately. but hey, at least i still have moonwalk! moonwalk is one of my favorite bg songs of all time and it's likely to stay that way for awhile :)

up next: playlists that defined my year!

[writeawaythepain]

Everybody Talks

Engineer!Mark x (gn!reader)

literally the same fic but Captain’s gender neutral.

here’s the og fic (with a male reader)

Ok so apparently Engineer!Mark isn't Actor, but Actor might be Engineer…? I have no idea what that means, so I just write him like a different character. Sounds good? Sounds good. lmao, Idk I just love this nerd.

tw: none, I don’t think

Word Count: 1.7k

Prompts: “Wait. Are you two…?”“Are we what?” F 2 - "Go away." "You're holding me you idiot." "So mean." Fl 16 - "You smile like an idiot when you are talking to them."

Summary: You're taking a coffee break and bump into one of your crew, Tyler, and have a nice chat about your journey ahead. He brings up talk about you and your head engineer, and you're forced to confront your feelings for your overdramatic, but loyal, right-hand man.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You’ve been working hard to prep the ship, and your crew, for your journey ahead. The first Invincible had…well…not been as invincible as its name suggested, and you didn’t want whatever happened to it, to happen again. Not on your watch. Not to mention, you had grown fond of the crew of the Invincible, you’d even go as far as calling most of them your friends. No matter how different everyone was, you all shared a love for space and a determination for the success of this mission. You’d been working long hours going through all the protocols with Mark, your Head Engineer, and right-hand man at this point, to make sure everything was in order. But he had gone to do some maintenance to the ship's engines, and your eyelids were starting to get heavy.

You decided some coffee was in order. You rubbed your tired eyes and headed towards the food court. Just as you were about to pour yourself a hot cup o’joe, you hear a familiar voice from behind you.

“Long day Captain?” Tyler asks, casually walking up to you and grabbing himself a styrofoam cup.

“Yea, I guess you can say that. It’s kind of hard to keep track of time out here.” You reply, holding the coffee up to your face and basking in its warmth.

“Ain’t that the truth.” He chuckles. “Does everything seem to be in order?”

  “There was a little hiccup in one of the engines, but Marks already on it. Other than that, we should be ready to embark in a week or two.” You can’t help but smile to yourself, with Mark’s help, you felt hopeful that all would go according to plan. You take a sip of the hot liquid, already feeling a bit more awake.

   “Ah, so that’s why he’s not here.” Tyler chuckles to himself, eyes focused on putting a lid on his own coffee cup. You tilt your head.

   “What do you mean?” You ask, a bit confused.

   Tyler chuckles, “What do you mean, ‘What do you mean?’ Mark’s always following you around like a lost little puppy.” Your cheeks flush a bit in embarrassment.

  “That’s- that’s just ‘cause he’s helping me get everything ready for the expedition!” You stutter out. Tyler smirks, bemused.

   “Suuure. You know, everyone can kind of tell. You always smile like an idiot when you’re talking to him.” He playfully pokes your shoulder. “Or even about him, really.” You gently swat his hand away.

   “Tyler, I am your Captain! You can’t tease me like this!” You jokingly scold, your flushed face giving you away entirely.

At your defensive tone, his eyes widen.“Wait. Are you two…?” He trails off, lifting his hands to cover the growing grin spreading across his face.

“Are- are we what?” Damn your stuttering. Why were you even being so defensive, and why were your cheeks so god damn hot!

“Oh my god…the Captain’s in love!~” He exclaims in a sing-song voice. You have half a mind to throw your coffee at him.

“Tyler! CaN yOU sHuSH-” You yell out, a little louder than you meant to. “I am not in love. That’s- that ridiculous. We’re- we’re just good friends, is all…” Your voice lowers to a normal volume, but you are still incredibly flustered.

Tyler’s smirk just grows, “Whatever you say Captain.” he tips his hat, cup of coffee in hand, and leaves without another word.

As soon as Tyler knows he’s out of earshot, he chuckles to himself. It was growing painfully obvious to everyone that you two liked each other, and Mark was so obvious with how hard he tried to impress you, Tyler couldn’t believe how oblivious you were to it. So he had taken it upon himself to give the Captain…a little nudge. He smiles and takes a sip of his coffee, instantly spitting it out. He frowns as he realizes that while focusing on teasing the Captain about their feelings, it seems he managed to put salt in his cup, instead of sugar. Screw you karma, I was trying to be helpful.

Back by the coffee machine, your mind was racing. What was Tyler on about? You…liking Mark? I mean, of course you, liked, him! Sure he was kind of an idiot, but he was funny, and loyal. Even to a fault. You knew he would stick by your through thick and thin. He already had through all the preparations of the journey. You trusted him, but that didn’t mean you liked him like THAT…right?

You grumble to yourself as you feel a vibration from your wrist. Mark was pinging you on your communicator, but, strangely, there was no message. You started to turn towards the engine room, when you felt it vibrate again. And then again. You speed up your pace, panic starting to envelop your heart as you rushed towards the engine room.

You slam the door open, coffee already long forgotten on some table in the hall, and frantically search the room. Your eyes land on a large piece of metal sliding off one of the engines, teetering on the edge of falling. Mark was trapped under it, holding it up with one hand, as the other frantically tapped his communicator.

You call out to Mark, and he answers, “Over here! A little help, Cap!” He grunts as the metal shifts and falls down a little more. “Whenever you feel like it, Captain!” he snaps. You run over and reach your hand up to push on the falling metal piece. You take a deep breath and slowly heave it upwards with all your might.

“Mark! On the count of three, we push it to the right, and dive left!” He frantically nods as the metal shifts down again, both of you grimacing at the weight. “One!”

You widen your stance, clenching all your muscles in anticipation. “Two!”

The metal shifts again, and you are forced to reposition yourself. “Three!”

The world seems to slow as you both heave the metal to the right and dive your bodies left. You collapse into a heap on the ground, panting. You quickly turn to find Mark, and grab his arm, examining him for any injuries. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, he seemed fine, and your shoulders finally relaxed.

“Thanks Cap! I don’t know what happened! Or what would’ve happened if you hadn’t-” You interrupt him, pressing a finger to his lips.

“Shush, don't talk like that. You’re safe and that’s all that matters,” you reassure him.

Mark's cheeks turn a shade of pink as he looks at your hand, and then meets your eyes before he mutters a muffled, “M-okay.” Your cheeks heat up a bit, and you lower your hand, avoiding his gaze. Suddenly, he smirks. “Luckily, I had my amazing, handsome and/or beautiful Captain to come and save me~” He wraps an arm around your shoulder. Your face burns red at his words.

You gently punch into his chest, leaving your hand against him, and bury your head in his shoulder. “Go away.” You pout, embarrassed. You were the Captain of this ship, and you were usually good at keeping calm. But seeing Mark almost get crushed by a giant piece of metal had made your heart freeze over in terror. Maybe Tyler had been on to something after all.

You hear Mark laugh, and feel his chest shake as he gently rubs your shoulder, "You're the one holding me, you idiot."

You fein an offended gasp. "Your so mean. You do know I’m your Captain, right?" Seriously, what happened to respecting your superiors? He sighs and leans his head on top of yours.

“I know…and you’re the best Captain any of us could have asked for. In all honestly, I don't even think we deserve you.” And then in a quieter voice, he whispers, “I, don't deserve you.” You frown, heart dropping a little at his words.

“Hey, don’t say that. What’s a Captain without their trusty engineer at their side? You built this ship, remember?” He scoffs, but smiles a little at your words.

“You mean the ship that almost just killed us?” He retorts.

“No, I mean the ship that’s going to accomplish the biggest, most important mission in the past millennia.” You ruffle his hair, and you hear him giggle.

“Yea, yea. Whatever…” He takes the hand that messed up his hair, and holds it in his own. You two sit together like that, just enjoying each other's company.

You decide the moment was too wholesome, and almost out of nowhere, say, “You know Mark, this is why the crew think we’re together-” He sputters, eyes widening. You cackle at his reaction, glad you could finally get back at him for embarrassing you earlier. “Seriously, Tyler said that half the crew thinks we’re dating.” His mouth opens and closes, still in a state of shock at your words. Finally, he shakes his head, and now recovered from the surprise of your words, a cocky smile forms on his lips.

“Captain!” He says in an overdramatic voice. “Is this your way of asking me out?” Damn this man and his ability to make you flustered.

You hesitate a moment, a little nervous you might have been reading things wrong. “Would you say yes if it was?” He laughs, and you just become more confused. Please, oh please, don’t tell me I read this wrong.

“Captain, it really is astounding how oblivious you are to how much people adore you. Of course I’d say yes! It would be a fucking honor to go on a date with you!” Your eyes widen, but you smile ear to ear. Filled with excitement at his words, and just to get back at him one more time, you tilt your face upwards, and plant a little kiss on his jaw, before snuggling back into the crook of his neck. Mark instantly becomes a stuttering mess, and you giggle as can feel your eyelids get heavy again. Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt. The Invincible II would be ok as long as you had your adorable idiot of an engineer by your side.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    

[luimagines]

He reacts to seeing you Sick/Wounded Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Scenario under the cut! Blood ahead so be warned.

Twilight

Twilight looked around the group for what had to be the umpteenth time, searching for you.

You had left awhile ago and had yet to return.

If it was Wild or Hyrule he wouldn’t have put much thought into it. The two of them were notorious for wandering off if something shiny caught their eye and they could be gone for hours.

Not you though.

If anything, you were the one to insist on keeping the group together and to avoid “splitting the party”. as you’d say. You even had a song to go with it, a catchy little tune from your world and he caught himself humming under his breath more than once when he realize someone was gone.

But you were gone long enough now that you even missed a meal.

Twilight started bouncing his knee in anticipation, the worse scenarios coming to mind at what could be happening to you.

“I’m going to find them.” He said, standing up and walking away from the group.

He waits until he’s far enough away to take out the necklace he’s been carrying around since the start of this adventure.

Twilight activates the charm and feels the magic wash over him, his vision and senses sharpening as the worlds color fade and his perspective changes.

There’s always a little discomfort as the beginning of each transformation so he takes a second to compose himself.

Twilight then starts sniffing the air and catches your scent, following where it leads. The path is pretty straight forward and he can almost reconstruct how long it took for you to reach the destination. Twilight travels a little farther than he was expecting, it’s way farther than hearing range, even with his advanced ears.

It’s a little concerning because even if you were to scream for help, there’s no way any of them would have known.

He’s trying to be optimistic. Twilight has seen you fight. He has seen you treat your own wounds. He was personally seen your resourcefulness in tricky situations. There’s little, he thinks, that can actually keep you down.

But then his worst nightmare comes to his nose and he takes off in a sprint. 

It’s blood.

It’s yours.

And there’s a lot of it.

He follows it as far as he can until he hears a pained whimper.

Twilight then follows the sound and comes to a stop, shocked at the sight before him.

You’re sitting up against a tree, the top half of you looks fine if only a little ragged and there’s tear streaks down both your cheeks. Twilight follows the line of your body and sees that there’s no injuries on your arms or torso even if your hands are covered in blood.

But at sight of your leg, he knows what’s happened.

There has to be people nearby, that’s the only explanation.

It’s metal trap with sharp jagged teeth that penetrate the skin and muscle in order to keep the prey from escaping, and they’re incredibly hard to break out of if you don’t have the right equipment. They’re also known for breaking bones if they hit in the right places.

It’s also clamed just above your ankle, blood weeps through still and has travels through the fabric of your pants un to your knee, pronouncing the injury even more.

“Wolfie...” You whimper and try to smile at seeing him. “Yay, you found me. I knew you’d come get me at some point. I tried calling but I think I’m too far away.”

Twilight’s heart bleeds for you and how scared you must have been before he showed up. And he wishes he would have gone looking for you sooner.

You sniffle and whip your face and nose with your sleeve, avoiding the mess on your hands. “I can’t get out. I tried but it’s stuck.” 

Twilight pads closer and sticks his nose by your hands but you pull them back. “I know it looks bad but my hands aren’t hurt...It’s all from my leg. I don’t want to get blood on your pretty fur.”

Twilight doesn’t take time to process the compliment and instead is focused on the choice he has in front of him.

Transform and reveal his secret to you, enabling him to help you here and now or go back and get help, leaving you to the mercy of whatever finds you in your vulnerable state.

It’s a pretty easy choice actually.

Twilight calls off the magic and lets the transformation wash over him. As per usual, the change is disorienting and it’s always hurt more to turn back human than it did to change into a wolf, so he takes a moment to breath before he looks at your ankle.

“Tw-Twilight? You’re Wolfie?” You splutter and try to wrap your head around what you just saw.  “It’s been you this whole time?!”

But he’s ignoring you.

He takes a good look at where the trap is and begins to prod ever so slightly.

