#i drew from life like my therapist said and my life is boring

[jdawgthough]

[daidonzo]

Chapter 13 - Come love me [Chishiya x Reader]

You sat on the floor of Chishiya's room, your legs crossed, a pen in your right hand and a white piece of paper in front of you.

"What was what Kuina said again?" The blonde man asked, eyebrows raised.

"So, you have to draw a tree…" You started to do so. You drew roots, a trunk with a hole in the middle (there was a squirrel living there, but you were definitely not an artist and chose to leave that detail to the imagination of the viewer… Until you thought better about it and painted an arrow pointed at the hole, writing the world squirrel next to it, because not everyone would reach the same conclusion as you). "And the way you do it is supposed to tell you a lot about yourself."

"I see. Do you know you stick out your tongue when you concentrate on something?"

"Yes. Inheritance from dad."

He smiled, but you couldn't see it, fully invested in your painting as you were.

You had spent the day hanging out with Kuina and Tatta, Chishiya having been in an executive meeting for most of it. The Hatter had left for a game a few hours ago, having to finally renew his visa and you guessed he probably wanted to make sure everything would be okay during his absence.

That was when Kuina had told you about the tree-drawing theory, something a therapist had explained to her long ago.

And, since life without a phone or streaming services or a beautiful blonde man by your side was pretty boring, you had decided to try and psychoanalize yourself. Chishiya had entered the room when you were about to start.

You kept drawing, adding leaves here and there, but because it was autumn, most of them were on the ground. In your head, it all made sense.

"Finished!" You exclaimed, lifting the piece of paper and showing it to Chishiya.

He examined it for a few minutes, clearly amused.

"It looks like a tree." He declared, solemnly.

"Yes, I know! But what does it say about me?"

"I already told you, I'm not a psychologist."

"Well, but think! Give me your honest opinion."

"That you like squirrels?"

"Not really. They are fine. I just think everyone has a right to decent housing."

Chishiya's brown eyes focused on you, and for a moment, he turned serious.

"You really are fascinating."

"Was it the trunk that told you that?"

He chuckled. You laughed out loud.

"I think it doesn't work when you don't have the answers. Like, what does a hollow trunk were a squirrel lives mean? The fact that most leaves are on the ground?"

"I don't know."

You sighed, left the pen on the floor and climbed to bed with him, putting your face next to his to take another look at your drawing. And because you enjoyed proximity.

"It still is a work of art."

"If you say so."

You opened your mouth in surprise, pretending to be outraged by what he was saying.

"Are you implying my art is not good?"

"You want an honest answer?"

"No. Lie to me."

"Deserves to be in a museum."

You burst into laughter, dropping the act. You actually did not feel offended at all. You knew painting and drawing were not among your talents.

"You can keep it. So that it reminds you of me, just in case."

"As if I needed anything to remember you."

But, as he said those words, he folded the piece of paper in half and placed it on the pocket of his white hoodie, which turns out you had not ruined with your little emotional outburst from before, because tears dried and left no stains. Good to know.

You smiled from ear to ear. He couldn't have said anything better.

"You look happy."

"I'm so happy I could sing."

Chishiya frowned, slightly. "Didn't know you liked singing."

"Well, I was not really serious, but I do like singing. You have heard me many times."

His half smile told you he was about to mess with you, but nothing could have prepared you for what he said afterwards.

"Ah. Yes, what was it? Holding hands won't be enough…?"

"In a world giving head to a gun."

Your cheeks flushed red when you answered. You had sang that song the day you were hanging out after holding hands for the first time, as a way to discreetly tell him you were desperate for more physical contact. How did he remember? You thought he hadn't been paying you attention.

You felt mortified. So you did what you knew best - kept talking.

"It's from a band I like. They have a lot of love songs. They are like rock n' roll but like rock n' roll for when you like someone. It's romantic but not too sappy. Or well, it is sappy but in a very artistic way. Like poetry. Like… Well, the song made me think of you, so I just sang it. I was trying to express myself."

"Do you have any other songs you would like to dedicate to me, then?"

"You are not about to get an a cappella concert from me, especially not for free."

"I'll give you something in return."

You were about to say no, never in a million years, that maybe in his dreams you would… But you didn't. Because while a part of you was scared of actually confessing your feelings to him, another actually wanted to say many, many things that you couldn't put into words that easily.

"Okay, there's one. I usually would also play guitar while singing, but you are just going to have to imagine. Don't laugh. I said I liked singing, not that I'm any good at it. I'm also not good at playing guitar, or any instrument. Like, I'm not awful, but I'm not particularly good either, not by any means." You kept going, nervous as you were. You took a deep breath and…

Here lies a heart that feels Touched by fire, howling at the moon for you Caught in dusk, heartstrings out of tune From the abyss pirouette my way back to you Come love me numb Come love me till it hurts Dance the neon noir with me Come love me

That was awful. You had closed your eyes while you were singing and were almost afraid to open them and find him laughing. But you still did.

And he was staring at you, expresionless. And for the thousandth time, you wished he was a tiny bit easier to read. You felt like you were drowning and he was just looking at the water instead of helping.

He placed his hand on the back of your neck, making all the hairs on your body stand on end, pulling you closer.

And his lips were on yours.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, the shock of it giving you no chance to react properly to it. A million thoughts running around your head, how wonderful it had been, how worth the wait, how you wanted many, many more…

"I feel like a siren." You whispered, remembering the mythological beings, half bird, half beautiful woman, that were known for their bewitching voices and that lured sailors to their death with their song.

You almost wanted to punch yourself right after. That's all you had to say after a first kiss!?

Chishiya laughed, luckily finding the comment a lot more endearing than you did.

"Like I said, you are fascinating."

[anicekidlikeme]

My life is a fucking squiggly line.

Today I woke up feeling some unusal optimism about my life. I had a very busy day: studying for my exam, going to therapy, taking the exam, going to class and then office hours. It was all laid out, and for reasons that I won't dare question, I was really excited about today. I put on a rushed outfit. One with jeans. I was wearing jeans. I hadn't for weeks, and I was proud of myself. I go into therapy 10 minutes early, and situate myself in the waiting room, next to my former-campus-crush, who also happens to need therapy every Thursday at 10am. It was all going well.

You'll have to forgive me for any typos I make while writing this, I am devastated, teary eyed, and not a very elegant writer. Eventually, I walk into my therapist's office and start telling her about this sudden happiness. I had my truth conversation with Drew. I'm so proud of myself! The RA knocked on my door again yesterday to see if I was "mentally okay". It was so frustrating!

It took me a very long time to give therapy a chance, and even when I did, I wasn't convinced any of that shit was real. How could I? Growing up, all I heard were pretentious quotes about how mental health needs to be a bigger focus in Indian culture, and all I saw was people doing the exact opposite. It feels so weak to even say the words mental health (it may be the only thing worse than saying I'm depressed out loud). Because of the finite-ness of every emotion of mine, I always logically concluded that everything must pass. And once it has, I just thought you become some sort of happy-prototype (how american-dreamy of me).

But the awful thing about everything is that it never passes. The places I will never go back to are still unchanged, and they just stay there while the grass grows. All these feelings I have too never really go away. They just stay hiding in the back of my brain waiting to jump out when I am not looking. So, I went to therapy. I learned how to get comfortable talking about my feelings, I learned how to resolve them, and I learned how to trust someone with a degree to help make me better.

When I start feeling familiarity, I often do so in the context of surrounding objects. In my therapists office, I had started to feel safe with the trashcan near my chair, with the footrest that was right across from me, and the two paintings right above her brown leather chair. It really is a very comforting space, there's plants everywhere, and it just works. Back to the paintings, the first is of a tall leaf-less tree in the middle of nowhere, but with a strange two-toned gradient of a blue sky. The other is of a flowering cactus of sorts. I am usually very focused on them, and I like them. They help bring me back to my body on days where I am only 11% Vaibhavi. So, here I was, feeling familiar, feeling comfortable, and talking about my feelings.

I signed a confidentiality release last session so that she can reach out to somebody from my college staff to help me with details of my academic and financial life that would only bore you. This session, she brought it up. I know that my therapist too is a person, and I know that she herself has feelings about this confined relationship of ours, but the way in which she approached this hyperspecific fucking situation made me feel like the room had just shattered like glass. I felt confused, alone, accused, and very very unsafe. I wanted to shout at her. I notice as I am writing this that actually I want to shout at a lot of people, but never do. I wonder how it would go if I did, or even if I said I wanted to. Anyway, I wish I would have said to her, what the fuck? I have spent weeks coming in here, learning to trust you, telling you the smallest details about my life in the most truthful way, and here you are, feeling lied to? Just trust me! I really need you to. I did not say that, and instead I cried. A lot. I think a part of why therapy works so well for me is because there are many things in my life that are still waiting to be categorized. Vaibhavi, what happened here was wrong, and I feel for you. Vaibhavi, your body is having a completely normal and healthy response to stress. Vaibhavi, it is okay. I had never heard those sentences until a few weeks ago, and it felt like these labels were making things feel more resolved, more closed-book-ish. Validation is very healthy when you've never had a fucking clue about anything your whole life.

However, as we were talking, I felt a click. A click with which I could feel myself withdrawing. A click with which I could feel like maybe I gave too much of my trust to somebody who is just doing a job they are obligated to do. I don't think therapy is going to work anymore. I don't think it will feel good anymore. I felt for some reason, really really betrayed. I wish I could explain more in detail how everything went down, but if I am being honest, it was too confusing to remember anything besides these leftover feelings I am now writing about.

Maybe therapy is not a sustainable option for me, because I cant shake off the feeling that the more people get to know me, the more definite becomes the timeline of when they will have had enough of me. My social wealth, I have realized, goes through a very specific graphical pattern. Consistently upward at first: this is the stage of discovering new people, loving them, and thinking I will spend the rest of my life being their friend, lover, or I guess client. Then, consistently downward: this is less autonomous. This is when people start getting frustrated (maybe at my antics, maybe at my mindlessness, maybe because I am just too fucking sad all the time), and put distance in our involvements. After this little withdrawal stage, they leave. Walk right out, like I have just been fired from my long term job without warning or compensation. If you were to use these as data points for my life, you would graph a fucking squiggly line.

My life is a fucking squiggly line, and it sucks on days when I am painfully aware of that. What a confusing feeling, to think that your therapist believes that you are a bad person.

[grandpeachdetective]

The Boy Who Had Butterfingers

“Was there anything new this week?”

“No, not really,” replied Teddy.

Margaret pressed further.

“‘not really’?” 

 “Well…” Teddy began. He scanned around the room as he always did, squirming in his chair. There was the stuffed giraffe on the windowsill. The gold-framed diploma behind Margaret’s desk. The same boring Ikea lamp on a bookcase, filled with psychology textbooks. This room was all too familiar to the boy.