“H-HEY!” You cry and try to reach for him. “Don’t! It hurts!”

He doesn’t have the key to unlock it and he doesn’t have the right tools at his disposal to try and pick the lock.

“Twilight please say something.”

“I’m going to get you out. Just hold on a little longer.” He glares at the metal for a moment before placing both his hands around it.

If there’s one thing he’s always been confident in, it’s his strength.

With both hands secured on the device he forces all of his weight to pry it open. He ignores how you continue to make sounds of pain, how his finger tips immediately become moist with your blood and how difficult moving this stupid thing to get you free actually turns out to be. 

After a battle of wills between man and the artificial, it moves and he tilts his hands to keep the momentum going until he’s moved enough of it for you to pull your leg out.

“Go. Get out.” He says with the strain in his voice.

You push away with your hands and your good leg to the best of your ability and slowly (well slower than Twilight would have preferred) to move your leg out of the trap and far enough away where he can simply let it clamp on itself again without fear of losing any fingers or hurting you again.

You gulp and try to move your pant leg to see the damage but it’s clear that doing that hurts you as well.

Twilight it quick to cut off the fabric with his trusted pocket knife and he peels it away.

Bones have definitely been broken.

And there’s certainly a lot of blood to deal with.

He twists the fabric slightly and wraps it above and around your injury to try and stop the flow of blood. Twilight can feel the glare he’s giving to your wound and refuses to look you in face so you can see it.

“Twilight?” You call to him. Your voice is small, weak, tired and afraid.

He can’t leave you to your own thoughts like he wants to so he takes a breath to calm himself and looks at you with as much gentleness and care as he can currently muster.

“You’re going to be just fine, ok?” He says with a small smile. “You’re actually pretty far from the others so it’ll be a bit of a trip but then we’ll get Hyrule to look at you, clean you up... find you some new clothes... You’ll be back to where you were in no time.”

Twilight’s not sure who he’s trying to convinced. It looks deep.

He hopes your foot won’t need to be cut off and that infection hasn’t already set in.

He moves towards you and stops on your good side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. In one swift movement he hooks his other arm under your knees and picks you up bridal style and begin to walk away from the mess.

You sniffle again and wipe your bloodied hands on your shirt. “Thank you Twilight.” You say. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Well you’re going to have to tell one of us what happened.” He responds. “The other are going to ask what on earth happened to you.”

“I meant about you being Wolfie.” You smile. “I’m fully prepared to explain my stupid decisions.”

The easy way you make that claim nearly makes him skip a step and send you both to the ground but Twilight is quick to readjust himself so that it never happens.

He had actually forgotten about that.

“I’d appreciate that.” He nervously chuckles.

“Don’t worry. I’ll cover you when you’re gone. I was starting to suspect something was related because your stories never matched up but I had no proof and no idea where to start. You’re... really not the best at it.” You say and pat his head. “So you save me, I save you. Sound fair?”

“That works for me.”

Time

Time had let Warrior lead the group because he seemed to be the most familiar with the terrain, even if he claims that this isn’t his Hyrule.

With someone capable taking the point, he hung back and let the other walk before him.

He had noticed that you were... weren’t yourself. Like you were hiding something.

You weren’t really interacting with anyone, and you kept your head down, something he hasn’t really known you to do. On another note, you were actually at the back of the group where he was currently stationed.

You always liked to be in the upper middle, talking and entertaining the younger ones and keeping up the group’s moral.

So the fact that you quiet and trying to go unnoticed, arms crossed and head down, worried him.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” He asked you as you walked.

You glanced up at him but you didn’t meet his eyes.

Something was wrong.

“I’m not really thinking about much of anything.” You admitted and shrugged. “I’m just a bit under the weather. I’ll be fine in a bit.”

“You don’t feel good?” Time frowns and stops the both of you with a hand on your shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“And slow down literally everyone.” You raise an eyebrow at him and he takes a quick second to catalogue your pink cheeks and red rimmed eyes.

Something is wrong.

“It’s just a headache.” You insist. “We’re already behind by how knows how long and it’ll go away on its own. I appreciate the concern but I don’t want to be a hinderance more than anything think I am.”

“For one thing, no one thinks you’re a hinderance.” Time says, taking off his gauntlet and he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, then your cheeks and the back of your neck. “If any one of those boys has told you that, you tell me and I’ll set them straight.”

He doesn’t miss the way you lean and hum in relief from his touch.

Truthfully, you’re actually burning up more than your skin seems to show and his concern sky rockets beyond the moon and back of this proverbial saying.

“I appreciate the thought but it’s not that important.” You say and he catches the way you frown in displeasure when he pulls away.

“Who told you that?” He asks in lieu of bringing your illness to light.

“No one.”

Time frowns some more and says your name in his stern commander voice that he knows you hate.

“No one.” You insist. “No one here anyway.”

From your previous adventure perhaps? Time puts the information away in the back of his mind and vows to vanquish the thoughts from your head when he can, but your health takes precedence right now.

“I think it’s about time to take a break anyway.” Time puts his gauntlet back on and begins to walk forward, leading you with a hand on the small of your back. “Maybe the Champion would be willing to make something for lunch.”

“Think he can cook something up for my headache?” You sigh and massage your temples in a way that seems reminiscent.

“That and more, if you ask him.” He replies easily and lets out a loud whistle that has become their cue to set up for the midday break.

It takes a while for your duo to make it to the others but at least you weren’t so far gone that no one would have heard Time’s signal.

You instantly take a step down and sit on the ground, cradling your head in a way that looks more like you’re crying than merely resting.

Time feels his heart clench at the sight and makes his way over to Wild. He tells them what he found out and asks if he can make something special for you. Something to keep you going.

Because as much as he wants to, this is not the place to stop for the night and with your pride on the line, he doesn’t want the others to crowd and bring more attention than you’d be comfortable with to your predicament.

“There’s a town about three hours from here.” Warrior’s speaks up, having eavesdropped on the conversation Time was trying to have on the down low. “We can hit it before night fall and let them rest in an actual bed for the night.”

Time nods and agree with the notion.

The others seem to catch on that you’re not feeling well and Time discourages them from getting closer than they should, less they get sick as well.

The break is quiet and uneventful for a change and Time is quick to get the group up and moving again when it’s over, choosing to keep you company on the way to the town and trying to make it as painless and comfortable for you as he can.

A part of him thinks that he should just swallow his pride and yours and carry you to the town as you deteriorate on the walk, but it’s not like you’d let him.

He’d just have to satisfy his concern when he eventually takes watch over your bed side, just to make sure you wake up feeling better.

Wind

Wind was sure that you’re hiding something.

You’ve been shifty eyed and nervous, jittery and uncollected.

So unlike the you that he’s come to know, rely on and appreciate.

It scares him a little, to see you so unlike yourself.

Wind makes a calculated guess on why you’re so weird after walking by your side for most of the journey. 

You’re hurt and trying to not let anyone else know.

He can tell by how you’re trying to curl in yourself and fold over but have to keep righting your position. You’re having to walk with one foot on your toes because if you tried any more normally, you’d be limping. You’re a bit slower than your usual walking pace but you’ve been arcing your stride a little to the side so that it matches in length what you wouldn’t be able to make up for in number of steps.

He’s almost impressed by how well you’ve been hiding it.

But it’s drowned out by the irritation of your stubbornness. You could have just told someone, anyone, and they’d help you in seconds. You wouldn’t have to be in pain or having to stop every other second to hide a wince or a grunt or-

Wind is this close to just stopping everything to scream in your face.

He takes a small glance over to you as you walk, and sighs. He knows you won’t listen to him if he tries to say something. And you’d probably be irritated at him instead for trying to make a fuss about it.

Wind doesn’t know what to do, or how to help you, without being pushed away.

You trip.

Wind is too shocked by the outcome to even try to stop you from falling face first into the ground. 

Ok, not face first. You manage to twist yourself just in time to avoid a face on collision, but you land on your side in the process.

Your bad side.

You yell in pain which alerts the whole group ahead and behind you. But you don’t seem to care about that anymore. You finally give into the urge and curl in on yourself, rolling over so that the ground is against your good side and nothing is irritating whatever hit you’ve been hiding.

Wind has to nearly smack himself out of it before he makes it to your side. He can hear the other catching up, their footsteps thundering mutely on the dirt but he’s more focused on you and where your hand seems to be cradling your side.

He’s quick to peel your hand off and lift your shirt.

You’re too shocked and stunned from the pain to stop him. Enough so that you’re brain doesn’t even register it, so you don’t fight back.

He gasps at the the sight and his stomach turns ever so slightly.

It’s a massive bruise, from up to your ribs that are highlighted in a toxic green, down to your hip and it’s not even black and blue. It’s so bad there’s more red on the surface than purple and it makes it look like you’re covered in blood even if the skin hasn’t been breached.

He knows what caused this. 

Two days ago the group had found themselves in the middle of a fight with not one, but three infected monsters and one of them had a nasty looking club. You were fighting with him and on one of them and had taken a hit directly to your side. It was strong enough that it sent you spinning through the air and right into a tree. He didn’t think much of it since you simply bounced back like nothing happened and proceeded to stab the thing through the skull, but if he tries hard enough, he think you hit the same side on the tree as well.

But you didn’t drink a potion, he doesn’t think he even saw you being healed by Hyrule. Which means that you just had this on you for so long and you just- weren’t going to tell anyone?!

Wind can feel his heart clench in tandem with his first, your shirt nearly ripping since it was trapped in between his fingers. “HYRULE!”

“What happened?” Warrior makes it to his side first and stops mid-step when he catches sight of it. “I’ll... go get the Traveler.”

There’s a few seconds in between before you shake off the pain and rip your clothes out of his grip, forcing yourself to get to your feet again.

Everyone is too shocked by what they’ve seen verses how you’ve acting that they almost let you but Wind has been next to you, watching you, and he still is. He catches that your arms are shaking as you put your weight on it, and when you try and compensate for your bad side, you nearly throw yourself over again from your bad balance.

Wind pushes you back down and keeps his hands on your shoulders so keep you from trying that again.

Hyrule takes his cue and slides on his knees until he reaches your side, his healing spell fluttering around his fingers and into the nasty bruise.

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Cut the bullcrap.” Wind says, knowing that Twilight and Time are behind him with Sky not too far behind. He hopes they let that one slide at least. “It’s looks like you were stabbed fifty seven times and poisoned to top of it all.”

You look up at him then and sigh, the fight leaving instantaneously. “Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever!” He argues but you cut him off.

“It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal in a few days and nothing is broken. But because it’s you holding me down, I’ll let you heal me.” You try for a half smile but Wind thinks it falls flat. “I’m not even going to try and fight a pirate in my state. Take your victory for now.”

“You didn’t have to let it get so bad.” Hyrule scolds you and you don’t even have the decency of at least looking apologetic.

“It was the fall that really made it hurt.” You clench your jaw when your shirt gets lifted higher for Hyrule to heal the bruise on your ribs. “It was just awkward before that.”

“No it wasn’t” Wind frowns even harder. “You were walking funny. It hurt like hell back there too and for a while as well. Why didn’t you get treatment with the others? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wind.” You say with as much patience you can muster. Your face begins to relax as the pain fades and the bruise changes to a more normal shade of purple with black spots. “We have no potions left. And Hyrule can only do so much healing in one go.”

“Speaking of...” Legend steps in and yanks Hyrule back by the shoulder, stopping the healing process.

Hyrule takes a minute to reorient himself and he steps away from a minute to catch his breath.

Wind takes another look at your injury and winces. While it looks significantly better than it did seconds prior, it’s not completely healed and would likely have to take more magic to heal on its own. They could just leave it there for the days it’ll take for it to heal naturally but Wind doesn’t like the idea of leaving you hurt for more than necessary.

“How were none of your bones broken?” Twilight asks in a quiet shocked voice.

“Oh no, there were many fractures, believe me.” Hyrule shakes his head. “Mostly minor but it’s crazy how they were able to still be standing, let alone walking. Didn’t any of that hurt?”

Wind takes a sharp breath and has to look away from you. 

You were really good at hiding it then.

He misses the pained look on your face as he turns away and can’t see the hand you reach out to him. “Wind?”

“No.” He gulps and stand up. “This isn’t ok. You can’t do this. Say something next time, or I’ll never speak to you again.”

The second he says it, he feel childish for coming up with that threat in particular and while he wishes that there’ll never be a next time, he knows better.

Occupational hazard and all that jazz.

Your face morphs into one of sadness and you take your hand back. “Ok. Ok. I’ll be better next time.”

He supposes the threat worked after all.

[lovelyjasmari]

Twisted Wonderland Reaction Part 14 ~ STOP PERCIEVING ME Edition

Hello everyone!

So I debated on weather to make a post abt this part of book 5 but I decided to anyway cause I have some kinda strong emotions abt it that I have to get out, preferably soon before the  en discourse begins to set in and I risk being nuked off the internet. Next reaction post will be 90% blind so there’s that. 

Warning: Pic heavy, swearing, emotional musings, slight Epel slander,  Vil simping and mention of my ocs (I try to keep it at a minimum). Also TW: Slight mentions of homophobia and my personal experiences with gender dysmorphia. 

Bonjour Honey!!! If you understand that reference, congratulations!! You have unlocked level 200 friendship access to me, please DM me to claim your prize~

Seriously are there no ad-blockers in Twisted Wonderland?!

I’ll say it once, I’ll say it again, Disney missed a huge opportunity playing it safe with Neige’s design and I hate them for it. Especially when we get to his SDC song. No spoilers but it’s pretty bad and I’m not just saying that cause I’m a Vil simp. 

Rook, sweetie, I usually love everything that comes from your mouth but this instant, kindly shut the hell up. You always struck me as someone who would appreciate beauty that is more dynamic and compelling and not so transient, please don’t fail me! 

And this right here, this is the seed Vil planted resulting in me really respecting and admiring him as a character. Carry on, my Pomefiore queen, crush Epel’s toxic way of thinking. We stan. 💙

Uhhh...it’s sounding like you wouldn’t mind that. Not that I’m judging. We don’t kinkshame in this house, for the most part. 😅

Ohhhh Kalim, my sweet sunshine, nice save cause Vil was really about to dropkick you here. And I’d probably let him too...

You truly are the fairest one of my heart. Now and forever. 💙

But seriously, these chapters really made me feel for Vil. I can appreciate the frustration he has of the world perceiving him in a certain way and then punishing him for those false assumptions. Especially since he seems not to be truly cruel, just incredibly tenacious. I’ve been suffering from people’s false assumptions of me for most of my life and I’ve yet to find a way to make people see who I truly am. But I think I could learn not to care about what they think, if I could one day be as radiant as Vil. 

More character development for my sunshine child! And for personal reasons that I’ve mentioned before, this moment made me even happier because it shows that even Kalim is capable of this level of introspection. It really makes me curious and excited for how his and Jamil’s relationship will develop in the future. 

Shut the fuck up Grim! Before I beat your ass with a stick! Christ, we’re having a deep moment and you had to ruin it with your fucking one track mind! You are seriously the worst! (half serious, half affectionate)

This cannot end well...

Your gluttony will be the doom of us all...

Everyone’s gansta ‘till Vil pulls out the ara ara~

👀👀👀 *bonks myself with my own stick* 

YESSIR!

OH FUCK NO! I CHANGED MY MIND VIL! I’LL SLEEP ON THE LOUNGE FLOOR WITH THE IDIOTS! THE SLEEP PARALYSIS RAT IS BACK!

Yes I can but I really wish I wasn’t. Also, Mickey having his OG design really throws a wrench in my Unreality theory I was working from for Yuulan’s storyline...not that I’m gonna fix it at this point though. 

Okay, WHO THE FUCK designed this new twistune?! Cause I’d like to have a word with them! No anger, just wanna talk cause I can usually SS most twistunes on easy and normal but this?! I JUST WANNA TALK

No not really, he was too busy pissing Danica off and she finally had enough...

Okay, so this was the moment that made me REALLY wanna punch Epel in the face and lowkey why I’m not pulling for him this week. The translation is also toned down some so if you understand what he’s saying, Epel comes off as VERY misogynistic here. It’s clear he’s dealing with some serious homophobia and by homophobia, I don’t mean hatred of gay people, I mean actual fear of being perceived in a feminine way which is just as bad (is there a word for that?Cause I know homophobia isn’t the one I’m looking for). Especially since some of his personal stories have shown that Epel does genuinely have some more feminine-perceived interests like embroidery, apple carving, etc. 

Once again, Vil is the right one in this situation. He can see Epel’s potential but because that potential is tied to society’s narrow perception of weakness and strength, Epel himself does not see it. Oddly enough, this is an issue that many of my female ocs deal with. Many of my main girls are very feminine and charming but they also posses incredible strength in various ways. Most of their stories focus on them balancing their strength with their femininity without forsaking their femininity all together. I don’t often see these kinds of stories in media but since I've struggled with my womanhood for so long, my characters are all the more important to me. Because strength is not mutually a masculine trait and there is power in grace. 

And I know some people have interpreted Vil’s actions and words towards Epel as harsh and even abusive but I don’t really.  As someone who has dealt with some serious gender related trauma and dysmorphia in the past, I really take issue with Epel’s comments here. Frankly, I feel like these ignorant societal notions cause as much dysmorphia in people as anything else. So I really cannot tolerate it. What’s more, I don’t really think Vil is trying to force Epel to change how he is, nor does he have contempt for Epel as he is, but he is trying to change his narrow way of thinking which is what’s REALLY holding Epel back. I’ll explain this further in a moment. 

I actually like blastcycle better than magic wheel, every now and then EN makes a translation choice that isn’t totally out there.

Awww, Ii really love Deuce and Epel’s interactions. There’s nothing heterosexual about them but that’s okay! ❤

DISNEYLAND!!!

Dumbass (highly affectionate)

Sweet, filthy farm child (also highly affectionate)

Another reason why I really haven’t taken issue with Vil’s actions yet. Even though he is harsh, Epel isn’t all in the right either and has some serious prejudices against certain types of people. Even after Vil vibe checks him more than a few times, he still hasn’t gotten what he’s trying to convey to him. He’s pretty hardheaded and sometimes gentle guidance doesn’t remedy that. 

If I’m being truly honest, out of all the boys who have OB so far, Vil IMO has been the LEAST problematic. I probably would not be saying that if it weren’t for some of the very specific experiences I’ve had in my life but really, Vil doesn’t seem genuinely cruel or malicious or even sus. Even Jamil was just a little sus though his grievances were equally as justified as Vil’s (but he went about things not in the best of ways). Now that may change since I stopped reading Book 5 at a certain point but as of now, if Vil is wrong for how he’s treated Epel, then Epel is just as wrong for his hardheadedness. 

But I want to make it clear I DO NOT DISLIKE EPEL AS A CHARACTER. His way of thinking is pretty common in more rural and conservative areas bible belt states and its only when some people grow up that they take on a different POV. And Epel probably has the same issue as Vil, being perceived a certain way by society and being punished for it. Hopefully with what Vil did for Epel’s family, he will soon understand what Vil has been trying to teach him. 

SEE?! HE IS LEARNING!!! 💖💖💖😊😊😊

OH GOD! FUCKING JUMPSCARE! They’re so sorry, Vil-san! Please don’t be too hard on them! They’re knuckleheads but they know better now! Have mercy!!

Ahhhhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh, oh god, is that who I think it is?? Does this mean...

MY DARLING DRAGON HUSBAND!! I squeezed my Malleus plushie so hard when he appeared! 💚

Really, if Lilia hadn’t run off so fast at the end of Book 4, I would have invited him to our holiday feast too! But concert tickets will have to suffice for now, please come over for ice cream when it gets warmer! 

Awww, he wanted to see us perform, he really is simping hard for MC and it’s adorable!

Goodnight, sweet prince. And with that, we conclude Book 5 part 2. Next time shit will likely hit the fan fast and hard and from what some of my friends playing JP have told me, it will hurt. So let’s enjoy this sweet reprieve for as long a we can. After the emotional roller coaster I’ve just had, I’m so happy I was able to make Malleus smile like this. 💚💚💚

[statticscribbles]

Dirty Thoughts

Summary: Steve Rogers/Reader using the song Dirty Thoughts by Chloe Adams; maybe with reader/steve meeting up after a mission and there's smut of some kind, reader dirty talking

Tw: smut

@xxromanoffxx

”Y/N; sorry you busy..” You curse Steve for his timing and turn pulling the shirt over your head.

“No I'm free, what’s up?”

“Uh; Clint needed, he was saying something about a mission. You in?”

“Sure let me just…” Before you finish he turns and almost lunges towards the common room; you’re a little confused until you sit down realizing you’re just in your underwear from your waist down after your shower.

”Y/N what took you so long? fantasizing about Cap being with you.”

“Tony, don't be a dick.”

“Aww come on they’re the only new couple I can tease!! I can’t tease Pepper cause I’m part of that and Clint and Nat are both terrifying.”

“What about Bruce and Betty?”

“They were together before hulk; so they’re old news.” Tony laughs already moving on to some other joke; you’re not embarrassed; you were thinking of Steve but you’re sure as hell not going to let anyone know that. The most you and Steve had done was make-out and the last thing you wanted to be accused of was corrupting a national treasure.

“Seriously! Y/N you have to tell us, you got a new one right?” Natasha had convinced you both to have a few drinks after the mission went so well. Everyone else was in bed as far as you knew; it was at least two am. Steve furrows his brow leaning against the door where he knows you can’t see him as you giggle and lean over Nat trying to shush her.

“Nat noooo, I got a new one… but it’s a secret!” You giggle again, swigging down the rest of your drink and laying your head on her chest.

“You’re comfy, I’m going to nap for a minute…”

“Okay, but first tell me what you named your new vibrator..”

“Named it after him..” You mumble and Steve’s incredibly pleased that his hearing is enhanced.

“Who is him?” She playfully shoves your shoulder.

“You’re gonna make me say it?!” You shout and then wince covering your ears and curling against Natasha.

“Say it, what’s his name..”

“Steve.” You mumble; you keep your face pressed into the pillow Natasha has given you when she ‘d pushed you off her. You miss the way she shoots a thumbs up and a wink to Steve who vanishes before you lift your head up.

“Nat I’m never drinking with you again. This was a horrible idea.”

”Hey YN; can we talk?”

“Yeah; about what?” You’re a little worried that there was something wrong with the upcoming mission he was going on.

“I heard you and Natasha talking last night.” You can feel the heat coming off your face.

“You shouldn’t; I mean you can; but you can use me instead..” You just blink at him.

“Use you?” He nods, face flushed a little as he scoots forward, hand resting on your thigh.

“Do you think about me at night?”

“Do you?” You can only sort of stutter out and Steve swallows looking away for a second.

“More than I should.”

You know you shouldn’t have been teasing him so much. Having just gotten back from a mission you knew he was aching for you just as much as you were for him. Still, you felt he deserved this, having ignored you in favor of a shower and then he called the mission de-brief right after, only giving you a quick kiss and the promise of something later. You had made a point of wandering in front of him after that, swishing your skirt just enough where you knew he saw slightly too much skin. You wink at him and peer around to make sure no one's watching before you flash him quickly. His jaw sets and his face darkens slightly before he cocks a smile.

“Missed you too baby-doll.” You turn back retreating to your room hoping he follows. He makes a point of setting the meeting up earlier.

He’s resting his hands above your hips, his fingers digging in only slightly. Anyone else would miss this. You’re sure no one notices the way his hands tighten around you as he rocks you back and forth over his thigh. He leans over pretending to read something from the sheet as he mumbles into your ear.

“You don’t get to finish till the meeting does doll.” You gasp a little nodding slightly as he pulls you against his chest. One of his hands leaves your hip and you’re about to whine but it’s cut off as his hands slides under your skirt. He hums in approval and you can only guess how wet you feel to him. He bounces his leg an excuse for him to slip two fingers into you as you whimper a little. He shifts you against his thigh again and chuckles as you grind down on his fingers.

“I was thinking we could discuss some strategy for the next mission you guys have; Sam you were saying something about your wings needing to be a little more compact?”

Support My Writing?

[plume-pigmented-pili]

Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

[kyberconfessions]

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. Part 4

Hello All! Sorry for the delay! My Hubby and I have had a busy month of July and I wasn’t able to keep to my schedule like I wanted too. Sorry about that. From Baseball games to Comic-Cons to Disney trips, we’ve been stupid busy. I am working furiously on the other chapters and hope to at least have some words on Cody soon! Y’all, not going to lie, the fact that there has been ZERO mention of him on The Bad Batch is killing me.

As Always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and deals with anxiety, death, sex,  PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 4: It’s You.

You waited with your back to the door on Hondo's ship; another one was docked right outside, carrying the crew that had something either of you wanted. You took a deep breath, adjusting your blaster in your thigh holster and checking over your clothes before putting on your helmet. The base of it was a black Ubese helmet, edged with black dyed bantha hair and painted to resemble a Kaleesh skull in white.  The edges of the white skull were rimmed in a dark red and the faux eyes were painted an electric green, almost making them glow.The breather of the helmet was pointed down, tapering at the end and etched with designs reminiscent of a certain Kel Dor. Twin points also came down from the sides,  once again resembling a Kel Dor breather, but painted to look like the fangs of the Kaleesh skull. When you wore it, you were an incredibly fearsome sight to behold. 