“Last week in Spanish class, Mrs. Nunez asked me to write my answer on the board.” 

 Margaret scribbling on her notepad when Teddy stopped talking.

 “And then?” inquired Margaret.

 “A-and then when I got up to write my answer on the board, she gave me the marker to use,” Teddy said. His voice faltering as he spoke.

 “She gave me the marker, but I just couldn’t hold it. I kept trying to grab it, but it kept falling out of my fingers, then everyone started laughing.”

 Tears raced down Teddy’s cheeks as his face turned rose red. His eyes swelled and his face turned into helplessness.

 Margaret kept writing on her notepad as Teddy spoke, eyes fixed on the pad of paper.

 “I just didn’t know what to do, so I ran out of class.” 

Teddy wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt. His tears soaked through both sleeves as he rotated between arms. He hung his head and rubbed his face with his palms.

 Margaret eventually looked up from her pad. Seeing a sad, 14-year-old boy in her office wasn’t unusual. Seeing Teddy emotionally vulnerable also wasn’t unusual. She glanced at the clock near the entrance: 1:56 pm.

 “Remember what we worked on last week, Teddy?” Her tone was upbeat, with hidden resentment. How long is this kid gonna bawl in my office for, she thought?

 “Yeah, I know… ‘don’t put yourself in critical situations’ “ recited Teddy.

 “See! You do remember!” Margaret shot back.

Margaret was unapologetically disdainful toward Teddy. Her frustration with the teenager and his lack of apparent progress made her detest Teddy. Every sentence she constructed to say to Teddy was built with contempt.

 In Margaret’s mind, Teddy was a crybaby who got dealt a bad pair of cards. All her other clients, with conditions or disfigurements, merrily continued their lives. Why did he not just accept his condition and move on?

“It looks like our time is up, Teddy,” Margaret said as she set down her notepad facedown on the desk behind her.

The teenager rubbed his eyes one last time before he stood up to put on his backpack.

“Same time next week?” inquired Teddy. His eyes swollen and eyelids raw from sobbing.

“As always,” said Margaret.

Teddy fumbled with the door handle, then stepped out of the office door and gently closed it behind him.

The middle-aged therapist sighed as she sat back in her armchair. The last client of the day had left. Now she can unwind. She reached across her desk and picked up her notebook. Her eyes narrowed down on the sheet.

“Hmmm,” Margaret said. “I think I drew his neck too long,” as she tried to fix her drawing of the stuffed animal on the windowsill.

***

Teddy had everything special. Special utensils for eating. Special tools for putting on his shoes. Special gloves for holding a pencil.

Life was not kind to the boy. Teddy was born with butterfingers. Ten fully functioning digits, with flesh coated in full-fat butter. Teddy had the dairy Midas Touch.

Teddy wore several layers of gloves in his daily life to hide his condition. His psychiatrist recommended that he forgo the gloves to “reintroduce touch to his senses.” The almost constant thought of revulsion by others plagued Teddy’s brain. He rarely took off his gloves for good reason: he couldn’t hold anything without them.

The middle school lunchroom was sparse. Populated with students, mostly loners, who kept to themselves. Teddy sat near the entrance to the lunchroom, huddled over a styrofoam food container. His utensils were custom made and attached to his wrists.

Muffled giggling echoed in the far corner of the lunchroom. Teddy knew who was laughing, but it was nothing new.

Derek Simpson had terrorized Teddy since the third grade. Derek lived within three blocks of Teddy, so the morning bus picked up Derek just after Teddy. Teddy’s fear and misery began when he got on that bus every morning. Derek terrorized Teddy for years. Constant bullying and relentless harassment was Derek’s game. If he could find a way to make Teddy cry, he did.

Teddy stood up to leave the lunchroom, clutched his lunch container, and walked towards the exit. Behind him was a puddle of dissolved butter on the table, its yellowish hue contrasted with the pearl-white tabletop.

***

As the workshop room was full of students, lathes droned and saws whirred. Today’s project is a wine crate.

Students in the 8th grade shop class traversed the room as they used various machines to complete steps in their project. The more advanced students used belt sanders near the front of the class. Chop saws screeching interrupted the humming sound of the belt sanders. Saw blades quickly revved up, held their speed momentarily, and gradually spun down.

Wood shop class was the one class Teddy felt was important. Everyone had to come to him to get their project lumber. He was in charge. All the students had to wear working gloves in the class, making Teddy’s condition invisible. He felt relieved, but not enough to let his guard down.

Mr. Turnbull approached the work table Teddy stood at and asked him how his crate was coming along.

Teddy had finished applying wood varnish and set the project down.

“Your craftmanship shows. You really applied yourself on this one.” Mr. Turnbull stated.

Teddy blushed and continued staring at his completed crate. Other students were far behind in progress, and most struggled to operate the machinery with confidence.

“Thank you Mr. Turnbull, but I think I could have bevelled the edges a bit more to fit with the look.”

The teacher walked around the table, which allowed him to see every facet of Teddy’s project.

“You should feel confident in your work, and I think this is great. No one else in this class knows how to make dovetail joints like you do.” beamed Mr. Turnbull.

Teddy began to blush, but the sound of laughter interrupted him. Teddy turned his head to the far end of the workshop and saw Derek Simpson with his friends.

“Can you watch the shop while I run to the front office? There is an invoice I have to drop off before the end of this period.” Mr. Turnbull said to Teddy.

“Sure” Teddy replied. “If it’s okay with you, I was going to sit down anyway now that my crate is done”.

As Mr. Turnbull stepped out of the workshop, Teddy headed toward the workshop classroom.

The classroom was empty and was in contrast eerily quiet.

It was normal for the teacher to step out of class, as Teddy was a role-model student teachers could trust. 

Teddy sat behind the teachers desk, allowing him to see all the students on the surveillance camera monitors. Three screens were in front of him, showing the busy students working. The pupils were still on the beginning steps of the woodworking project, struggling with each step.  

The boy relaxed, knowing that there was no one else in the room. He took off his gloves. As the gloves were removed from his hands, a golden liquid oozed out. His vulnerability was the highest with his hands exposed. He felt the anxiety rising to his throat.

A blood-curdling scream filled the workshop. Teddy stood up and ran out of the classroom. 

At the far end of the workshop was Derek Simpson’s body on a table saw. As Derek cut plywood for his project, the saw blade sucked in his fingers, his arm wedged between the saw in a mangled mess. The piercing shrieks of the boy overpowered the sounds of the workshop’s power tools. Blood began to engulf the cutting surface of the table saw and drip off the edge. 

As Teddy approached the table saw, he saw how the fear of death was written on Derek’s face. His face was devoid of all colour. The saw blade was still spinning, slowly tugging down the remainder of Derek’s arm.

“Help me!” Derek mustered to yell at Teddy.

Teddy ran to the wall socket where the saw plugged in. Teddy tried to stop the machine, but was unsuccessful. 

His fingers slipped as he tried to unplug it from the wall. At the last moment, he turned around and shouted, “No!”

The surrounding students watched in horror as Derek Simpson’s shoulder was fed through the saw. Blood splattered the students adjacent to Derek, painting their clothes a bright red. The boy’s arm ripped from the shoulder socket, dismembering it from the torso. A fine red mist exploded into the air and coated the ceiling. Derek’s corpse crashed onto the workshop floor, his eyes wide open. 

Teddy stared in disbelief at Derek’s lifeless body.

“If only I could have helped you,” he thought.

[absolutelyfizzing]

He can't hurt you anymore

Bucky x reader

Description - Reader is the barista that Bucky has befriended at his local coffee shop but he thinks you may be hiding something. Your boyfriend might not be as kind as he tries to come off as. One day Bucky investigates and intervenes. Takes place around TFATWS but the shield isn't a factor. After the events of Endgame. Its pretty platonic Buck x Reader but it's sort of implied that future romance is probably a thing.

Warnings - TW DOMESTIC ABUSE!!! This is a big part of the story, if this is triggering for you, DO NOT READ THIS!! If you are in a situation where you need help getting out of an abusing household please get help. also endgame spoilers! Theres some cussing as well and female pronouns are used.

Word count - 4700 ish?

A/N - I am writing this from how an abusive relationship was for ME, how I acted, and the ways that I felt. This is in no way a generalization of how these situations are for most people nor is it a romanticization of abuse. Please reach out to someone or even me if you need help or you want to talk about anything. Do not read this story if you will be harmed by reading this, PLEASE.

MASTERLIST

Bucky's favorite part of his day was when he went to get coffee from the small shop down the street from his apartment. He didn't have many places he liked to go outside of the small room that he often felt trapped him but he knew that it was good for him to get out and interact with people. His therapist had told him as much.

He really didn't even like the coffee that much, he found that it made him jittery, but he went just to say hi to you. He always got the same order and usually got there around the same time so sometimes you would even have his coffee ready just as he was walking in. When you did things like that it made his heart flutter. He liked you in a romantic way but you only ever lightly flirted. Not wanting to scare you away, he never pressed and he kept his conversation moderately friendly. He had noticed that sometimes you seemed off. More so than he would say might be caused by a bad day.

On these days your eyes would be flying around the room and your hands shaky. You normally had bags under your eyes and you might even have bruises around your body. He also noticed that on those days you would cover up more but he could catch a glimpse of a purple bruise on your arm under your sleeve when you moved.

As he walked into the shop, he saw that today would be one of those days. He had been going to the coffee shop that you were at for probably 6 months and he had never seen you this shaken up. You seemed to be fully zoned out as you automatically did the cleaning in front of you. He had to clear his throat a bit to get you to notice him and when he did he regretted it. You flinched and your shoulders tensed before looking over to him. You relaxed a bit and a wide smile appeared on your face. He could vaguely tell it seemed to be fake but it was one of the best fake smiles he had ever seen. He almost commented on it before he noticed the bruises on your neck and arm.

"You okay?" He questioned, eyebrow quirked and his tone lightly teasing. He guessed they might be from whoever you were sleeping with having been a bit rough, something that he wouldn't have judged you for anyway. When you tensed up a bit and drew your hand to your neck he saw the look of slight fear cross your eyes.

"Oh I'm fine!" You recovered, "Didn't have time to cover them up this morning." You smiled and put your arm back down. It looked like you were going with his guess that they were from your boyfriend but in a non threatening way. His smile lessened a bit and he got out his wallet.

"Well, you know the drill. Medium americano with cream and sugar please." He sighed and he put some money in your tip jar while winking at you. You blushed and nodded before turning around to get started on his order.

While you were turned around he heard the bell on the door ring signaling that someone had entered. He turned to see who it was only to be met with an unfamiliar face. This was a bit of a rare occurrence considering he came here so often and he knew almost all of the other people who walked in. This man was large and domineering. He didn't look abnormal in any way, just that his eyes didn't hold the kindness that Bucky searched for when meeting someone new. The man pushed past Bucky to stand at the counter and knocked on it loudly, trying to get your attention. When you turned, you looked like you saw a ghost.