Hondo had stepped out of the cockpit while brushing off his clothes, but when he saw you he went on and on in a poetic manner making you snort behind your mask, "Pretty Lady must you put on that horrid thing? How am I supposed to gaze upon your beautiful Visage? How am I to write songs of your shiny eyes if you insist on covering them? How am I to chant loudly into the heavens about the glory of your smile when all I see is that ugly thing staring back at me?" 

The sound that came out of the modulator was a loud crack of static. It wasn't lost on him though, and he waggled his brow at you, knowing he made you laugh.

"Hondo, one of these days I'm going to launch you out of an airlock. Then you'll be Wild Space's problem."

He laughed loudly, but before he could give a retort, the door-lock opened and the crew from the other ship began to board.

Immediately the hair on your neck stood up and your hackles raised. It was time to go into heartless bounty hunter mode, another mask that became easier and easier for you to put on.

Hondo noticed your posture change and went to greet whoever had come aboard, stepping in front of your turned back. Whether it was to hide his best and most terrifying asset or to put space between you and them for your sake, you never knew. You liked to think it was his way of still protecting you, even after all these years. It probably was.

"My friends! My friends! So good to see you again! Ezra Bridger! It has been too long!" 

You heard the cacophony of voices greeting him in a less than enthusiastic excitement. If these people were your friends, you would have laughed again. But you didn't have friends.     From the sound of it, there were four people behind you. Nothing difficult to take down, but not something you should be careless with. There was something off about one of them though, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but they were...familiar.

"Allow me for introductions! This tall, imposing creature behind me is my associate, bodyguard, smuggler, chief pilot, chief mechanic, artistic muse, platonic soulmate, oldest friend, and beautifully deadly bounty hunter, all rolled into one.  And this band of colorful characters are the crew of the infamous Ghost!" Hondo waved his hands in a grandiose manner between the group and your back; this was a well rehearsed situation that you both had done several times, though for whatever reason, he decided to over exaggerate your titles. Normally he would do the talking and you would scare the clientele. And if you had too, if they had something that you knew belonged to them, you'd kill them. Nothing would keep you from the last remnants of the ones you loved and lost.

"Ahh, Hondo? Does your associate have a name? Or talk? Are they even awake? Are they just going to stand there?" You heard a boy's voice, a cockiness only found in the young lacing every word. 

"Ezra." A woman, probably someone important, chastised the boy.

You waited for Hondo's signal for you to turn, but the door opened once more and you heard one more set of boots and something soft, furry, stepping across the steel. A voice spoke. A Lassat. Dangerous creatures, you had seen a few when you were still a young Padawan with your old Master. Before the war. Before they died. Back when your biggest concern was the eventual Trials. You knew a fight wasn't going to be easy and you hated the idea of killing an already dying race. But you would if you had too.

The Lassat male was arguing with someone about something, but you weren't paying attention.

Hondo touched your shoulder softly, your signal to turn. He had spent the time making pleasantries and lulling them into a false sense of comfort, probably. He could have been talking about the weather on Jakku for all you cared. You were more concerned about making sure the straps on your holsters were open, giving you easy access to draw.

Slowly you moved, letting them see just how dangerous you were, how in control of your body you were, how much they should fear the creature behind the helmet. But, you halted mid spin.

All of the blood drained from your face, your mouth went dry, your throat tightened up, and you were overcome with such anger and gut wrenching sorrow you thought you would snap.

The man that walked in with the Lessat was wearing HIS armor. The armor you had spent 15 years looking for.

You blanked. 

Somewhere there was yelling and cries to stop, but you couldn't make it out. Your head was spinning and it felt like there was cotton in your ears and as tunnel vision took over, everything knocked your senses for a loop. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but you grabbed both your blasters, turned fully, and pointed them at the man. Half the crew jumped out of the way, the others pointed their weapons at you, and Hondo tried to reason with both sides, standing with his back to you while the man had his own blasters trained on your head. Hondo quickly got out of the way of the four barrels, still trying to diffuse the situation. You couldn't understand what he was saying, everything sounded so dull and muted.

No, wait. Those weren't just any blasters. You would know those DC-17s anywhere. 

"HOW DARE YOU!"

 Someone was screaming. You couldn’t tell who it was or where it was coming from. It was garbled and cracking, a mechanical sound. It hurt your head. You just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment. But the world kept spinning and you felt like you were going to pass out any moment. You just wanted everything to be quiet, you needed to think, you just wanted a moment to figure out what was going on. Why was it so loud? Why did everything hurt? You just wanted everyone to just be still. Just be still, if only for a second. 

You could feel your breathing pick up, that tightening fear in your chest, that ache that gripped your heart and threatened to pull it from your body. ‘Just be quiet, please, please, be quiet. I can’t...I need to think, I need to think..’

"HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS HELM!” More screaming,  “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO HE WAS?! DO YOU?! HOW DARE YOU WEAR HIS ARMOR AS YOUR OWN! HOW DARE YOU STAND THERE AND KNOW NOTHING OF HIM!" Maker, the screaming was coming from you. You were yelling at him, venomous spit falling from your mouth, words meant to shame and kill. Your blasters were trained on his chest, fingers laying on the triggers. 

"TAKE IT OFF OR I WILL RIP IT FROM YOUR BROKEN CORPSE!"

You could feel something wet on your cheeks but you didn't know what it was or where it came from.  Did this man kill Rex?! Did he rip his beloved armor from his broken body? Did he leave him to rot in some cursed field? Or did he just take it from his already forgotten skeleton? Your heart beat a mile a minute, you were sweating and your whole body shook in anger, but your hands never wavered, blasters trained perfectly on the man. How dare this cretin dishonor Rex, dishonor his memory. 

"YOU WILL NEVER INSULT HIS MEMORY AGAIN! TAKE IT OFF!!"

You were panting and your modulator was straining under the volume of your voice.

No one lowered their weapons. No one spoke. No one moved a muscle. All that could be heard were your wheezing sobs through the helm.

 There was a beat. And then another. And then the man did something unexpected.

You just knew you were going to have to kill everyone. You just knew you were going to peel bloodied, beloved armor from some backwater nothing. 

But when he slowly lowered his arms, holstering the DC-17s, you faltered. Was he giving up so easily? Perhaps he didn't want bloodshed after all. Good. But it didn't make you lower yours. Nor did it make the others lower theirs.

Slowly, like he was trying to coax a scared lothcat, the man raised his open hands to the old helm covered in hatch marks with jaig eyes and pulled it off. 

First you saw weathered skin tanned from the sun, a white beard trimmed nicely, then a strong nose and finally golden eyes, eyes you had seen a million times before. Eyes that haunted you every time you went to sleep. Eyes you thought you would never see again.

When he had taken the helm completely off and tucked it under his arm, he spoke. And everything inside of you shattered.

"My name is Rex. Captain of 501st regiment in the Grand Army of the Republic. This is my armor that was issued to me almost 20 years ago. I don't know who you think I am, but I can assure you, this is my armor."

The others watched you, weapons trained. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed. You, on the other hand, felt everything rushing back at you full force. When he spoke, his voice was a punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to hyperventilate.  Your blasters, still trained on him, began to shake violently in your hands.

You were panting and your eyes blurred from all of the new tears. Panic rose high in your throat, cutting off your breathing. It can’t be. How could it be? He died. The Empire recorded him dying after Mandalore. You were there, you saw the absolute destruction. No one survived that.

Involuntarily you dropped your weapons and they clattered loudly to the durasteel ground, but your arms were still stretched out, still holding onto phantom guns. 

You inhaled sharply, your modulator cracking in a loud hiss. Slowly, trying to control the tremors that wracked your body, you moved your hands to your own helm and unlatched the buckles on the sides. There was another hiss as the airtight seals released the pressure and vented.

"What's going on..." the young boy started. "Hush, Ezra Bridger." Hondo cut him off, silencing him with a hand on his shoulder as you and Rex stared one another down.

You lifted your helm up and then let it fall to the floor, a loud clank shaking the silence between you all.

Rex sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh shudder, his mouth hanging open. "Mesh'la," he whispered; he could feel his knees giving out, causing him to stumble forward and push his way through his crew.

His eyes were as wide as saucers and glistening. Fat, heavy tears tracked down his face and fell into his beard as he reached shaking hands out to you. He paused for a moment, afraid that if he touched you, you would disappear like every dream before. But carefully his hands gripped your face, gently turning it side to side, taking in the scars and faint crows feet and wisps of grey hairs you now sported. Your age and harsh life showed, but you were still just as beautiful, just as ageless, just as perfect as he remembered. Still the same eyes that he dreamed of every night. 

You couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and every nerve ending burned. You could hear your blood pumping in your ears, creating a painful rush like being thrown under the oceans. Every part of you felt like it was on fire. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t move. Slowly your shaking hands gripped his wrists and held him close. Your body tried to take a shuddering breath, but it only came out as a choked sob while you squeezed your eyes shut.

As the noise left you, Rex pulled you close, his mouth over taking yours in a passionate kiss, full of tongue and teeth. Your hands left his wrists and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to hold your face.

"Rex. I thought....I thought you were...Rex," you whispered into his lips between kisses.

"I searched for you, Cyare. I looked everywhere. I thought you died. I thought Cody.."

Your breath hitched at his name, making Rex pull you impossibly closer. You both stood there, wrapped in eachothers arms, crying, kissing, whispering love to one another, completely oblivious to the others. 

You weren't sure if your knees failed you, or if it were his, but one of you fell to the floor, taking the other with them, still wrapped in each other, crying and holding on for dear life. 

The Twi'lek woman quietly ushered the others, a man and a Mandalorian girl, along with the boy and Lessat, out. Hondo followed behind, a smug smile on his face, ridiculously proud of himself, giving you both much needed privacy.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Because, it's you and me

Prompt- dancing with each other | ANGST | HURT COMFORT ( mostly hurt ) | TW- death | "When the time comes, you have to let go and when you let go, know you're not alone, because it's you and me" | lyrics used- nothing by Bruno Mars

I've written plenty marriage related danced and recently wrote a masquerade dance. I promise this will be the last dance prompt I write for a while. Here's something entirely different. I am slightly proud of this.

" hey love, I've picked up the groceries like you said, let me know if there's something you need. Love you" beep beep....

" uncle harry ?"

Harry aligned on the chair better as he saw teddy walk in with a little bag.

" how are you doing Today ?" He asked cheerfully as he sat down in front of harry on the chair preserves for him

"you ask this everyday and I'm doing fine teddy " harry chuckled huskily

" well as your very beloved godson, I have the right to ask" teddy smiled as he adjusted the radio set and put on the new tape.

" you're more than just my godson teddy and you know that " harry groaned as he picked up his legs and with much effort put them over the little stool

" I know, uncle harry " teddy smiled and he finally pulled out the paperworks

" you know we can do this anyday- I mean there's no rush " teddy awkwardly said as he strange fear settled into his heart

" I know dear. But it's about time I did this " harry smiled. Sadly yet willingly teddy took out his pens and the papers, reading out to harry, taking suggestions and making harry sign the same.

" you'll visit right ?" Harry gauntingly asked

" uncle harry- don't say that " teddy sadly frowned

" will you ?" Harry persisted

Teddy sighed, leaning down to press a kiss on Harry's forehead " of course. And I know Albus and scorpius will too" teddy assured cupping his face

" you remind me a lot of your father teddy. I miss him, even after all this time" harry sighed

" you are like my dad uncle harry, I might've never known my dad but you've been my dad and I wouldn't switch it for the world- well I mean I would've liked to know him but you know what I mean. You were the closest thing to a family for me and I don't regret it "

Harry smiled " we've raised you right"

" without a doubt "

" shall I leave the song on then ?" Teddy finally asked as his time' came to leave

" leave it on " harry rested his head against the arm chair closing his eyes and falling into little world of his memories.

" harry- come on- hey- look at me- look in my eyes and Just let your body flow " draco chuckled

" but if I look at you, then my legs wouldn't work fine. Coordination would be absurd draco. What kind of shit advice is that " harry rolled his eyes, still staring at his feets

" trust me harry. Just look at me and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine harry. It's you and me " draco smiled fondly. Harry sighed as he looked into draco's eyes and let his body flow to the music as they danced away.

" see, it's that easy. It's always easy-"

" because it's you and me " harry completed his sentence. Draco smiled at him, pressing a small kiss over his lips.

" because it's you and me " draco repeated, and he twirled harry around, breaking into little laughter in their own little paradise.

________________________________

" the blood sugar is considerably better, other reports also seem fine of course. Its mostly a fit report. Any problems and you know you have to report me immediately " the doctor smiled

" that's good then " harry struggled shifting backwards into the chair

" how long do you say ?"harry asked

" I- we can't predict that. But if this is how things are going to be, another 6 months maybe " she smiled sadly

Harry nodded, finally standing up, getting hold of his walking stick and letting himself out after bidding goodbye.

Like every other day, harry picked up some fruits from the market, visited Ron and Hermione, laughing at some old memories, going back home, reading the newspaper, cooking for himself, taking a shower, reading for another hour, sleeping for longer duration and finally would arrive evening that he'd spend away listening to old songs, checking his health, watching TV, making dinner for himself, and then go to bed.

Like every night, harry laid on the bed, wide eyed, picking up his phone and scrolling through until he Landed upon just the ones.

" honey, can you bring the monstera plant from the nursery, ours unfortunately died. love you" beep

" hey, love, I've told Albus and scorpius you're running a bit late, but try to reach here faster, if you can, we don't wanna upset them. Love you "

" hey love, I've picked up the groceries like you said, let me know if you need something. Love you "

" is- is this Working- oh it is. Hey, Darling, where the hell even are you ? It's our fucking anniversary and I maybe old but I'd still chop your penis off if- oh never mind, there you are. Wow you look still not a day old, still elegant as ever. Anyways- who you're talking to draco- love you, harry " beep

Beep... Beep..

Harry allowed a little tear to trickle down his face, playing with the ring on his finger as he remembered old days of his life passing away . He wouldn't change it for the world. He'd had everything he needed, and now he was done. He'd lived to see another day everyday, but now he just waited for another day where he won't be.

" Track suits and red wine " harry Sang lowly to himself just like they used to before

"Movies for two"

" We'll take off our phones "

" And we'll turn off our shoes "

He breathed heavily as he wiped off a single tear, still humming

" We're not making out"

"On a boat in the rain"

" Or in a house I've painted blue "

And slowly and slowly it faded until his eyes closed.

" hi harry " he whispered as he appeared in White

" d- draco- what- what are you doing here ?" Harry frowned

" it's time, babe, it has come. I'll be waiting " and he faded into the whites again with his own preserved little smile only for harry and that little dream came to an end, just like a breath.

________________________________

" yo- I can't believe you bought his radio" victoria sobbed as she leaned over his husband's shoulder, teddy.

" I know he'll need it " teddy sobbed lightly, placing it over the little engraved stones.

Scorpius broke into sobs as he hugged Albus, violently" I can't- "

" it's going to be alright " Albus replied heavily

" shall I ?" Teddy asked everyone as he sniffled wiping away his own tears with a handkerchief, getting hold of his wife's hand.

" Who needs stars?

We've got a roof

But there's nothing

Like doing nothing

With you "

The radio faded, the voice slightly branching into little audio of harry and draco of them talking and giggling from the day of their children's weddings.

" I can't believe he bought this " harry whispered, holding draco's hands.

" I can't believe you didn't know he'll bring it " Draco chuckled as they watched their kids, holding hands with each other's and placing flowers.

" we've raised them right, haven't we ?" Harry smiled fondly at draco

" we have " draco smiled

" do you think they'll be alright ?" Harry asked , slightly worried for their kids.

" I think they'll be fine " draco smiled.

They sat their for Long hours watching their kids, sitting their ideally crying In their memories, sometimes even cracking little jokes, sharing memories until the night came in and they all slowly reluctantly started leaving.

" but there's nothing" draco hummed as he danced away on top of stones with harry

" like doing nothing " harry hummed doing the same

" with you "they hummed collectively as the song finally ended and teddy packed the radio up.

" we'll miss you. You're finally with draco. Rest in peace uncle harry. To the moon and back.. " teddy whispered and with a single large tear, he walked away.

" it's finally you and me " draco whispered when everything finally went silent.

" it'll be fine " draco reassured

" because it's you and me "

" because it's you and me " and they cherished in a little kiss.

I really hope you liked this. Thank you for the incredible support In the last few days..

Requests open

Day 47- stupid Teenage crush | Day 49- 5 times Harry was a pain in the ass until he wasn't

[hotchley]

Is this the new ask tag thing? I am confused!

If it is, here are my second birthday 🎂 🎁🎈🛍 requests, as a mutual: 🌙💫💥, with Gotcha! for whichever one the song request is for. Thank you!

I think it's because my ask and submit aren't exactly clear with what they are so it's easy to mix them up! I should specify... anyways onto the requests!

🌙 and i will tell you about a scene or character trait from my novel that reminds me of you

tw: divorce

So there's a scene with Tristan and Katherine- Jonathan's younger sister. Mr Carter and Camilla have left, but it takes place after the divorce is exposed to everyone, including Katherine since she hardly knew her mum had left.

Katherine asks Tristan why their mum doesn't love her anymore. And Tristan explains that just because her mother's love was the first one she knew, it won't be the last and everything will be okay in the end because someone else will love her again and she will learn that her blood family are not everything.

You remind me of Tristan in that scene.

💫and i will tell you about my favourite fic of yours (or headcanon, depending)

Obviously it's the Into The Gotchaverse fic for Hotch's birthday! My favourite thing was the pancake making because of the references to the strawberry allergy, and overall, it was just so incredibly cute and adorable and absolutely perfect!

The kids fit their sibling placements perfectly, and I loved how everyone interacted with them because it was such a nice and cute thing to read.

💥and a ship/character and i will shuffle my playlist and create an AU with the first viable song that plays

Everything was sad, and Gotch is my one good thing that is mostly untainted by angst, so I had to shuffle several times. Got there eventually.

Fearless- Taylor Swift

I'm putting them in high school. Garcia is normally very outgoing, bubbly, does not care about what anyone thinks of her and... dare I say it, fearless.

Hotch is very concisely put: not. He's shy, quiet and tries to avoid making eye contact with most people so they can't judge him. Nothing wrong with being shy or quiet, but Garcia needs him to see how great he is so she immediately becomes friends with him.

He asks her to prom, and she's so infatuated with him that she's determined to impress him. Even though he doesn't need impressing because he's head over heels in love with her, and he realised that when she told a younger student it was okay that they'd dropped pasta over her since accidents happened.

(In this universe, the absolute chaos that is Haley and Emily, who adore teaming up against Hotch just in all aspects of life, are together.)

Anyways, Garcia puts a ton of effort in, as does Hotch but then the dance gets a bit loud so they leave, and she's afraid to get soaked but they can still hear the music so they dance to it and then they have a perfect(ish) first kiss.

It's ish because it's their first one and they're all wet, but it's still as close to perfect as any moment of life could possibly be.

[fxcking-anon]

Fallingforyou

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: Alcohol

Word Count: 3,749

A/N: I’m not sure what it is about this song but I’ve had it on repeat for the past few months. There’s something about it. Part of it definitely stems from the fact that no one has kissed me as the 1975 plays in the background. I wasn’t sure when I wanted this to happen but I just watched the episode where JJ and Will get married and it finally clicked. This is the perfect moment for that with Spence. Soft and romantic, that feeling you get after leaving a wedding and knowing that love is real because you’ve just been surrounded by so much of it.

lol so through the course of writing this, it just got longer and longer oops. 

----------

You tilted your head back laughing as Derek and Spencer spun you back and forth between the two of them as “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” played in the background. Penelope was singing drunkenly along, holding on to Rossi as she forced him to sway back and forth with her. 

“Hey babygirl,” Derek called out to Penelope, twirling you back into Spencer’s arms, “You wanna do the lift?” He started to back up, gesturing at her to run at him.

“Oh no, I’m not that drunk. These heels are not meant for running. Or sticking a landing. No way,” she said, opting instead to take Rossi’s hand and let him spin her into a slightly offbeat, step together move. 

You leaned your head on Spencer’s chest as you rocked slowly to the beat. All around you, your closest friends smiled and laughed and danced together. Despite the hell of the day before, everyone managed to pull through for JJ and Will. The happy couple were whispering to each other in the middle of the dance floor, caught up in their own little world. JJ’s fingers curled tightly around Will’s. It didn’t seem like either of them would be letting go for a long time. The events of yesterday seemed to remind them of that. 

“What’s going on up there?” Spencer asked you, lightly tapping your temple to get your attention. 

“Hmm?” You looked up at him, jostled slightly from your musings by the tap to your head.

“You okay?” He reiterated, searching your face for micro-expressions. 

You smiled up at him. “I’m really happy Spencer,” you told him, “It’s hard not to be. I’m with my family, aren’t I?” You giggled, unable to contain the unbridled happiness that was coursing through you. 

You looked around you. Over to one side, Beth was dancing with Jack as Hotch looked on fondly. Next to them, Henry had wriggled his way between Will and JJ. Will picked him up and the family started swaying and spinning together, laughing at Henry’s fist pumps to the slow music. On the other side, Penelope and Derek were (lousily) attempting a grapevine as Rossi and Emily seemed to pull out all the stops as they waltzed gracefully. Show offs. 

“You know, you guys are my best friends,” you said, looking back up at Spencer. “Truly, best in the whole world.”

As much as he tried to hide it, you clocked the millisecond of discomfort in his expression before he smiled at you again. You pushed it to the back of your mind. You weren’t going to let yourself go full profiler and ruin tonight for yourself. Tonight you were going to enjoy this moment with the people you held closest to your heart. Tomorrow you could analyze why Spencer didn’t like you referring to him so fondly. 

----------

You couldn’t guess the time if you tried as everyone started stumbling out of Rossi’s mansion. You could however, tell that you, along with most of the team, had a little bit too much to drink. 

“I’m calling cabs for all of you, you can come collect your keys tomorrow,” Rossi said, jangling Derek, Penelope, Emily and your keys in his hand.

“I’ll take them,” Spencer fake sighed, rolling his eyes before revealing a grin. “Okay, everyone in,” he said, unlocking his Volvo and waiting for everyone to situate themselves. You found yourself squished in between Emily and Derek as Penelope eagerly hopped in the passenger seat. “You aren’t buckled Y/N,” Spencer scolded, staring you down in the rear view window, waiting for you to secure yourself in the seat. 

You looked behind you, trying to find the seat belt. Coming up empty, you shot Spencer a quizzical look in the mirror. He unfastened his own belt to turn around towards you, reaching back to pull out the belt before securing it gently across you. 

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, but Spencer’s hand seemed to linger at the point where the seat belt touched your hip. And for whatever reason, probably the alcohol, you wanted more contact. Sadly, Spencer turned back around abruptly to wrestle the volume dial away Penelope. 

“But this is my jam!” Penelope whined as Spencer lowered the volume back to where you could hear your own thoughts again. 

“I can’t drive if I can’t hear. Distracted driving is incredibly dangerous-” 

“Just drive Pretty Boy, I’ve got a hot lady waiting for me at home,” Derek interrupted Spencer’s tangent and coincidentally caught the attention of the three women in the car. 

“Who? What woman? Who?” Penelope instantly asks, poking Derek in the leg as best she could from her position in the passenger seat. You and Emily both stared at him quizzically. You brought out your ‘tell me more’ elbow as Emily wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Her name is My Bed and her friend, My Pillow, is also anxiously awaiting my return so please, step on it,” Derek said, leaving the girls in various states of shock and giggles. 

Spencer shifted the car into drive and slowly pulled out, stepping on it as much as one can while staying within the 25 mile per hour residential limit of the law. 

----------

You waved goodbye to Penelope as she stepped into the doorway of her apartment complex before settling yourself in the front seat. As you buckled and reclined your seat a few degrees, you felt Spencer’s eyes on you. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, “I just get a little bit sick in the back of cars. It’s a little worse from the drinks.” You noticed Spencer immediately tense. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to be sick. I’m a big girl, I can hold my liquor.”

You watched as his shoulders relaxed as he turned back towards the road. For as uptight as Spencer seemed about following the rules of the road, he looked surprisingly relaxed as he drove through the city streets. You attributed part of it to the lack of traffic at this early hour of the morning. Even so, seeing Spencer doing something as simple as driving one handed as the other rested on the gear shift sent a slight shiver down your spine. It was wildly attractive. 

As he slowed down for a stop light, he looked over at you again. “What’s going on up there?” he asked, repeating his words from earlier that night. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if his gaze was really as intense as it felt, boring holes into you. 

“It’s just...” you start, trailing off for a moment, trying to find the right words. “We don’t get a lot of happy time. As tired as I am and as much as these shoes are killing me, I’d do anything to be able to live in tonight forever. With all of you. You guys are my closest friends in the world and I watch as we all struggle to find the light after day in and day out of tragedy. When we get moments like this, it’s hard when they’re over.” You hadn’t meant to get so deep so quickly. You hadn’t meant to bare your soul like that in front of Spencer. Not that you didn’t trust him implicitly, you just knew that intense emotional expression could sometimes overwhelm him. Leave him unsure of how to proceed. 

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed simply, turning back to the road as the light turned green. “It’s nice to forget for a while.”

The drive continued in comfortable silence. Your eyes closed, the streetlamps agitating your oncoming migraine as soft classical music played through the sound system.

“What song is this? I’m assuming Beethoven, right?” you asked.