James studied you carefully as the color slowly came back to your face and the large smile that didn't quite seem right was plastered on your face again.

"Hey, babe! Can I get you something?" you asked him kindly and James realized that this must be your boyfriend. He noticed the slight waver that was in your voice as you spoke to to man and the way that your hands began to shake a bit.

"No thanks, I just wanted to check on you to see how you were doing and to apologize again. I was just heading in to work." Your boyfriend smiled and you flinched for a moment before taking a deep breath, bracing yourself.

"No worries, I already told you I forgave you." You grinned, this one looking more like it reached your eyes. "Have a good day at work!" You chirped at him. His hand came to your cheek and James saw you flinch before the man leaned in to kiss you. As soon as he pulled away and left, you turned back to the drink you were making for Buck and your hands were unsteady.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He tentatively asked. He didn't want to push but he had a bad feeling stuck in his stomach.

You turned to him, ready drink in hand, "I'm doing great, thank you for asking, James" You smiled and Bucky nearly swooned when you used his name. He adjusted his glove a bit and fidgeted with the sleeve on his metal arm, a habit he had when he was anxious.

"Do you mind if I drink it up here? I'd love to chat a bit." He did this pretty often. There was a seat next to the counter for employees that he would occupy on days where the shop wasn't too busy. You gazed at him and nodded enthusiastically.

"How are you now that you're all settled into the new place?" You asked gently and he smiled. He appreciated that you remembered details about him. It made him feel less crazy for having known so much about you.

"It's good! The bed still doesn't feel right and there are still boxes lying around but I cant seem to get myself to unpack all the way. If I didn't have this part of my day then I think I'd be bored out of my mind" He said. You blushed a bit and smiled. You always liked hearing about how he was doing, you worried about him. He had told you at some point that he was a veteran and that he had some issues adapting to his new life. You didn't bring it up often so as to not scare him off but you liked to check in when you could.

"You might want to start looking for something else to occupy your time then, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be here." You mumbled. You were still smiling a bit but your gaze had saddened.

"What do you mean? Are you leaving the city? Heading back home?" he questioned quickly. You had told him that you weren't originally from New York. You chuckled a bit at his panic.

"No, but might be moving in with my boyfriend, that guy who came in earlier." You explained but he still had a confused look on his face.

"Why does that mean you wont be working here?"

"Oh I don't know, he is trying to get me to quit while I'm figuring out life and stuff. Thinks I might be more helpful around the house and he has enough to support us both." you tried to explain but you knew the logic in your statement was flawed. The reality was that your boyfriend wanted you to be financially dependent on him but you were ignoring that as the bruises around your throat reminded you what happened to girlfriends who talked back. You looked into Bucky's eyes to find him staring sadly.

"You should be able to keep working if you want to."  He sounded urgent and you laughed it off.

"You're just mad cause you won have an excuse to see your favorite barista anymore." As you turned back to the cleaning around the shop to do. It was a quiet morning so the silence was slightly deafening. You both didn't speak for a couple minutes before James broke the silence.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked very lightly. Like he didn't want to scare you off. "I'm guessing your boyfriend left those marks and earlier when he came in-"

"It was an accident" You stated quickly. Urgently. Pleadingly. You still weren't looking at him but you had stopped cleaning. "He didn't mean to, he felt bad about it." You continued before turning to James. There were tears in your eyes and you tried to smile reassuringly.

"Those kinds of accidents shouldn't happen, Y/N" He muttered, trying not to make you feel attacked at all but also wanting to let you know that he knew something was wrong.

"It was my fault." You began.

"There is no way-"

"No it was. I messed something up and-and it was on me. James, you don't need to worry about me." Your voice was shaking a bit. "Please, don't worry about me." you were pleading. Your eyes were begging.

You both stood in silence for a moment before you began moving around. You didn't really have a task to be doing but you couldn't be still. You just couldn't be still.

"I am worried" he whispered and you felt the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. You knew you situation wasn't good but you didn't feel like there was anything you could do. And you were partially still convinced that your boyfriend didn't mean it, even though past experiences had already proved you wrong. You knew that after the 5th time, it wasn't accidental. But fear and guilt held you back. You were not an aggressive person. When he yelled at you he made you feel weak. You crumbled. You would never be able to escape.

You went through the rest of your shift in moderate silence. You worked when customers came in and when they left you would try to make yourself seem busy around the shop. James sat patiently, you knew he was gong to want to walk you back to your boyfriend's apartment. Your stomach clenched as you prayed that your boyfriend wouldn't be home.

After your shift you agreed to let James walk you home, you only lived a few blocks away. You didn't talk much and you felt guilty for creating that atmosphere. When you reached your building you stopped and turned to him.

"Thank you for walking me home." You smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked and Bucky nodded.

When you turned to head into you building, he didn't leave. He waited. He knew something was wrong but he didn't want to create a mess for you if he didn't need to. He stood against the building before walking in behind someone who was entering. He made his way to the address he had caught on your key earlier and stopped about 3 floors down from yours. He wouldn't intervene unless you needed him and he could listen in from further away. One of the few times he was thankful for the super serum.

"Where have you been?" a growl sounded.

"I was just-"

"Your shift ended 30 minutes ago. Were you talking to that leather wearing asshole? Huh?" There was a yell. "Were you cheating on me, you bitch?!"

"No, babe, Bucky just walked me home, he was just being nice. The person taking over my shift was just a little-"

"He walked you home?" He screamed, "You're just whoring yourself out to anyone now, huh?"

At this point Bucky had heard enough but he noticed that the stairs were closed and the elevator was taking forever. He was hitting himself for not going up to your floor to be more prepared. His heart was pounding and he could feel his eyes watering.

"Babe, I'm sorry, he didn't mean anything by it, I promise-"

He heard a yelp and something making impact and he decided he was done waiting. He didn't know why the stairs were closed but it didn't matter. He broke the door to the stairwell open and he sprinted up them as fast as possible. It was easier to hear your whimpers as he got closer and he could still hear hitting.

When he made it to the door he didn't hesitate to break it in. When he entered the apartment he felt eyes on him. In the corner of your living room you were hunched in a corner, breathing heavily with tears streaming down your face and a fresh broken lip, your boyfriend leering over you with his fist clenched.

"Get the fuck away from her." Bucky felt himself growl. He didn't want to hurt this guy in front of you, knowing that would traumatize you more, but it was taking everything in him not to snap his neck right then.

"What the fuck are you gonna do?" Your boyfriend sneered, "You have no right to come in here and tell be how I'm supposed to deal with my girlfriend. Get the fuck out!" Your boyfriend had moved away from you and you took a bit of a breath. Bucky noticed the shaking of your body as you breathed and he saw red.

Before he really considered what he was doing Bucky was already moving toward the man in the middle of the room, his metal hand clenched. He moved to grab your boyfriend's arm and when he tried to block, going into the fight cocky, Bucky decided he would put him in his place. With what seemed to be minimal effort, Bucky turned the mans arm around and jammed his knee into his back. Once your boyfriend was on the floor, in less than 10 seconds, Bucky had his knee on his chest and his metal arm on his neck.

"You will never lay another finger on her again, you understand me? You're gonna go to fucking prison and you'll never be able to get near her again." Bucky growled at the man who was struggling futilely beneath him. He pressed on his neck harder and waited for his body to give out, holding long enough that he would be knocked out for at least a few minutes so he could get you out of there.

Bucky looked up at you and you were still shaking in the corner, seemingly still terrified. You looked so different from the girl he had come to know. Bucky realized that he might have just made you more scared of him but he knew it was worth it to get you out of the situation. You gulped and took a deep shaky breath before moving to stand up. Bucky moved to stand also to go over and help you but you immediately say back down.

"Hey, doll. I'm not gonna hurt you-" Bucky started but you cut him off.

"I know, I know I just..." You took another shallow breath and looked at the man Bucky was no longer holding down. He could get free and move toward you now if he were to wake up. Bucky understood your gaze sighed a bit, looking around the apartment he now realized probably belonged to your boyfriend. He then noticed the belt on your boyfriend and moved to take it off so he could tie him up with it. He heard you whimper and he made a guess as to why, his heart clenching once again. He quickly bound the large man's hands and attached him to a support beam in the middle of the room. He checked the bindings using larger movements than he needed to so that you would see they were tight from your spot across the room. Bucky then stood and slowly made his way near you. Instead of trying to get very close, he opted to sit against the wall about halfway between you and the man tied up in the room, trying to make sure that you didn't feel threatened by him and that you knew your boyfriend was no longer a threat.

"I'm gonna call a friend okay? You're okay now." Buck said gently to you and you nodded. Your eyes were watery as tears began to fall and you scooted a little closer to Bucky, still not sitting close enough to touch. Bucky made no move to push you.  He instead just dialed the only person he could think of.

"Hey, Sam... You in town?.. I know but I need some help. I need the police here and if you could drive too that would be great. I got someone here I don't want going in a cop car... I know that's a lot to ask but I wouldn't be asking if it weren't serious... Please?.. That would be great if she's there." It seemed that the 'please' made the person on the other line agree. Bucky hung up and looked toward you. "Someone's on the way, okay? Do you need anything right now or need any medical help thats urgent?"He tried to be gentle but he couldn't hide the fear in his voice. If there was severe damage somewhere he needed to know now.

"N-no, it wasn't that bad. It's just my face and my ribs I guess but I've healed from worse." You mumbled, trying to be reassuring but then realizing that you may have made him feel worse. "I'm sorry" You mumbled as the tears began again.

"Whoa, what on earth are you sorry for?" Bucky asked as he felt his own eyes begin to water.

"Its just that-" you took a breath for a moment and tried to calm your shaking, "this isn't your job and I'm sorry that you have to deal with it and that I couldn't do it on my own." You cried a bit, Bucky barely being able to make out your words with how quietly you were speaking. He wasn't entirely sure how to help. He experimentally slid a hand along the floor toward you going very slowly so you could move or tell him to stop if you wanted. Instead you moved your hand and reached out so your fingers were touching on the floor. You still didn't move closer to him but the nonthreatening contact made you feel a bit better. He spoke up quietly.

"Y/N, I know this has been a really hard day for you and probably been rough for however long you've been with that asshole but you need to understand that this is not your fault. You did not make him do this to you and you did not deserve it. You will never be in a room alone with him again, okay?" He made decisive eye contact with you and you nodded a bit. "I am going to make sure that nothing happens to you now, I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you again." He sounded reassuring and you scooted just close enough that his hand was holding yours. He smiled lightly at you and you jumped as you heard a knock at the doorframe of the entrance where the door had been practically broken off its hinges.