“You would be correct,” you could hear Spencer’s smile in his response and almost opened your eyes to see it. “It’s Piano Concerto Number 5 in E flat major.” The music swelled as he spoke before a decrescendo to a soft, simplistic melody again. It took everything in your power to subdue your Drunk Brain. Between the music, his one hand grip of the steering wheel, the neon lights of downtown and the alcohol in your system you wanted to just lean over and-

No. This was Spencer. Spencer deserved better than subpar drunk roadhead. 

You opened your eyes wide at that realization, sitting up straight before being choked out by the seat belt's emergency locking mechanism. Spencer’s attention snapped to you as you coughed violently, attempting to unlock the mechanism so you could lean forward onto your knees.

“Woah, woah, Y/N what happened?” The concern was clear in Spencer’s voice. “We’re at your apartment, are you okay to go up?”

“I’m-” you choked out another cough, finally feeling clear enough to take a normal breath in. “I’m okay. I just…” you trailed off, trying to think of anything to say besides ‘I got freaked out by how much I wanted to suck you off because I know we aren’t like that’.

Spencer placed the car in park and turned off the engine before stepping out of the vehicle. He rounded the front of the car before opening your door and squatting besides you. “Let me get that,” he said, releasing you from your seat belt. Your chest was still heaving which certainly didn’t help how flustered you could feel yourself getting from how close Spencer was to you. The concern in his eyes only made you more attracted in that moment and it took everything you had to remind yourself that you are part of a team of profilers. There was no getting out of this hole you dug yourself into tonight. 

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper as you took his hand and stepped out of the car. You hadn’t realized how much Spencer had allowed skin to skin contact tonight. You knew that it was hard for him to avoid hyperfixation on how many germs were passed every time someone initiated skin to skin contact. Yet he danced with you, touched your face, and was now taking your hand. You wanted to read deeper, to profile this simple change, but your addled brain would not cooperate with you at the moment. 

As you stood up, the world spun. Sitting, you felt buzzed. Standing, however, it took you a moment to realize that Spencer had wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you back to an upright position. Staring hard, his face came into clearer focus. 

“You’re drunk,” he stated simply. You couldn’t help but giggle. He wasn’t wrong. You caught him smiling back at you before turning his face away and replacing it with a more impassive stare. 

----------

Lucky for the two of you, your apartment complex had recently fixed the elevator that had been broken for the past six months. Otherwise, maneuvering you back to your apartment would have been far more difficult. As you approached your door, you felt a tug on your handbag. Spencer gently removed it from your grip and fished out your keys, unlocking the apartment door before guiding you inside. 

Spencer had never been inside your space before. There was no reason for him to. Hotch had stopped by once before to drop off case files when you were sick but other than that, no one from the team had been here. And Hotch didn’t even come inside. 

You studied his face, doing your best to pick up his micro-expressions as he looked around your small living space. There wasn’t much. A worn, cushy couch, two oversized arm chairs, a stack of books on an end table and a large collection of half dead plants. Spencer guided you to one of the arm chairs before taking a closer look at one of your ivy plants. 

“You do know that overwatering kills just as much as underwatering, right?” Spencer said, clearly messing with you. 

You turned to look at him as he took one of the ivy leaves between his fingers.

“Eugene is just temperamental,” you countered, frowning at the plant.

“You named them?”

“Of course,” you huffed, pulling yourself up to grab a glass of water, “I can’t just refer to it as Hedera Helix all the time. I have another, they need a distinction. So I name them.” You made your way slowly to the kitchen, hearing Spencer follow you just closely enough that he could stabilize you if you teetered again. You pulled your favorite mug out of the cupboard before filling it with water. 

“It’s late,” Spencer said, nodding his head to the time displayed on your stove. 3:37. 

You immediately felt a wave of regret crash into you. You hadn’t intended on being so needy tonight. It was late. And here Spencer was, watching over your drunk, bumbling self instead of going home and getting some sleep. 

“I probably wouldn’t be asleep anyways, really, don’t worry about it,” Spencer said, taking quick note of your change in demeanor. 

“You can go,” you said, turning your attention back to your mug. “Really, thank you for everything tonight but it is late.”

“Y/N…” Spencer started, crouching a bit to get back in your line of vision, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. If you want me to leave, I will. But don’t think that I’m here against my will. Okay?”

You nodded softly. You wanted him to stay. You wanted him to be here in the morning when you woke up. You wanted so very much more from him in that moment. “Would you…” you faltered, second guessing your decision.

“Would I what, Y/N?” Spencer asked softly.

“Would you stay? I have a guest room and the sheets are clean and I understand if it’s weird because you’ve never been here before and now I’m trying to drag you into an unwanted weird sleepover and I’m drunk and you’re not and it’s late and you should really-”

You froze as Spencer let out a little laugh. 

“I don’t mind staying. Sometimes it’s nice not to have to go home to an empty apartment after nights like this,” he said. Your eyes widened for a moment and you could tell he realized the unintentional subtext of his comment. “No! Not like that! I just meant that- I mean- Tonight was nice! And happy! And sometimes, being alone…” he trailed off.

You knew what he meant. Sometimes, being alone just brings all the terror back. And sometimes, after a night with the people who mean the most to you, who remind you that there’s good in this world, you just aren’t ready for that to end. 

“I have some men’s sweats if you want to change,” you offered. Spencer raised his eyebrows at you. “I bought them. I like sleeping in oversized sweats, I don’t have enough time to be collecting them from random guys. Get your head out of the gutter Dr. Reid,” you scolded him, laughing.

You made your way to your bedroom, only stumbling slightly, and retrieved a pair of grey sweats along with an old, 2xl 5k t-shirt you got when you used to run. You handed them to Spencer before showing him to the guest bedroom. “Goodnight Spence,” you said.

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well,” he replied, waiting for you to shut the door before he started changing. 

You closed the door before returning to your own bedroom. You closed the door and leaned against it, doing everything in your power not to walk back into the guest room and kiss him. Or ask him to do unspeakable things to you. You knew he wouldn’t, mostly because he’d ramble off that intoxicated consent is not consent and probably something about respecting you and your professional relationship too much blah blah blah. Sighing, you went to unzip your dress to change into pajamas. 

No matter how much you twisted your body, the zipper was just out of reach, laying directly in the space between your flailing hands. Shit. 

Moments later, you found yourself outside of the guest bedroom, knocking gently on the door.

“Spence?” 

The door swung open and it took everything you had not to gasp. The grey sweatpants hung low on his hips and the t-shirt clung ever so slightly to his frame. You heard Spencer clear his throat and your eyes shot up to meet his. He caught you staring.

“Can you help me?” you asked, trying to distract from your staring. You turned around and lifted your hair, hoping he’d get the message and help with the zipper. Luckily, he did. Chills ran up your spine as he slowly pulled it down, just enough so you could reach it yourself. He was always so respectful, especially when you were as drunk as you currently were.

“Thanks,” you whispered, moving towards your bedroom door.

“Sweet dreams,”

Your heart fluttered again as you made it back to your room without embarrassing yourself any further. Now freed from the cursed dress, you took no time in removing your makeup and throwing on an old shirt. Almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were drifting off to sleep.

----------

A small crash in the kitchen woke you up. You sat straight up in bed, reaching for the gun in your bedside table drawer. Slowly, you peaked your head out of your room, keeping your gun extended as you swept the hallway. Your head was pounding and fuzzy, definitely from the alcohol. Penelope and you should never be allowed to drink together again. She always talks you into doing too many shots. Quietly, you maneuvered yourself into the living space of the apartment, squinting against the bright light streaming in your curtains. And then you smelled...coffee? You lowered your gun as you crept towards the kitchen.

“Oh shoot. Shoot shoot shoot son of a-” a hushed voice came from the kitchen, freezing as you rounded the corner. Spencer sat on the floor, picking up the remains of an old coffee mug. 

“Spencer?” you said, trying to piece together the flashes of memory you had from the night before.

“I’m so sorry!” he blurted out. “I was trying to be quiet and then I knocked over the mug. I just know coffee usually helps with hangovers and you had a lot to drink last night and-you have a gun?”

“You’re in my apartment?” you asked, attempting to process what he was saying along with the scene in front of you. Spencer stood up, stretching slightly and revealing a small strip of skin in between one of your old t-shirts and a pair of your oversized sweats. That certainly didn’t help you focus on deciphering what was going on.

“You asked me to stay last night. I hope it’s okay that I did?” Spencer’s eyes were trained on your face, attempting to analyze your reaction. You sighed, a few pieces of last night fitting together. You secured the safety on your glock before sitting it on the counter.

“Of course it’s okay Spence. I’m just trying to put everything together, that’s all,” you assured him, moving to grab the dustpan out of a cabinet and sweep up the mug remains.

“I’m sorry about the mug,” he repeated. You laughed. It was one of the generic FBI mugs they gave out when they forced you to go to seminars. 

“Spence, it’s fine. Trust me, it wasn’t even in my top ten favorite mugs,” you said, reaching into the cupboard for another. “Here, try not to drop this one.” You handed him a different mug.

You watched as he read the text under his breath. “How does Pavlov keep his hair so shiny? He conditions it…” Spencer looked at you with a very dry expression as he tried not to laugh. “Pavlov puns? Really?”

“You’re not the only one who can make bad jokes. Now, the creamer should be on the door, spoons are in that drawer,” you said, pointing to the drawer a little to his left, “and I keep sugar cubes in that cabinet, look to the right.” You poured yourself a cup of black coffee before leaning against the counter and taking a sip. Spencer made his coffee too and you both stood in comfortable silence, drinking your coffee.

“Thank you,” you finally said, avoiding Spencer’s eyes as you swirled your coffee around the mug. “You didn’t have to do any of that last night, you’re a really good friend. I’m so lucky to have you.” You met his eyes, noting...something off? You couldn’t place it. You raised a brow at him.

He sighed and looked away, trying to brush off the subject. You weren’t having it.

“Talk to me,” you coaxed, placing your hand over his. You expected him to move. You realized after you did it that you were pushing a physical boundary with him. Guilt began to flood you until you realized, he didn’t move. You didn’t withdraw his hand or flinch. Instead, he stretched his fingers ever so slightly under your touch so they brushed against your palm. “Spence?”

“I- Y/N, I value you so much,” he started.

“Spence, I know you do-”

“And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to make you feel like you owe me or anything for being nice to you last night-”

“Spence…?”

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he sputtered out.

Oh. Oh. You looked at him, wide eyed, trying to figure out if he really meant what you thought he meant.

“I’m sorry, forget it,” he immediately recanted, placing his mug down on the counter. “I should go,”

You caught his arm as he tried to move past you. Your hand ran gently up his chest, causing little goosebumps to pop up on his arms. His fingers barely brushed your thighs as they ghosted up them. His head leaned into the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to be your friend, Y/N,” he breathed against the sensitive skin of your neck. “I want to be able to do this instead.” He pressed his lips gently to your neck, kissing it once. 

It felt like all the air left your lungs the moment his lips touched you. You could feel him chuckle against your neck at your reaction. He kissed your neck again, more intensely this time. You melted into his arms as he peppered your neck with kisses. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, causing him to lift his head from your neck.

“Yes?” 

“Kiss me.”

[daydadahlias]

fic when 😔🙏 (jokesjokes but also yeah deff see ashton dropping everything to be with someone in need 🥲)

Fic now.

This is literally just 5.6k of Calum being angsty and then Ashton showing up at his house. That’s what this is. I will make an actual post for it tomorrow as well as posting it on ao3 but it’s 1 am rn and my sleep drunk mind is going “put it out, put it out” so I’m putting it out lol. This is for you, Beth.  TW // drinking

—Tailspin—

It’s not that Calum thinks he’s incapable of being loved or loving. He’s not.

It’s not about being incapable, it’s about being insusceptible. Not a lot of love knocking down his door lately, not a lot of love sitting around and waiting to be scooped up. Love is a hard thing to come by.

Or, no, that’s wrong again.

Love is an incredibly easy thing to come by in his life as it stands. Everyone loves him. He’s a good person. He’s lovable. He’s attractive, and he’s kind, and he’s funny on occasion. There’s nothing about him, actually, that is unloveable.

There are things about him that are dislikeable, sure. Like, he chews with his mouth open sometimes. Or he drinks too much sometimes or smokes too much sometimes or does both at the same time too much sometimes. Sometimes, he’ll knock over a roll of fabric in Walmart, and won't pick it up because there’s always that small voice in his head that goes, “Aw, someone else will get that.”

But none of his traits are downright cruel, downright callus, downright untreatable. He’s sure the right person would call him out on the chewing. That the right person would pluck the beer or joint out of his hand and say, “Enough of that now, Cal.” That the right person would bump in the shoulder in the Walmart aisle and say, “Hey, asshat, pick that up.”

All of his traits are, for the most part, completely acceptable if the right person were willing to deal with them and maybe fix him just a little.

Not that he’s broken. He’s not broken. He’s… out of place, maybe. Not always. Just sometimes.

He’s not unhappy. He’s not hurting. He’s not miserable.

He’s tired, a touch sleepy, and a touch drunk as well.

Not so drunk he doesn’t know up from down. But not so sober that he knows to stop drinking. He’s only one beer down and he’s a large guy so it’s barely enough to make him tipsy, but there’s a noticeable warmth that’s starting to make his blood feel fuzzy, make his head tilt a little more to the side, and his smile to be a touch lazier.

He’s not smiling at anyone; no one’s home but him. Roy’s gone out but Calum can’t seem to quite remember where he went off to. It doesn’t matter anyway. Roy’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. He doesn’t need to be bothered by Calum right now calling just to say, “Could I hear your voice for a moment?”

How fucking stupid would that be?

And he’s not the sort of person that would call to say that either. That would be cause for alarm. Calum’s not out of touch with his feelings or anything. He’s very in touch with his feelings for an adult man, he thinks. In his line of work, he needs to be. Writing songs and sharing them is the equivalent to slicing one’s skin open with a butterknife and begging someone to listen. All art is, he thinks, is begging. All writing is, is bleeding. And God, does he spend so many of his days bleeding.

He’s bleeding now, he knows. Not physically—although he did get a papercut recently on the tip of his thumb and he keeps putting his finger in his mouth to tongue at the slice absently as it heals—but emotionally, he swears he’s pouring out.

He’s sitting on the couch with a new beer cradled between his thighs, holding the neck of it with one hand, the other hand focused on his mouth where he’s sucking the tip of his thumb to taste metal and he has the most jarring realization of, dude, what are you, a baby with a bottle? and then he starts laughing, picturing a baby drinking milk from a beer bottle.

And then he thinks it’s a touch on the pathetic side that he’s laughing alone in his house over something so stupid so he stops laughing. And now he just feels dumb.

So he takes another sip of his beer, bites his thumb briefly to make it sting—because, in the most dramatic sense, pain should be felt—and drops his hands to his lap.

Then he sniffs, bothered with his own brain, and berates himself mentally for drinking at all. He should probably stop drinking now before he gets to the point that he can’t and ends up passed out on the couch with empty bottles surrounding him and his thumb in his mouth like a spoiled toddler that’s been put down for nap time.  

His mouth mumbles, “fucking pathetic,” before his brain tells him, that’s not a very nice thing to say about yourself. But fuck his brain, what does that asshole know?

He reminds himself that it’s not that he’s unlovable. It’s just that love is so… love is… oh, what is love, baby, don’t hurt me—now he’s singing.

Maybe he’s drunker than he thought.  

He needs to get a handle on this before he does something stupid. He doesn’t know what that stupid something is but he knows he’ll do it. It’ll probably just be something like taking a shower with all his clothes on—which he has fully done before—or something even more self-destructive like leaving a voicemail for his ex. One of his exes. Which ex will he regale this time? Which one will he ask, is it that I’m unloveable? I know I’m not. I’m very capable of being loved. So what was it about me that made me unloveable to you?

But it’s not them, he reminds, and it’s not you, it’s us and the fact that we didn’t mesh. It's not us individually. It's us together.

Ashton says it’s about the right person. The right person is going to love Calum heart and soul. The right person is going to pick up after him in Walmart and tell him off for sitting alone on his couch on a Wednesday night with a beer and his dog and nothing else worth naming.

His dog that is asleep next to him. He moves to rake his fingers through Duke’s fur, Duke happily snuggling closer to his thigh at the touch.

What makes Calum finally stop drinking is the realization that if he gets drunk and passes out, he’ll forget to take Duke out for a piss before bed and that would be shitty of him, and very unloveable.

People that forget about their dogs are unloveable, and Calum is not unloveable which is why he will stop drinking and remember to take care of his dog.  

But when he puts his beer down on the coffee table he is cruelly reminded of one very horrible fact. Now he’ll have to sit inside his own head when he’s not drunk. And he really wants to be drunk right now. Because sitting in his own head is hard.

He’s not depressed. He’s not damaged. He’s not holding a hammer against his skull ready to break his brain in half.

He’s just tired, and a little bit sleepy, and a little bit drunk, and feeling just a teeny touch like maybe he’s incapable of loving or being loved.

Duke snores against his thigh and he trails his fingers back through Duke’s fur.

“I’m being really fucking angsty tonight, huh?” he tells the dog, even though Duke is asleep and even if he wasn’t, he can’t speak English. And then Calum can’t help but lament, “Why can’t you talk?”

And then feels stupid yet again.

He feels stupid, and too sober, and yet not sober enough so he feels like a shit for drinking, and so many things all at once that really just go to show and go to prove and prove they do, that he’s incapable of loving or being loved.

“Okay, now I’m just being a fuck,” he announces to the room and fumbles to get his phone off the coffee table because he needs someone to tell him outright what a fuck he’s being.

He deserves a nice hearty slap across the face and a get over yourself man, what are you? A teenage boy going through puberty being ditched at prom? Fucking get it together.

He doesn’t even think about what number he’s dialing as he dials it. His shitty little brain already knows exactly who to call. Because there’s a very specific voice he wants to hear right now.

“Hey man,” Ashton answers after about two rings, a significant amount of shuffling going on in the background which means he has to be doing something of note, because Ashton’s always busy, Ashton’s always doing something; what does Calum do?

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Calum says back. He feels like maybe he slurs on purpose just so Ashton will ask if he’s okay.

“Trying to write a song,” comes Ashton’s response and Calum finally deduces the shuffling in the background to be Ashton setting his guitar down and picking it back up. A few strings are flicked in the distance, sounding far away, and Calum thinks that maybe he should just pull out his own guitar, sit on the couch, not have bothered Ashton, and bleed for a while. “What’s up with you? You sound weird.”

And Calum can’t help but smile lopsidedly at the fact that all he’d said was hey, what’re you doing? and that single line was enough for Ashton to know, because he’s Ashton and he always seems to know even when the last thing Calum wants is for him to know.

He wants him to know now though. He wants Ashton to ask if he’s okay, and he wants to say no, and he wants Ashton to do that thing he does where he promises Calum that even if things are shit now, they won’t always be, and that life is a series of very convoluted spirals and even though he’s at the bottom of the barrel now, soon enough he’ll spin right back up to the top.

That’s how life is. Spinning and spinning and sometimes you’re smiling and sometimes you’re crying and, through it all, you’re bleeding and bleeding and hoping you don’t run out of blood or words before you reach the top again.

He just needs Ashton to offer some words of wisdom; a promise that Calum’s going to keep spinning and eventually spin out of this.

He’s not even sad. He’s just tired. And drunk. And lonely.

“I, uh—” Calum chokes on a pathetic laugh and shrugs his shoulders— “I’ll be honest, man, m’not great.”

Calum hears him set down his guitar, concern overtaking his voice. “What’s going on?”

Calum loves how concerned Ashton can get so easily. He jokes constantly that they can never take their money to Vegas because Ashton would lose them every cent. He has no poker face. He’s expressive, and truthful, and devastatingly raw in every choice he makes, every decision felt down to his core, and Calum might bleed pain when he writes but all Ashton bleeds is passion, fiery and burning. And Calum doubts there will ever be a time in his life when he doesn’t look up to the man.

Even though he is taller than him physically and teases Ashton constantly for it. Oldest in the band, tiniest guy. Basically a garden gnome. He’s a sprout. A woodland creature. A—

“Cal,” Ashton repeats, obvious worry in his tone, “What’s going on, man?”

“Oh—” Calum shakes his head, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose— “Nothing, really, I just—No, it’s really nothing.”

“Are you okay?” Ashton asks gently and Calum’s body seems to melt instantly into the cushions with the words.

It’s all about those words, isn’t it? It’s the fact that Ashton cares enough to ask and Calum knows he cares enough to ask, not just asking because it's expected, and better than that, he knows Ashton will have a good answer when Calum tells him no. Ashton won’t say, ‘aw, pal, that’s rough, I’m sorry.’

Ashton will do what Ashton always does which is simply: be Ashton.  

And Calum finds himself smiling to himself as he mumbles back into the phone, “I’m not having the best day. Sort of having an ‘oh, so I suck’ moments, you know?”

Ashton makes a displeased noise into the receiver and argues, “You don’t suck.”

“I know I don’t suck.” Calum smiles at Duke sleeping next to him. “But my brain… this little bastard just won’t hear it. I keep trying to tell him to fuck off but he just won’t shut up.”

“What a dick,” Ashton agrees and Calum shuts his eyes, comfort already beginning to spread through him. It’s astounding how just a few words from Ashton, just a few well places syllables and caring gestures, can make things feel so much more right.

Not fully right. Ashton can’t fix everything, no matter how damn hard the man tries, but the effort makes all the difference. Calum knows he isn’t the only one who thinks that.

“Are you at home?” Ashton wonders and Calum makes an agreeing sound.

“Sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, petting Duke, contemplating the secrets to the universe,” Calum replies, “trying not to hate me, casual Wednesday night.”

“Uh-huh.” There’s a significant amount of ruffling around on the other side of the line and Calum can’t for the life of him figure out what the hell is going on. He opens his mouth to ask when Ashton interrupts him to say, “Listen, Cal, something’s just come up, I gotta call you back, okay?”

Calum’s face drains and a sharp stab of panic hits him in the gut at being left alone with the silence and the loneliness but there’s a notable amount of static happening on the other line so he knows Ashton is serious about something happening. And it makes Calum draw his brows together, wanting to know what’s happening and what has Ashton sounding stressed.

He fumbles out a, “Yeah, that’s fine, but can you—Will you for real call me back though, please?”    

He doesn’t mean to sound as pitiful as he does and he fully winces once the words are out because Cal, man, dude, brother, what the fuck was that? You sound like a baby once again, tugging at a parent's pant leg, asking not to be taken into daycare.

But it’s just so easy to treat Ashton like a parent. To think of Ashton as a parent when Ashton has—in all effects—spent the last decade being their parents.

When they were first on the road and they didn’t have their actual family, Ashton was more than happy to slip into the role. It was natural for him, easy. He didn’t think about it and he didn’t announce it. He didn’t tell the guys he was the new leader, or the new head of the house. He just came into their lives and was himself. And the man is too easy at leading not to be followed.

Luke said it openly once; he’d follow Ashton to the end of the earth. And Calum and Michael will be right alongside him. Ashton hasn’t led them wrong before. And Calum doesn’t think he ever will. He does what’s best for them, he always has. The only person’s needs he ever sacrifices are his own, and suddenly Calum feels guilty as fuck for calling him.

Because he knows that whatever Ashton has to do right now will be sidelined in order to call Calum back.

“No, actually, you don’t have to,” Calum says loudly, moving to hang up. “You don’t have to call me back, I’m good. Seriously, I’m good.”

“Cal,” Ashton says, his voice gentle yet sharp, “I’ll call you back in ten minutes, alright? Just sit tight until then.”

So Calum snaps his mouth shut and lets Ashton hang up the phone after a muted goodbye. He knows Ashton will call him back. Ashton always calls him back.

It’s just hard having to sit here now, alone, and with no one on the other line telling him not to do it, what is he supposed to do but pick his beer back up and take a swig?

And with so much free time now, he figures he might as well light himself a cigarette before Ashton calls again, so he does. Besides, it’s not like Ashton will even see the cigarette or know it’s there considering he’ll be on the phone so Calum decides to smoke down the first one far too fast and light himself a second.

Then he smokes for a while and contemplates if he should even bother getting his guitar out. He could. He could get his guitar out right now and he could try to write a song that’s full of worthlessness and lack of love and suffering and how it feels to bleed yourself dry, spinning down and down, but then he thinks that the song won’t be any good.

The song would be melodramatic and lackadaisical and miss the point he's trying to get across, which is that he isn’t miserable by any stretch but damn, he sure as hell isn’t happy.

Not that he really needs to be happy. He just doesn’t care so much for the emptiness that accompanies nights like these. Nights that grow longer, that grow more often as he gets older and the youthful, naive charm of what they’ve done and who they are wears off.

He’s not a teenager anymore. He doesn’t love people screaming his name anymore.

It used to be loud, the adoration. It used to be blaring and open and fucking earth rocking. And he loved feeling loved. But now the praise is background sound, as poignant to him as shoes over gravel, and it lacks truth.

Why would an audience love him? An audience doesn’t know him. An audience doesn’t see him off the stage. An audience doesn’t love him because they can’t love him because they don’t know who the fuck he is enough to love him.

And now he’s staring at the cigarette that’s half-burnt away in his fingers and there’s a rather awful feeling in his gut of, fuck, at this point, do I even know who I am? Am I meant to? Shouldn’t I have figured it out by now? I’ve had plenty of time.