You tensed up immediately and Bucky stood a bit protectively in front of you, letting go of your hand in the process. You saw a tall kind looking man at the doorway, his frame slightly hunched to make sure that he didn't startle you too much. You looked at him a bit fearfully and took a deep breath before glancing at Bucky and then smiling lightly at the man in the doorway. He watched you carefully as he stepped into the apartment.

"Hey there, my name is Sam, I'm just gonna get him out of here. There's a police car with his name on it downstairs. I brought someone with me who's going to help get you out of here to somewhere safe, okay?" He smiled at you as he moved toward the man tied up in the center of the room. As the bindings came off you skittered back toward the corner a bit and only eased once he was dragged out of the room. From the doorway came a redhead with bags under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't gotten good sleep in a while and you felt like you recognized her from somewhere.

"I'm Pepper, is it okay if I come in?" She looked nice and she had a motherly presence. You nodded and smiled a bit. Her gaze softened further and she walked slowly toward you and as she walked past Bucky she touched his arm lightly, conveying something that you didn't quite understand. "Can I help you up?" she asked as she stood in front of you, her hand reached out. You nodded and put your hand in hers, allowing her to pull you up. You felt the damage that had been done more clearly when you stood up, there was definitely something wrong with your ribs and your stomach. She carefully and slowly put an arm around your shoulders as she herded you out of the apartment. you looked back to where Bucky was standing and he smiled at you reassuringly but his eyes seemed sad. You let yourself be led to a car outside with a man that Pepper called "Happy" driving. She sat in the back with you and made casual one sided conversation to put you at ease.

Back at your apartment Bucky began to try to pack you a bag. He knew that Pepper would take good care of you and wouldn't let anything happen. He would meet you at the Avengers tower later, assuming you would be staying there until you felt comfortable living by yourself at your own apartment again. He moved through your ex's apartment with a critical gaze, noting holes in the wall and a gun in the corner. He presumed it was to protect against home intruders but he didn't doubt that it had been used to threaten you too. He found the bedroom and got to work getting some things that he thought you might want like a hoodie that looked like yours and some personal belongings that were clearly your possessions. He was trying very hard not to accidentally grab something that was your ex's and once he had a full bag he headed out. He saw Sam leaned against the wall outside your building and Bucky immediately got worried.

"Wheres-"

"He's already booked at the precinct, I've got my guys on it and he isn't going anywhere." Sam reassured, having known what Bucky was going to ask. They began walking to the tower, not wanting to get in a car and knowing that the walk wasn't going to be too long.

"Sorry I had to call you, I know you were probably busy. I just didn't know who else to ask." Bucky stated quietly.

"You did the right thing, Buck. You probably saved that girl's life back there." Sam smiled a bit at the man next to him and Bucky felt a smile tug at his mouth too.

They both made light conversation as they made their way back to the tower. When they did, Bucky took a deep breath. He hadn't been back here since right after Steve left. He hadn't seen Pepper in a long time either. He needed to talk to her when he got inside to thank her and to see if she was okay. He knew she probably didn't want to see him very much but she had still helped you when he asked.

Back at the tower you were finally cleared from the medical wing. You were still shaky but you were masking it pretty well and you were about back to where you functioned daily where you could fake smiles if you needed to. Pepper stayed by you the whole time and you met a little girl named Morgan who was very excited to tell you stories that put you at ease. Eventually Pepper led you to a room that she said you could use to sleep and shower in for now and that you could call the AI if you needed anything at all. You asked it to tell you when Bucky got back and it said it would. You also now knew that you recognized her as Iron Man's wife but you didn't mention it, knowing she had lost her husband semi-recently. You also recognized that Sam, who you had met earlier, was the Falcon. Then came the question of who was Bucky. You knew there was a James Barnes associated with the Avengers but you'd never seen him and you knew he had a metal arm, something that you weren't sure was  part of Bucky. You showered and cried again in the shower but this time out of relief. You realized that you didn't have to go home to that awful man and that you were finally safe.

The AI, you thought you'd heard Pepper call it FRIDAY, let you know that Bucky was in the building along with Sam. You dressed in the clothes that pepper had given to you, a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt, and left your room. You carefully padded down the hallway, prepared to ask FRIDAY where you were if you got lost. Instead you saw Bucky down a hallway carrying a bag that you recognized as your own. Now that you were a bit calmed down you knew what you had to do. You got closer to each other, Bucky smiling slightly, and he stopped so that he wouldn't get close to you if you didn't want him to. Instead you continued walking toward him until you got close enough that you could wrap your arms tightly around his waist. He stood in shock before dropping the bag and wrapping one of his arms around you tightly. You reached out to the other one and felt the hardness of it. You guessed then that he must be the winter soldier that you'd heard about but you continued to wrap it around yourself so that he was hugging you all the way. You took a deep breath and smiled slightly.

"Thank you, James." You murmured and you heard his heart pick up its pace. He tightened his arms around you and sighed.

"You’re welcome, doll" he accepted the thanks with a bit of apprehension but this wasn't the time to argue about whether or not thanks were needed. "I promise I'm not going to let anything happen to you again." He stated quietly and he was reassuring himself more than you. Your arms tightened around him more and he decided that he would protect you with all he had if you would let him.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 5

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 5

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and light smut.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

******

You didn’t grow up with hugs, so you never really understood the big deal about them. Nothing irritated you more than when acquaintances wanted to hug you. Over the years you’d learned to accept it and go with the flow but intimate gestures from people you barely knew made you uncomfortable. The only time you didn’t mind being hugged was by Davina and even then she was careful not to overdo it. But right now, with Billy’s arms locked around you, you pressed up against him, he felt so good, so solid, you never wanted to leave his embrace. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so cherished, and the fact that it was Billy – you didn’t want to think about what that meant.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his shoulders, simply breathing him in.

At first the comfort Billy provided was enough to distract you from what happened today, but then you were suddenly struck by the memory of Adam pointing his gun at you. Thanks to your father’s outbursts you learned a long time ago to stay calm in hostile situations, and that skill came in handy this morning. While Adam spewed hatred at you and accused you of destroying his life, you kept him preoccupied and talking until the cops came up and managed to haul him away. But once the danger subsided, all of that unleashed fear came back with a vengeance and you hadn’t been able to shake it off since then. Shopping, and then Billy’s unexpected arrival, had provided a temporary distraction but it was still lingering in you, threatening to engulf you at any moment.

Your fingers trailed up Billy’s back. One hand cradled the nape of his neck while the other reached up to play with his hair. He was so tall you had to stand on your tip-toes to run your fingers through his silky strands. You dropped a soft kiss on his chest, over his sweater, then on his skin as your lips dragged up to the base of his throat. His hands caressed languidly down your back, and you groaned when he squeezed your ass. Your hips ground into his, needing more from him than he was giving.

Adam’s face flashed through your mind, his sheer hatred of you stamped across his angry features. Your chest felt constricted, like you couldn’t breathe.

Before you could change your mind, you reached up to kiss Billy.

Every thought in your head instantly dissipated.

You’d forgotten what it felt like to have his mouth devour yours, hot and wild and reckless, tongue on tongue, tongue against teeth, nothing about it soft or tender but simple, pure assault on your senses. He didn’t just kiss with his mouth, he kissed with his whole being, every movement of his reverberating throughout your body. Even something innocuous like his fingers fisting your hair heightened your desires, making you more frantic.

Usually he was very much in sync with what you wanted, he could read when you were in the mood for slow and sensuous, or when you wanted to be fucked hard and rough, and he always delivered. But today he seemed to want to take his time even though you kept pushing for more. Charging forward, you trapped him against the wall behind, kissing him ferociously while your hands rushed to the buttons on his jeans. As you tried to undo them your fingers shook violently, frustrating you so badly that you tore your mouth away from his just so you could focus on ripping them off.

“Y/N,” he groaned, panting.

You didn’t look at him, too busy unzipping his jeans.

“Y/N, slow down…”

Your fingers delved beneath his boxers to palm his cock. You missed the feel of him, the touch of him, how slick he felt in your hands when he was hard. Before Billy you never thought cocks were beautiful but his was thick, long and divine, made to give you the most incredible of pleasures. Your mouth and pussy thirsted for him-  

Abruptly, Billy grabbed your shoulders and forced you to back off.

Caught up in passion, your brain scrambled to figure out why he was no longer touching you. Breaths labored, you stared up at him, confused, as he pulled up his jeans. Before you could catch your breath he was whirling you around, forcing you against the wall, gripping your wrists tightly over your head. His penetrating eyes bore into you, like he could see right through you or something, and the thought scared you. Leaning forward you tried to kiss him but he angled back, rejecting your attempts.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Just stop. Okay?”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“I do but-”

“Isn’t this why you showed up here?”

“Look, you’re messed up right now.”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, struggling to release your arms from his grip. “I want this, ok? I want you. Let me show you. Let me fuck you.”

He focused on you closely, his eyes dark and stormy, before he finally loosened his grasp. When you moved to cradle his face, he retreated back. Forget kissing you, he didn’t even touch you. Instead, he knelt down to pick up your robe from the ground and cover you with it. That’s when you noticed you were naked. You hadn’t even realized your robe had slipped off.

You were naked and desperately throwing yourself at him and he was purposely rejecting you. It felt like a slap in the face. You were mortified.

Pushing him away you tightened the robe around you and tried to sidestep past him. Except he blocked your path.

You tried again, he did the same.

“What?” You snarled, swallowing the lump in your throat. You were embarrassed as hell but you’d die before telling him that.  

He tilted your chin, forcing you meet his stare. In turn, you glared at him.

“Sex isn’t going to make you forget what happened this morning,” he said softly.

“Maybe I just wanted to feel something good.”

“Doesn’t last long. Then you’re stuck feeling shitty again.”

You were tired of his sanctimonious bullshit. He of all people shouldn’t have been lecturing you on using sex as a distraction. “Like you’ve never used me for sex?”

“Fine, yeah, I have. And I don’t want to be used in the same way.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!”

“I don’t want you to regret being with me.”

The intensity in his eyes was spellbinding, piercing you right through to the core. You trembled when he brushed your cheek with his fingers, your heart pounding. Throughout your time together, you’d studied and learned many of his expressions and nuances. The excited bounce in his movements when Anvil booked a new client, the underlying bitterness in his words on those days he’d gone to visit his mother, how dark and glossy his eyes shined when he was about to come. But the way he was watching you now – this was new to you. This was dangerous territory. The last thing you wanted was to get caught up in Billy Russo again.

You wrenched his hand away. “If I have regrets, I wouldn’t bother you with them.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Anyway, I told you yesterday. If we have sex again, I’d see it as closure.”

The shift in his eyes was instant. A second ago there had been warmth in his gaze, now there was only disdain. “So you can move on?”  

“Not just me. You too.”

Molten eyes narrowed into slits. “Maybe I don’t want to move on.”

“What does that even mean?”

His jaw was clenched, his mouth set in a hard line. “Why do you have to make this so complicated? Why can’t we just go back to how things were?”