And it’s as he’s spinning down, down, down, that his doorbell rings.

“What the fuck?” he laments quietly to no one in particular because now is really not a great time; he’s trying to have an anxiety attack here, if they could come back later that would be great.

But the doorbell rings again, more aggressively this time like someone is punching it with their fingers, and he knows he should answer so he stumbles off the couch, doing his best not to wake up Duke in the process, tripping over the rug, nearly stubbing his toe on the coffee table as he gets to the front door.

Someone knocks loudly and he shouts, “One second!”

He finally pulls the door open, expecting to see Roy maybe, home from wherever it is he’s gone, or maybe someone lost and asking for direction, or hell maybe even an ax murderer before what’s actually there in front of him.

Ashton is standing on his doorstep, smiling crookedly, baggy pants on and a baggier t-shirt, looking like he’s just crawled out of bed and dragged himself to Calum’s house, sporting droopy eyes and messy auburn hair. And Calum truly has to resist the urge to lunge into his arms and hug him because fuck this guy and everything he does.  

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, alarmed, pulling back hurriedly to let Ashton walk inside, which he does without hesitation, shuffling over Calum’s carpet in his sandals, abandoning them instantaneously by the door so he can walk barefoot to Calum’s couch.

“You said you didn’t feel great,” Ashton answers like it should be obvious, eyes doing their rounds of Calum’s living room.

Calum flinches as Ashton’s eyes land on the empty beer bottle sitting on his table. Ashton glances over at him.

There’s nothing accusatory in the tone, even though there could be. “You been drinking?”

“Only two,” Calum answers quietly, feeling his face heat in something of an embarrassment.

Now he feels like a toddler being scolded for getting one too many cookies out of the cookie jar.

“Okay, no more of this,” Ashton decides, scooping up the empty bottle into his fingers, moving through Calum’s house with such finesse, such purpose, like he’s supposed to be here, picking up after Calum, cleaning up his messes, fixing what Calum swears isn’t broken.

But it’s what he’s always done. And it clicks to Calum that Ashton completely fucking lied to him on the phone. There wasn’t anything else to tend to, it was just that Ashton knew Calum would say no if he offered to come over so he elected to not give Calum a choice.

Calum is glad he took the choice away. He would have felt guilty asking Ashton over. Taking up his time. Taking up his love.

But here Ashton is, giving it to him without even being asked to.

Calum listens to the clunk of the beer bottle in the bin of the trash and watches Ashton emerge from his kitchen again, brushing his hands off. He points at Calum and says sternly, “Cigarette. Out. Now.”

Calum doesn’t even protest before stubbing it out in the small ashtray on his coffee table.

“What’s going on?” Ashton asks, concern creasing his brow up.

His hazel eyes can grow so worried sometimes. Like when Michael burned himself on stage, or when Luke came into the studio with a black eye he refused to acknowledge, or now when Calum is himself, standing at the opposite end of his coffee table, bleeding out onto the floor.

Calum looks at him, at the genuine care that dominates his face, and he admits, “Just feel like shit. No reason. M’just me. And I’m just sad today.”

“Alright.” Ashton blinks a few times, nodding, collecting the information. Calum waits for his advice. For him to tell Calum to man up, even though he knows Ashton won’t. Instead, Ashton takes a heavy breath in through his nose and asks, “You eaten yet?”

“No,” Calum answers.

“I’m gonna order us some dinner,” Ashton decides, turning to walk into the other room to grab one of the takeout menus that Calum has on his counter. Ashton knows his house inside and out. Knows where he keeps everything. Knows who he is. How he ticks. How to fix him.

Calum follows after him like a child. He feels like a child. He feels like a stupid little kid, sitting in a tiny apartment in London, wiping tears from his eyes because he misses his mom, feeling the couch dip beside him when Ashton sits down next to him and rubs his shoulders and tells him that it’s okay and that he’ll see his mom soon enough.

He walks into the kitchen and watches Ashton shuffle over the menu, humming to himself in thought. It’s not a rhythm Calum knows and he feels a tug of stress as he remembers that Ashton was writing music when he called and Calum’s just pulled him away from it.

“Weren’t you trying to write something?” he asks. “You don’t have to be here if you—”

“It wasn’t going anywhere,” Ashton returns with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Thoughts on Thai? Pad See Ewe sounds fucking fantastic right now. And I’ll get you the Pad Woon Sen, no meat, extra baby corn. Which is weird as fuck, because who actually likes baby corn?”

“Don’t smack talk baby corn,” Calum laments, laughing in disbelief as he walks further into the kitchen to lean against the counter and blink big black eyes up at Ashton, marking the dimples that have easily curved Ashton’s cheeks.

He loves Ashton’s smile. It’s wide; always on just the right side of being too wide to not look dumb. Ashton’s smile is always slightly dumb, crooked, happy. Honest.

He sets his chin in his hand, staring up at Ashton like he’s the one who hung the stars in the sky and mumbles, “Baby corn is hype as shit.”

“Baby corn is baby corn and is, thus, fucking awful,” Ashton replies, flipping his phone out and dialing the restaurant number. He glances up at Calum as it starts ringing and says, “You go back in the living room and go pick a movie, okay? The requirements are: it must have Ryan Reynolds and/or Sandra Bullock.”

“You want to watch The Proposal,” Calum fills in.

Ashton admits, “I want to watch The Proposal.”

Calum snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes off the counter, turning around to walk back to the living room while he says, “I will put on The Proposal,” as someone answers Ashton’s phone and he starts brightly prattling off their order.

Calum winds up right back on the couch, jostling Duke into waking up and whining his complaint. Calum shushes him as best he can, moving to pull the small dog into his lap, letting the puffball relocate on his thighs, tucking his paws beneath his head.

Calum scratches his ears until Duke drifts off again and Ashton returns to the living room, pocketing his phone. He says, “Food’ll be here in thirty.”

“Okay,” Calum says, “my wallet is—”

“I’m buying,” Ashton replies without room for argument and Calum tries to protest but Ashton won’t have it and Calum knows Ashton well enough not to argue so he shuts his mouth and focuses on petting Duke with one hand while fiddling with the remote with the other.

Ashton joins him on the sofa, plunking his body weight down, heavy enough that the couch creaks and Duke shifts in Calum’s lap.

Calum doesn’t expect it but he shouldn't be surprised when Ashton drags the blanket off the arm of the couch and starts to haul it around his own body and Calum’s lap, politely scooping Duke up so he can get the blanket over Calum’s legs before depositing Duke back down who is completely unbothered by the whole situation. He wakes up, yes, and yips once but that’s all he has to say on the matter.

Ashton adjusts the blanket a few more times, cuddling up to Calum’s side so their arms are touching and then, deciding he doesn’t want his arm to fall asleep—that’s the reason, definitely—he pulls it out from between them and loops it over the back of Calum’s shoulders.

He smells like incense. It’s a woody sort of smell, something with spice beneath it and it is so fucking calming so quickly that Calum’s body slacks and he presses up against Ashton’s side. Ashton’s body heat welcomes him easily and Ashton’s large hand lands on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

Calum knows Ashton isn’t the biggest cuddler. He’s not a cuddler at all, really. Back when they were younger, Michael, Calum, and Luke would climb all over each other, place kisses on each other’s hair and cheeks, grab each other in lewd ways whenever they wanted, but Ashton decidedly left himself out for the most part.

But he knows Calum and Calum is the cuddling type. Calum likes kissing people, he likes touching people. He likes being kissed and touched and hugged and he fucking loses his mind when someone runs their fingers through his hair and he knows that Ashton knows all of that.

Which is why it shouldn’t be shocking when Ashton says, “C’mon, asshole, put your head on my shoulder," but it is, because it's so easy to forget that people love him.

Calum laughs and replies, “What if I don’t want to?”

“You are halfway leaning against me, stiff as a board,” Ashton replies, “put your head on my shoulder, or in my lap if you want, I don’t care. You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Calum responds, heart and cheeks warm with the realization that he has very much been tipping himself towards Ashton without fully leaning into him. He wants to hate that he’s so easy to read but he knows it’s not so much that as it is that Ashton has simply learned exactly how to read him.

“Uh-huh.” Ashton rubs gently at Calum’s shoulder, a soothing, circular motion that has Calum’s eyelids fluttering. “I’m sorry today’s been shit.”

“It’s not just today,” Calum grumbles back, dropping his head onto Ashton’s shoulder, his hair pressing up against Ashton’s neck. He hopes it doesn’t tickle. If it does, Ashton says nothing about it. “The whole week’s felt off.”

“Off how?” Ashton asks, eyes focused on the TV as Calum finally manages to get The Proposal up and running.

“Dunno.” Calum shrugs pathetically, keeping his head resting against Ashton’s shoulder. He’s warm, solid. Safe. Calum nestles closer, knowing Ashton won’t push him off. “Y’know that Bo Burnham lyric ‘googling derealization; hating what you find’? Yeah, that’s it.”

Ashton snorts, clutching Calum’s arm which keeps him closer, Calum keeping his head right in the crook of Ashton’s neck and shoulder, breathing in the thick scent of comfort every time he breathes.

Ashton says, “Sorry. But that’s okay. You’re allowed to feel like shit every now and again.”

Calum watches the TV for a moment and he mumbles, “I know I am. But I don’t like feeling like shit.”

“No one likes feeling like shit,” Ashton replies, “but if you didn’t feel like shit, then happiness would be arbitrary. Unobtainable. Feeling like shit is important to reset the momentum. That way, when you’re happy, you’ll really know you’re happy.”

Calum hides his slowly forming smile in Ashton’s shirt.

“You can feel shitty if you want,” Ashton says, his palm continuing to rub gently over Calum’s arm over and over. “But I don’t want you to. And you don’t suck. You’re just an asshole to yourself sometimes.”

Calum laughs. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Ashton shifts some, letting Calum fall more heavily into him. There’s a very, very, slightly drunk part of Calum that wants to crawl into Ashton’s lap and say, hold me, but he is a grown-ass man and that’s not something grown-ass men do to other grown-ass men.

So he settles for breathing in Ashton’s shirt and smiling into his shoulder as he molds up against his side, hoping Ashton doesn’t make him move any time soon.

Ashton’s arm around his shoulders is a reassuring weight, reminding him that someone’s there with him, that someone will stay even if everyone else leaves. That even if Calum told Ashton to, Ashton wouldn’t, because Ashton knows Calum better than he knows himself sometimes, and knows that Calum wants him to stay even if he pretends he doesn't.

“Ash?” he murmurs, his voice sounding thick, having to force the word out.

“Uh-huh?”

Calum nuzzles into his shirt and says against the fabric, “Thanks for coming.”

“Obviously,” says Ashton, scoffing, and it makes Calum smile even wider when Ashton gives him a half side hug from how they’re sitting before he reaches up to card his fingers through Calum’s hair. “S’what I’m here for, man. You know that. D’you wanna talk about it? We don't have to.”

“No,” Calum answers, because he doesn’t. There isn’t much to talk about. “I just kinda wanna sit here and watch this shitty movie you picked out.”

“It’s the best romantic comedy ever made,” Ashton replies haughtily.

“When you admit baby corn is incredible,” Calum says, “I’ll admit your cheesy-ass movie is mediocre.”

Ashton doesn't say anything back but he laughs, shaking his head while continuing to pet through Calum’s hair. Calum purrs like a fucking cat at the touch, eyes drifting closed as Ashton continues to run long fingers back through Calum’s curls, getting caught on a tangle every now and then, tugging it free.

Some long moments pass, the movie prattling on (and Calum has to admit to himself that he loves this movie whether he’ll say it out loud or not) and Calum can hear Ashton’s heartbeat alongside his own, feel his body heat up against Calum’s, their skin touching, heat seeping from body to body, feel the way his stomach shifts with every breath he takes.  

And he says, because he needs to say it so Ashton knows, “Love you, by the way. Thank you.”

Ashton doesn’t so much as bat an eye as he returns, “I love you too, Cal. Maybe take a nap. I’ll wake you up when food gets here.”

Calum can’t ever argue with him either, so he drifts his eyes closed and takes in a deep breath, a tiny smile quirking his lips up as he snuggles up to Ashton again, hoping Ashton knows by the gesture and the soft breath he takes how much the words mean.

How much Ashton means.

He knows Ashton loves honestly. Loves fully. And thinking he is in any way deserving of that love makes him love Ashton even more for giving it over.

It’s not that Calum’s incapable of being loved or loving. He’s very much capable of both. It’s not about giving love. And it’s certainly not about receiving it. He gets love from millions. 

It's about the right person knowing him, accepting him, taking the love he offers, and giving it back to him with just as much meaning.

And Ashton coming over tonight, putting an arm around him and petting his hair when Calum never even asked him to, says just as much as it needs to.