“I threw myself at you five minutes ago and you rejected me! And now you’re telling me you want to keep sleeping together?” You massaged your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Are you purposely trying to fuck with my head?”

The sound of your phone vibrating loudly against the coffee table drew your attention. You marched over to see who was calling. Spotting Roger’s name, you tensed immediately. Why would he be calling you late at night unless it was to tell you Adam was being released? Your heart started pounding as you picked up the call. “Hey, Roger. What’s up?”

Billy snickered beside you and you cast him a dirty glance, turning away from him.

“How are you holding up? I was worried about you, I wanted to check in.”

You breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t calling with news about Adam. “I’m fine.”

“I received an email from HR. They said you refused an appointment with the therapist?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” you insisted. You’d tried the therapy route years ago and found it to be a waste of time.

“Unfortunately, it’s not optional. You know how it is. Insurance. Liability. All of that. We just need to make sure you’re okay.”

You exhaled a resigned sigh, rubbing the side of your head again. Today was not your day. “Fine. I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “And if you need to talk to me, I’m also here.”

“Thank you for the offer but I’m alright.”

“How about we meet for dinner tomorrow?  I want to run some ideas by you about the expansion.”

You groaned internally. You had a stack of work you needed to do and you were hoping to catch up on it this weekend, but turning down a work dinner with your boss wasn’t a smart idea. “Sure. Tomorrow night sounds good.”

“Any preferences?”

“How about Piatti’s?”

“You love that place, don’t you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s one of my faves.”

“I’ll make reservations for 7pm. See you then.”

“Yeah. Thanks for checking in, Roger.” You hung up and put the phone back on the coffee table.

“Yeah, Roger, thanks for checking in.”

Hearing Billy imitating your voice, you turned around to find him balanced against the edge of the sofa arm, his long legs sprawled in front of him. Arms crossed, he was staring at you with a stern expression. “Isn’t that sweet? First his negligence almost gets you killed, and then he checks in to play the hero.”

You frowned at him. If he was anyone else, you would have thought they were jealous – but you knew Billy didn’t feel that way about you.

His lips twisted into a sneer. “And of course you eat it all up. Because he’s such a fucking sweetheart.”

“What is your problem with him? He’s a nice guy, and he was actually really great with me today.”

“I bet.” Billy’s voice was laced with hostility. “Nice. Sweet. He’s checking of all the right boxes, isn’t he? But can loverboy get you wet? Would he even know how to make you come?”

You finally snapped. “Are you jealous or something?”

Silence hung in the air as he simply stared at you, his jaw ticking. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my fucking girlfriend.”

His words may have hurt, but they also served as a cruel reminder of why you needed to walk away. “That’s right. I’m not. So this thing you’re doing…” You wagged you index finger back and forth between you and Billy. “This interrogation stops now. I don’t answer to you. Who I’m seeing, who I’m fucking, who I’m interested in, it’s none of your business. So stay out of my life and I’ll stay out of yours.”

He stood up to his full height, probably trying to intimidate you. However you held firm, leveling him with a heated glare as he closed the distance between you. His eyes were cold, contempt etched on his face. “Bring the vibrator on your date night with Roger. Probably only way he can get you off.”

“Fuck you, Billy!”

“Not interested, sweetheart,” he snarked back, walking past you.

When you heard the door shut a few seconds later, you walked over to lock it.

You spent the rest of the evening trying to distract yourself from the warring thoughts in your head. When it wasn’t Adam’s face haunting you, it was Billy mocking you. You tried watching a movie but that did nothing. You attempted working next, but you couldn’t focus. Eventually you realized there was only one thing you could do to lessen the fear. You needed to get ahead of it. Adam may have been angry and unhinged, but he came from a powerful family. Even if he couldn’t be controlled, they could be. So you did what you always did to protect yourself. You started acquiring information you could use as leverage against your enemies.

Part 6

A/N - Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the likes, reblogs, comments, feedback and the asks. I’m so grateful to have wonderful readers like you. As always, if you have the time, I’d love to read your thoughts on this chapter.

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know. A few people have asked to be tagged, but for whatever reason, Tumblr wouldn’t let me. I still have you on the list, though you may not receive notifications.

Tag List

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[kairos-polaris]

Revelations and not so secret crushes

A little gift for @bunathebunny . Also @miraculousmelodies , like I promised

People make mistakes all the time. And it's okay! Failure is a part of progress and if you never fail, then you don't do anything at all.

One may argue that mistaking potions for milk and eating someone's special macaroons wasn't this type of mistake. "He should have been more careful," they say. But did you try to make coffee in a kitchen littered with potions while also being sleep deprived? No? Thought so.

The last paragraph was specifically written for Dick's younger brothers, Jason Todd and Tim Drake. Those two decided that it was a great idea to make fun of their dearest elder brother and his very unfortunate mistake. And even if Tim was perfectly aware of struggles that came with making coffee while being sleep deprived, he didn't have to worry that white liquid may be a potion, not milk.

But in the end Dick was very grateful for that small mistake. It has resolved several conflicts and had very unpredictable consequences.

***

It was morning. Just a normal winter morning. You know, when it's too dark and far too cold and you don't want to leave your bed? That was a morning like that.

Normal men don't get up at six a.m but Richard "Dick" Grayson wasn't one. And it's good, because his family was neither normal nor sane.

"Being normal is boring," his girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, would say. If it were someone else, Dick would wholeheartedly agree with them while hanging upside down from the chandelier in the manor.

But because it was Marinette, Dick had to immediately assume she hasn't been sleeping or eating healthy for the last 48 hours. Usually, he was wrong, but he did enjoy taking care of her.

Another proof that shows how much Dick Grayson isn't a normal or sane man is vigilantism. You see, normal people deal with trauma by talking about it with a therapist or their friends. And do you know what did Dick do? He donned his family's colour and decided to beat up criminals. What a great idea! And Bruce Wayne allowed it because, apparently, fighting crime is an appropriate hobby for a nine-year-old boy. (Don't worry, Brucie, we know that Dick Grayson is too stubborn and he forced you to make him your sidekick, we don't blame you much)

No matter how much not normal or insane Dick was, he was a good man who wanted to help people. That's why he didn't complain to Bruce about being tired after patrols. Much.

It didn't mean he didn't complain to Marinette though. Hugs and kisses were an added bonus to her being a very good listener. But that morning Marinette was too busy to even notice him. Dick tried his hardest to swallow his disappointment. He knew how important every commission was to Marinette. It was her passion and her life.

He sighed with the most miserable expression he could muster but Marinette didn't even look up. She continued sewing and ignoring his brilliant performance. Dick huffed with annoyance. How could she ignore him when he was sitting on their bed looking so sad and exhausted and hot?

***

Kitchen was the best room in their apartment. It was also the safest one because of Marinette's protection charms and spells. There was always a faint smell of pastry and delicious food.

Preparing coffee was completely mechanical. His tiredness didn't let him comprehend his own actions. That's why he didn't notice the strange taste of the drink as he should have.

Dick immediately felt better after finishing his coffee. He felt like a burden was lifted from his shoulders. It made him think about Marinette. His lovely girlfriend. He wanted to, no, he craved to see her. He could bet she smelled amazing.

Marinette was still working when he entered their room (she preferred her bedroom to any office). His heart swelled with tenderness at the image before him. Marinette was biting her lip, strands of hair in her face. She was also wearing his sweater, which made him roll his eyes, because it was the very same sweater he had lost. She was so concentrated that she didn't even notice him entering their bedroom.

Dick slowly approached Marinette to not spook her. "I love you, Cupcake," he confessed out of blue. Marinette jumped at the sound of his voice making Dick cringe internally. "I'm sorry for startling you, Mari." The woman just laughed and took off her glasses. Apparently, sewing in deem light isn't good for your eyes. And how could she know that?

"No, don't be sorry. I should pay more attention to my surroundings," Marinette suddenly stopped mid sentence. "I'm sorry for ignoring you earlier, Birdy. Do you want a hug?" Dick grinned at her offer and immediately scooped her in his arms.

"I know it's been a stressful week. What do you think about staying in bed the whole day? We can watch a movie. We can watch the Ladybug one and make fun of inaccuracies. Or any other superhero movie," he ranted excitedly. Marinette laughed a little and pulled back slightly. Dick's was adorable, but Marinette had a feeling that he wouldn't appreciate her laugh.

"I have to finish this dress for Clara, you know that," Marinette sighed tiredly. She really wanted to take a break and spend the day with her boyfriend. He always knew when she was too tired to continue working. Maybe, today was a day like that?

It was unfair to keep Marinette from her passion and Dick knew it. But! He wanted to spend some time with his wonderful girlfriend. It wasn't his fault she was the cutest person he has ever met. And he still couldn't make her choose between her passion and him. Dick sighed and started moving slowly to let Marinette out.

"Hey, I didn't say no," Marinette laughed at his hopeful gaze. "Yes, I would really like to spend more time with you."

And that's how Marinette found herself suffocating in a tight grip of her boyfriend. She actually didn't mind it. Feeling his weight on her body was the best feeling ever. It reminded her that he was with her, grounded her, when she was too concentrated on her work.

Marinette didn't really focus on the movie that was playing. Something was off and she couldn't focus. Dick was talking but she couldn't understand a word so focused on her feelings.

"...Marinette? Marinette?" Dick's worried voice drew her out of haze. She could see concern in his eyes so she tried smiling as reassuring as possible. Dick didn't seem convinced but hard lines on his face relaxed a little bit.

"I'm sorry. I dozed off. Cuddling with you always makes me sleepy, you know that." Dick sighed and hugged her even tighter. "What were you talking about?"

"I wanted your opinion about the next Titan's mission. You see, Wally has offered this strategy…"

Marinette listened to his every word very attentively. His excitement was obvious in every line and small movement. He was proud of Wally and his ideas, he wanted to share it with her.

"Do you know that you've spent more time complimenting Wally than actually relaying his strategy?" Marinette asked with a teasing smile. His face and neck were immediately covered with red spots.

"I… I… I have a crush on Wally!" Dick blurted out and Marinette felt like all air from her lungs disappeared. Colour left Dick's face immediately after realising what he had said. He started babbling how much he loved her, how important she was for him, he kissed her cheeks and hands. But all Marinette could focus on was that… she had lost a bet. Jason would be unbearable for the next several weeks. Or maybe even months. Marinette shuddered at the thought.

"Marinette, please, say something. Please. I'm sorry," Dick was clearly panicking and for a moment Marinette wanted to prank him. Pretend that she was hurt and then explain that it was because of her bet with Jason. But it felt too cruel, so she took his hand and smiled reassuringly.

"I knew it," she said, and Dick's bewildered expression was worth her honesty. "And it's okay, because it's possible to love multiple people at the same time. You loving Wally doesn't mean you don't love me." Dick stayed still for a long moment before leaning to her and knocking her breath out with a kiss. Marinette tried to lean away but he chased her lips every time, continuing kissing her.

"I love you so much. I don't know what I have done to deserve someone like you, but I will keep you until the end of the Universe," he whispered into her lips when they finally pulled a part.

"I love you, too. And falling for you felt like the easiest thing in the world," she said breathlessly, making Dick snort. He let out an involuntary whine when she leaned even further away.

"Why were you so upset?" Dick asked after several minutes of silence. Marinette murmured something into his shirt but he couldn't understand a word. "Can you repeat it please? I didn't understand a word you've said."

"Because I've lost a bet," she repeated just barely louder, but thankfully Dick heard her clearly this time.

"A bet?" he asked with the most confused and bewildered expression possible.

"You see, both Jason and I knew about your crush on Wally. And one day we were bored, so we started talking about you two. Jason said that you would blurt it out during an inappropriate moment but I thought you would sit me down and explain everything. So now, because of you I will have to give Jason 10 dollars," Marinette explained, carefully gouging hir reaction.

Dick prepared himself to hear a lot of different explanations. They varied from "I was surprised and didn't know how to react" to "I am unhappy with this and everything I said was for your comfort". He did not expect that the reason for her surprise was a bet. A bet. With his brother. His brother who also knew about his crush on Wally.

"How… How did you two find out? I thought I was doing a great job concealing my baby crush."

"Oh, it was so hard! You totally don't look at him with a stupid lovesick grin. And you totally don't laugh at his stupid jokes. You don't hold hands and touch each other all the time. You don't look both at me and him when you make jokes or laugh. Oh no! You do all of that and more!" Marinette exclaimed with a fake surprise.

"...I do?" Dick asked, his voice so small. "And you really don't mind it?"

"I really don't mind. As I said before, I'm secure in our relationship and I know that you love me. Also, I really like Wally. You have a good taste," Dick's smile at her words was brighter than thousands of suns. He picked her up and started spinning her around. Marinette's laugh filled their apartment, and in that moment Dick knew everything was going to be alright.

***

Later, much later, Dick was panicking. Everything sounded so easy when Marinette was with him. "Just go and confess to him,"she said. "I'm sure he feels the same," Marinette said, patient as ever, when Dick was panicking about every possible negative outcome.

"What if he rejects me? What if he wants me to break up with you?" he asked Marinette then. He tugged his hair from the frustration, but Marinette just smiled and took his hands.

"If he rejects you, I will hold you until you feel better. We will eat ice cream and watch cheesy movies. And Wally is a good person, I'm sure he would never ask us to break up." Dick briefly thanked all gods for giving him Marinette before leaning in to kiss her.

"I love you," he murmured into her lips.

But now he was alone in their apartment, because, unlike him, Marinette had a job to do. Dick sighed the tenth time in a row. He didn't have to worry about Marinette's reaction to his confession, because she was the one who had asked him out. "I don't hesitate anymore," she had said with a brilliant smile.

Well, Dick knew one thing for sure: he was a coward and would never confess to Wally without Marinette being there. And he couldn't ask anyone for advice. How does one explain that they are in love with two people at the same time? Should he just google it?

His musings were interrupted by a series of long knocks and a loud voice. Was it Jason screaming. "Hey, Dickhead, asking someone to hangout with you and then not showing up is such a dick move!" Yes, that was Jason. Dick scowled before remembering that he had invited Jason and Tim to spend time together.

He grinned and leaped out of the bedroom. Hanging out with his brothers would be a perfect excuse to not confess to Wally! A great timing on their part.

"Hey, guys..!" he was rudely interrupted by a shirt thrown into his face.

"Get dressed, Dickie bird. I don't want to see proofs of you and Pixie having a healthy sexual life." Dick flushed bright red when he realized that he was naked. He ran back to his bedroom followed by both Tim's and Jason's laugh. God, how embarrassing.

***

Wally was bored. He felt like he could die from boredom. And the day had started so nicely. He woke up early and prepared himself a very tasty cup of tea. Wally finished every small task around his apartment. He started reading several different books but none of them piqued his interest. There was nothing interesting on TV.

Wally sighed again. And again. And again. He felt like an aristocrat, laying on his coach with a wine glass full of water in his hand. The only thing missing was a manor. And nicer clothes. And servants. And wine. Actually, a lot of things were missing.

Jason's invitation to hangout felt like a blessing. Finally, something interesting to do. His heart totally didn't flutter in his chest when he found out that Dick would be there, too. No, sir, no. Dick was his best friend and nothing more. He was also dating Marinette, Wally's another very good friend.

Wally was the first one to arrive at the bar Dick had offered to meet in. It took all of his mental strength to not start bouncing from all the energy.

"Hi, Wally," Wally's smile dimmed a little when he realized it was Jason, not Dick. "I thought Dickie would be here first. You know, considering it was his idea."

Wally nodded at Jason's words. He thought he would have at least several minutes alone with Dick, who seemed to avoid him lately. And if he did pay attention to Wally, Marinette would always be there. It wasn't a bad thing per se, because Marinette was amazing, but Wally wanted some alone time with his best bro.

"I wonder why," Wally mussed at loud. Jason smiled in agreement and started talking about neutral themes. Wally could do that. After a day of pure boredom everything was interesting.

Twenty minutes later Tim was there, but Dick was nowhere in sight. Wally frowned. Did something happen? Dick would never miss family hangouts.

"You are late, Replacement," Jason chided Tim, conveniently forgetting he himself came later. Wally laughed at the sheer hypocrisy, but it was a very Jason move.

"Well, Dick is not here, so I don't think it counts," Tim shrugged. He was holding a half-empty cup of coffee (what else could it be?) and clearly needed more sleep. Wally internally shook his head. Sleeping as little as Tim was surely wasn't good for his health. Where were Dick and Bruce looking?

"Where is Dick anyway?" Jason asked, letting out an annoyed huff. "Did he do that so Timmy and I could hang out together? Not a very smart move, because I can just leave now and he will never know."

"He could have just forgotten about it," Wally suggested. He was met with two doubtful gazes. "Yeah, it's very unlikely. Something has happened and he can't leave?"

"Why didn't he say anything then?" Jason asked. He was leaning down on the wall of the bar with a small frown. "We should call him or Marinette."

"Marinette is working so she can't know where he is. We should call Dick directly," Tim said, already holding his phone. He was the one who dialed Dick, but Dick didn't answer not after the first call, nor the second, nor the third. Wally was worried. Dick always answered when someone called. Something must have happened.

"I was right. We should go and check on him. Should we walk or should I run to his apartment?" Wally asked, worry laced in his voice.

"Let's ride. I parked my car nearby," Tim said and turned around, walking to his car. Wally looked at Jason who just shrugged and went after Tim. Well, it seemed like he didn't have a choice then.

The ride to Dick's apartment felt longer than it should have. Wally was burning from all the anxious energy. What if something has happened to Dick? What if they were too late? What if Dick just didn't want to see them? Wally didn't know what would hurt more.

The apartment's doors were locked, which was a good sign. It meant that nobody had broken inside. It also meant that they couldn't enter. Fortunately, Tim had his own key so it wasn't a problem. ("Marinette gave it to me," Tim answered Wally's silent question. "She wanted me to know that I'm always welcome here". "Oh, Pixie didn't give me my own key! Does she not want to see my handsome face?" Jason asked more dramatically than needed. Wally totally wasn't disappointed that he didn't have his own key. It didn't mean that Dick didn't trust him, right?)

The apartment was clean, no visible signs of someone breaking in. Wally looked around, trying to find some clues that would help to understand the situation. Jason yelled something, but Wally didn't pay enough attention to understand him.

Wally turned around at the sound of Dick's voice only to look away immediately. He did not expect to see Dick naked. Wally blushed, thinking about the man's muscles and biceps, small scars on his chest and arms, scratches, and hickeys… Wally paled immediately. Oh, yes, hickeys, because Dick Grayson, his best friend, was dating Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Wally couldn't let himself forget.

It was easier to think after Dick had left. Now, Wally didn't have to use all of his mental strength to not ogle his best friend. Wally wondered why he had reacted this way. It's not like he had never seen Dick naked before. "You saw him when you were changing. You were both naked then. But here, it's much more intimate," his traitorous mind whispered.

"I'm not waiting for the golden boy to get dressed. I'm going to the kitchen. Pixie always has something sweet there," Jason said and walked out of the living room. Wally looked at Tim who just shrugged and followed his brother. Well, it seemed like he had no choice but to go to the kitchen.

The room was full of light and delicious smells. The table was littered with numerous vials, pastry, herbs, and other things Wally couldn't identify. He breathed out, feeling more relaxed than ever, despite his complicated feelings. Marinette's presence and influence were obvious there, and she always had the way to make people feel better. She was just magic that way.

"Wally! I didn't know you were here," Dick's excited voice interrupted his thoughts. Wally didn't even hear him coming in. Do not think about his body. Do not think about his body. Do not think about his body. "I'm really sorry about forgetting our hangout. I'm deeply ashamed."

"You wish I said "it's okay, I forgive you". But I won't! I will always tease you about it, so get ready!" said Jason, while rummaging through a freezer. "Where is milk, Dickhead? I wanted to make a cup of tea for myself, but I can't find anything here."

"Oh, we ran out of milk," Dick replied easily before a panicked expression settled on his face. "Wait… If we ran out of milk, then what did I add to my coffee this morning?"

"Welp, I hope it wasn't one of Marinette's potions," Wally offered sympathetically, but one look at Dick's panicked expression hinted that it was most likely what had happened. And wasn't that funny? Judging by Jason's laugh, he also thought it was hilarious.

"We can call her and ask about the effects of that particular potion?" Tim offered, trying to be serious but burst out laughing. Dick did not appreciate the lack of concern from his brothers. What if the potion hurt him and the effects could never be reversed? "It's very funny, but we really should call Marinette. We don't know how it can affect Dick. It could be really harmful," Tim said after calming down. Even Jason stopped laughing.

They did call Marinette. It must have been the smartest decision in several hours. But she didn't answer. Calling her five more times didn't help. They just were directed to voicemail. Marinette's cheery voice telling them "Hi! You've reached Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I'm very sorry, but I'm busy and can't answer you right now. You can leave me a message and I will call you later! Bye!" didn't help.

"And what should we do?" Wally asked, interrupting the awkward silence. Well, it wasn't awkward per se, but Jason desperately trying and failing to suppress his laugh did make Dick feel uncomfortable.

"You can try and recall everything that happened. This way we can know how exactly the potion affected you," Tim offered with a small shrug. "Start from the morning and up until this moment."

"I was really tired after patrol last night, so I tried complaining to Marinette, but she was too busy so she ignored me. I decided to make a cup of coffee. I actually felt better after it, but I had this strange need to go and hug Marinette, tell her how much I love her." Wally totally didn't feel a pang in his chest. He wasn't jealous. He didn't want Dick to confess to him, because they were best friends and nothing more.

"What happened next? Or are you hiding something?" Seemingly innocent questions (especially, considering it was Jason who asked) flustered Dick so much he was completely red. He's so handsome…no, bad, Wally, stop. "Oh, you are hiding something."

"Marinette and I cuddled, while watching movies," Dick answered, still as red as a tomato. "And then we had sex!"

Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't jealous Wally wasn't… Oh, he was so jealous

This time silence was certainly awkward. Very awkward. Dick was burning from embarrassment. Wally was trying to convince himself he wasn't jealous. Tim was thinking about anything other than his brother's love life.

And only Jason was amused. The day was working out great for him. He won 10 dollars. Yes, it wasn't much, but the satisfaction of winning the bet with Marinette was worse so much more. It would be even better if Dick blurted out that he has a crush on Wally with him nearby. But it seemed that his dearest older brother would rather embarrass himself than confess.

"Is it everything? Because I think you have left out something," but Dick just glared at him. Well, time for big guns. "Were you and Pixie talking about something? Something very important? Something that will have a big influence on your relationship?" he then feigned a scandalised gasp. "Did you confess that you have cheated on her?! Did you cheat on Marinette?!"

Dick's glare was the funniest thing in the world, and Jason's snickers just made him angrier. "Nothing like! I just told her that I have a crush on Wally!" His satisfied expression slowly morphed into one of shock. "I meant to say that I had told her about my crush on Wally! No, not that! About patrol! Yes, patrol!"

"Your crush on me?" Wally asked, his voice small and soft. He clearly was shocked by Dick's confession. He looked even more surprised than Dick was. "Are you serious?"

Tim felt like he was in a tv drama. Secret crushes? Check? Oblivious main characters? Check? Mean brother Jason? Check. The drama of the reveal? Check. Friends to lovers? Check? Another love interest? Check. The only difference was Marinette. That woman certainly wasn't the "evil and annoying wife". He briefly wondered how she had reacted, but judging that Dick was still alive she was very nice.

"How unpredictable, how surprising," Jason stage whispered, leaning down to Tim. This time both Wally and Dick glared, which was somehow even more amusing. Even Tim was cackling.

"Get out of here. I… Wally and I have to talk about my stupid slip. Go!" Dick shouted, basically throwing them out of the kitchen. Tim and Jason exchanged a knowing look and burst out laughing. Knowing that it pissed Dick off made them laugh even harder.

Dick didn't know what to say or how to react. He wanted to wait for Marinette to confess to Wally. She would know what to say and how to explain his feelings better than he could ever do. Her presence would give him strength and courage. He didn't want to blurt it out. Again. He was an idiot and Wally would never like him back.

"So, you like me?" Wally asked with a nervous chuckle. His crush liked him. His crush liked him. His crush liked him. Wally could not believe it was real and he wasn't dreaming.

"I..yes. Yes, I do," Dick stated, more confident than before. "You are smart, amazing, and incredible. You have a beautiful smile that lights up every room. Your plans are brilliant, but you don't always see it. You are very important to me so yes, I like you."

Wally felt like his head was spinning from Dick's compliments and the sincerety in his eyes. Blush rised to his cheeks. He was at loss of words. How should he react?! Compliment him back?

"I… I really like you, too," Wally finally answered, his throat dry from nerves. Dick broke in a brilliant, brighter than the sun grin. "How did Marinette react to that?"

"Do you want her exact words or just generally?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Generally."

"Well, she said that polyamory exists and that me loving you doesn't mean I love her any less," Dick answered with the same gentle smile he always had when talking about Marinette. But this time Wally didn't feel envious or jealous. Dick suddenly looked more nervous than before. "Would you date me? You don't have to date Marinette, but I don't want to break up with her, you know?"

Wally didn't know. He has heard about polyamory and open relationships before, of course. He didn't know what to do or how to act. Would he and Marinette have to share Dick? Would they have a schedule, so they could spend time with Dick? Would they have to be together all the time? But Wally did know that honesty was important in every type of relationship so he took a deep breath and explained everything to Dick.

"Well, neither I nor Marinette have the experience of dating two people at once, so we will have to figure it out. Trials and errors, you know?" Dick offered with a small 0shrug. He looked away, suddenly more nervous than before. His main concern was confessing to Wally, he didn't think how the whole thing would work. "We can try anyway."

"We can try, yeah," Wally repeated with a small smile.

"Now kiss!" Jason groaned from annoyance and lack of patience. Dick felt blush from embarrassment (the amount of times he blushed today was concerning). Jason was not affected by his glare at all. "Well, I'm waiting. Marinette wanted to see your first kiss and I promised her to take a picture," he said gesturing to his phone.

"We won't kiss on camera. We can wait for Marinette," he growled before realising that he hadn't asked Wally how he would feel. Dick could hope the sudden realisation wasn't obvious, but judging by Jason's and Tim's expressions they both have noticed. Nothing to lose then. "Would you mind kissing me with Marinette there? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Wally was silent for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "We can try, I guess," he said before realising one very crucial detail Dick had missed. "When did you two return? Because I remember Dick throwing you out of here."

"When Dick confessed to you? I'm not sure," Tim said with the same tone one would discuss weather, not their brother's love life. Jason nodded in agreement. "Now, we can leave you two alone. Right, Jason?"

"Eh, we all have to make sacrifices for the happiness of our elder brothers," Jason said with a dramatic gasp, but nothing new, nothing new. "Let's go, Timmy, let's go. We are not welcome here." Wally could swear he had heard Tim mutter "it's not like I am the one who suggested to leave" under his breath.

"So, are we waiting for Marinette?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. God, having Dick's undivided attention and being completely alone with him was a nerve-wracking experience. Wally locked his eyes on Dick's lips. They looked even better than usual. Was it because he could kiss him now? Must be. "No, I wanted to kiss you for too long to wait even a second more," Dick murmured before leaning towards Wally.

Kissing Dick blew up his mind. It wasn't something Wally hoped would ever happen but desperately wanted to. Dick's lips were a little bit chapped, just enough to notice but not enough to make their kiss uncomfortable. Wally didn't want to lean away even for a second to take a breath. If it was his last kiss with Dick (and it certainly wasn't), he would enjoy for as long as he could.

"It was just like I imagined it," Wally blurted out when they stopped kissing. He felt breathless and higher than ever.

"So you imagined kissing me?" Dick asked with a smug smile. "Well, I am me and I'm awesome."

"Where was the confidence when you were panicking about confessing to Wally?" Dick and Wally immediately wiped their head towards the voice. There was standing Marinette with a teasing smile and a Polaroid in her hands. "Don't worry! I wasn't standing here creepily and watching you two make out! I just took a photo and left immediately. Didn't want to intrude," she explained upon noticing Dick's and Wally's reaction.

"Why did you take a photo?" asked Dick.

"For my scrapbook, my heart. I have a photo of our first kiss, our first date, from the day we moved in, and when we finally organized everything. And I wanted to have photos of every important milestone in your relationship, too," Marinette explained, while moving gracefully around the kitchen. Her chaotic moves seemed to have a complicated system Dick couldn't understand.

Wally… didn't know what to say. Sure, he knew that Marinette wasn't against their relationship, but he didn't expect her to be so supportive and kind. He felt warmth bloom in his chest. He wasn't in love with Marinette, but right at that moment, in hers and Dick's cluttered kitchen, he felt like falling for her was the easiest thing ever.

But they still had some questions for Marinette to answer.

"Marinette, you love me, right?" Dick waited for Marinette to nod in agreement before continuing talking. "I may or may not have drunk one of your potions! But it was an accident!"

Marinette sighed tiredly. Then she sighed again. And again. And again. Wally stopped counting after five consecutive sighs. She pinched the bridge of her nose before talking again. "It's okay. I shouldn't leave my potions in the kitchen if I don't want anyone to accidentally drink them. I'm not mad, not disappointed. Accidents happen and it's not your fault. I just need you to tell me from what vial you took it and how it affected you, okay?"

It didn't take long for Marinette fo realise what potion Dick had taken. And when she did, she burst out laughing. Unfortunately, Dick and Wally didn't share her knowledge of magic, so they couldn't appreciate the irony of the situation without her help.

"I've been trying to make a way to free kwami. Tbe potion you've drunk? It's a result of my experiments. It didn't free kwami but it freed you," Marinette explained before laughing again. And this time Dick and Wally did join her.

[rosenallies]

if you’re still accepting prompts, may i please request jackie and jan meeting for the first time in groupie au. i just can’t not request it after seeing the headcanons! tyia! ❤️

I got a few requests for elaborations on the headcanons, so here’s the beginning of their story💗 thank you for requesting !!

—-

Jan took a deep breath, escaping the crowded club out the back door for some fresh air. She leaned against the brick wall, the cool surface making goosebumps prick on her arms.

“Club too crowded for you too?” Came a voice to her left.

“Oh I’m sorry-,” she turned to look at the source of the voice, her mouth going dry when her eyes landed on one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. She had an enticing smirk on her face and a head full of dark wavy hair. But, it was her eyes that drew her in, her hazel eyes boring into Jan’s soul. “I didn’t realize anyone else was out here,” she stammered.

The woman laughed, like music to Jan’s ears. “I’m open to sharing the space, especially with someone as pretty as you. I’m Jackie.” She winked and Jan damn near had a heart attack.

“I’m Jan,” she replied.

“Short for Janice? Janet?”

Jan laughed. “Nope, just Jan.”

Jackie nodded, an intriguied look on her face. “Well, okay, just Jan. What brings you out here? I couldn’t stand whatever song they were playing in there, apparently one of the band members was at the club and people were going nuts.” Jackie rolled her eyes and Jan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I was getting pretty tired of hearing my own voice blasting from the speakers.”

The brunette’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so-“

Jan waved her off. “It’s okay, it’s nice actually. It’s not often a pretty girl talks to me without an alterior motive.”

“Well, my only motive is to get to know you,” she said, reaching out and tucking a strand of lavender hair behind Jan’s ear.

She drew in a breath, the slight brush of Jackie’s fingertips sending jolts of electricity down her spine. “I know a 24 hour coffee shop down the street, care to join me?”

“Won’t your fans be missing you?”

Jan shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll understand,” she held her hand out, Jackie taking it and intertwining their fingers.

They talked and laughed the whole way there, feeling like they’d known each other their whole lives. At the coffee shop they both ordered lattes, but they went untouched as they talked and talked. Jan recounted stories of her time on the road, and the sisterhood she had found in her bandmates. And Jackie spoke passionately about her job as an adolescent therapist, Jan loving the way her eyes lit up. As they spoke, they scooted closer and closer to one another.

By the time it was 2am, Jackie had her hand on Jan’s thigh and Jan was nearly in her lap. Coming down from a laughter high after Jan had told a story about one of her many pranks she played on her band mates, Jackie looked deep into her eyes.

“I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Jan bit her lip and blushed. “Me too.”

Jackie laid a tentative hand on Jan’s jawline, searching her face for permission. Her eyes fluttered from Jan’s soft looking lips then back to her eyes, the purple haired girl nodding. Jackie closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to Jan’s. They moved softly and slowly, the kiss not fueled by lustfullness or desperation but by tenderness. Jackie touched her like she was something delicate and precious, a full 180 to how previous lovers handled her.

When they pulled apart, Jackie kept her hand on Jan’s jawline, thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek. “When can I see you again?”

Jan giggled blissfully. “Tomorrow night? I’m home for the next couple weeks if that doesn’t work.”

Jackie was glad to hear Jan call New York City home, the one thing they hadn’t mentioned was where home was for either of them. “Tomorrow night is perfect. Let me give you my number.”

Taking out her phone, the screen stayed black, apparently having died sometime in the night. “Shit, my phone’s dead,” she pouted.

Jackie pulled a pen out from her clutch and grabbed Jan’s arm, scribbling digits onto her skin in loopy writing. “Call me,” Jackie said, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to Jan’s cheek before disappearing out the front door of the coffee shop.

On the cab ride home, Jan couldn’t get Jackie out of her head, full lips, warm hazel eyes and the softest skin she’s ever touched. She ran her fingers over the digits written onto her arm, careful not to smudge them while she replayed the kiss in her head over and over again.

[salvejoon]

Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 01

⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Death of minor characters, mentions of a car accident, losing a loved one, a child being orphaned, cursing, Jimin being an ass, reader being a bitch.

⇒ A/N: Hey lovelies! I’m back-ish! I’ve been working on this project for months now and I’ve finally found my muse again and so I got to writing more and more chapters for this. Please enjoy the first chapter of hopefully my first series (but not my last). xoxo

“Imo!” Your head shot up at the happy squeal and you bent down to one knee, opening your arms, almost toppling over at the force your niece ran into you.

“Oof!” Your arms closed around her and she buried her nose in your hair as her arms went around your neck, “Hello my pretty little flower.” You drew back and nuzzled her nose with yours to which she frowned. 

“I’ve grown 1 inch so I’m not little anymore.” 

“You’ll always be my pretty little flower, Hyejin. No matter how tall you get.” You picked her up as you stood, groaning briefly as you adjusted her on your hip, “But you are getting a little bit heavy.”

Hyejin giggled, “Appa also says I’m getting heavy. Says his back hurts.” 

“That’s because your Appa is getting old.” 

A hum came from the doorway and you saw Han, your brother-in-law, standing there, looking dapper in a black and white tux, his natural black hair swept back from his face, “You’re the one to talk, Y/N. You’re closer to 30 than I am.” 

You rolled your eyes, “No need to remind me, Han.” You said just as your younger sister, Charlotte gently pushed Han out of the doorframe, looking a little bit frantic, “Missing something?” You asked her as she walked over to the vanity, opening several drawers.

“My watch.”

“The one laying right in front of you?” 

Charlotte sighed heavily as her eyes landed upon her watch, “Thanks.” 

“What would you do without me?” You smirked as she walked over to you and took Hyejin from your arms and her daughter protested with a small whine.

“Can’t I go with you, Eomma?” She asked and glanced longingly at you and her father, “I also want to go to the ball and look pretty.” 

Charlotte chuckled and kissed her forehead, “Another time, baby. This is for grown-ups only.” 

“Why is it always only for adults? I want to go too!” She protested loudly, crossing her arms and pouted.

You ruffled her hair, “How about you and I play dress-up tomorrow, hm? How does that sound? I’ve bought new shoes you can try.” You winked at her and Hyejin’s pout slowly vanished. 

“Can I put make-up on you, Imo?” 

“Sure.” 

Charlotte put her down and bent down just as the doorbell rang, gently wiping her daughter’s hair back from her face, “You be good to Mrs. Shin, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yes, Eomma.” 

You absentmindedly stared out the window as the limousine drove through one of the high-end districts of Seoul. Closed off ground containing High-Rise buildings towered the streets and in between, they were grand mansions. 

You felt out of place here, in this part of town.

You preferred Han and Charlotte’s apartment in the more affordable part of Seoul. 

“Y/N.”

You hummed at the sound of your sister’s voice.

“Promise me you’ll be nice.” 

You shifted your gaze to her and raised a brow, “When am I not nice?” You asked and shook your head when Charlotte sent you a knowing look, “Oh please. Just because he’s going to be there doesn’t mean I won’t be nice.”

Han snorted, “The last time you saw each other, it ended up in the tabloids.” 

You glared at him and tch’ed, “Your brother called me - me - a prude, and I simply wanted him to teach him some manners.”

“You don’t teach someone manners by threatening them, Y/N.” Came the rational voice of Charlotte. 

This time you snorted and rolled your eyes, “Wow, you two really take his side.” 

“We are not but you two should bury that hatchet, whatever it is. He is actually nice once you get to know him.” 

“He’s a conceited asshole that needs to be beaten down a peg or ten. There is nothing nice about him.”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was once a time where you would have taken in the beautiful surroundings of the ballroom with all it’s marble and gold, tall doors, and crystal chandeliers and would have felt like a princess. 

But this wasn’t your first rodeo at a gathering such as this nor would it be your last. 

You hated them now. Well, not hated but found them so superficial because all it was was rich people prancing around with their noses in the air while they had a pissing contest of who had the most money, the fastest car, the grandest of mansions, or the youngest wife.

“Smile.” Charlotte noted as she sat down next to you, followed by Han who had finally managed to break free of one of the old ladies' claws, no doubt talking about finances.

You plastered on a fake smile but said smile quickly vanished when you spotted a familiar face approaching the table. 

You tried to hide your scowl as the man came up to the table, dressed in a burgundy-colored suit that cost more than what you earned in a year, his ears adorned with silver dangling earrings with matching diamond rings on his fingers. The last time you had seen him, he’d donned blonde hair but now it was gray and it was swept back neatly, showing off his face. 

And he had a new chick on his arm.

No surprise there.

Park Jimin was one of the biggest fuckboys you knew, if not the biggest. 

He dragged his eyes from his date to you and a knowing smirk spread on his lips when he saw your scowl. No doubt he was already planning various ways to piss you off. 

“Jimin. Nice of you to show up…” Charlotte glanced at her wristwatch, “20 minutes later than we agreed upon but it’s better than an hour like last time.” 

Jimin removed his eyes from you and looked at your sister with an innocent smile, “I apologize, Charlotte. Things dragged out at the board meeting.” The woman on his arm tugged at it, “And may I introduce Jisoo. My date.” 

Han bowed his head and your sister smiled sweetly at her and you… Well, you ignored them. 

That was until Charlotte jabbed you in the ribs, “Ow! Hi, whatever.” You grumbled, glaring at her before meeting Jisoo’s smiling face and forced your lips upwards. 

“As formal as ever, Y/N.” Jimin drawled before sitting down across from you, his smirk back on his lips, “Where is your date?” 

“I came alone.” You answered stiffly. 

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, “As usual.” 

Arrogant asshole. 

“At least I’m not fucking my way through the female population of Seoul.” 

Jisoo opened her mouth to object but a tap on the mic shut all of you up and you just aimed a glare at him. He met you with one of his own. The tension rose at the table and you heard your brother-in-law sigh softly. 

“It’s going to be a long evening.” You heard him murmur. 

The hours dragged on and so far you’d listened to four long speeches, three performances by some musicians you had never heard of, and had Charlotte remind you of your promise ten times.

You found yourself sitting alone at the table, date-less while your sister was out dancing with Han and Jimin had vanished. 

Probably aiming the money-shot between his date’s breasts.

The image of that left a bad taste in your mouth, so you focused on the dancing people on the floor.

You could easily find a willing dance partner. There were loads of young bachelors at such an event like this but they were so boring to you. You didn’t care about numbers, board meetings, or future merges. Charlotte had given up trying to set you up long ago since you scared most of them away. 

You deemed your independence a part of your charm. Charlotte didn’t agree. 

The ironic part was that the only man here, that could keep up with you, was an arrogant dickwad with a stick so far up his ass, he could pick his teeth with it. 

And he was probably fucking his date at the toilet. There you go again with those thoughts. 

“Ugh.” You shuddered and willed the images away as you picked up your wine glass and took a sip. The best thing about these events was the free booze. 

Too bad you weren’t allowed to get hammered because the last time you got shitfaced, you had dragged Jimin by his collar, trying to get him outside so you could ‘rearrange that stick’. The tabloids had a field day with that instance. It hadn’t been the first time you had threatened to kick his ass and you doubted it would be the last. 

Jimin just knew how to push the right buttons. 

“No one has asked you for a dance yet?” 

Your left eye twitched in annoyance, “No. Not yet. Are you offering?” You asked as you looked at Jimin with a raised brow. 

“No. I prefer my dance partners to be more… graceful. I don’t like getting stepped on.” 

“But I can be graceful, Jimin.” 

“Oh? When?” He asked as he sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. 

“When I step on your throat, choking the life out of you.” 

“Kinky, Y/N. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

You scoffed and leaned back in your chair, “Where’s your date? Recovering from having your filthy hands on her body?”

“And if she is?” 

“Then tell her I know a therapist.” 

Jimin threw you a glare, one you returned with an unimpressed, bored look, “She’s in the restroom.” 

“Trying to wash away her sins, no doubt.”

“Are you jealous, Y/N? You seem oddly fixated on my sexual interactions.” 

You picked up your wine glass and shrugged, “For me to be jealous, Jimin, it would require I had some sort of feelings for you, which I do not other than absolute disgust.” You downed the rest of the wine that was in the glass, deciding you were done entertaining him, “And I’d undoubtedly get more satisfaction by watching old men dance with their young wives than having sex with you.” With that you rose from the table. You flicked a strand of hair over your shoulder as you put your bag on the table, “Now be a good boy and look after my belongings.” 

“Where are you going?” He asked stiffly. 

“To dance, of course. Might step on a toe or two but what the hell.” 

Your escape from the table hadn’t gone as smoothly as you had hoped because Charlotte and Han were nowhere to be found, the men that had approached you were either 60 and above and the bartender hadn’t seemed particularly keen on entertaining you with small talk. So you opted to venture outside instead. 

The air was chilly and you shivered a little, rubbing your arms to regain some heat as you looked up. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled while the moon showered the ground in it’s white glow. It was a pretty evening, really. You had the sudden urge to just lay down on the grass and stargaze. 

You felt something heavy being draped over your shoulders and you turned around to see a pair of dimples and a bright smile. 

You knew those dimples.

And that smile.

Those kind, warm, honeyed eyes. 

Your heart sped up. 

Before you could open your mouth to greet him, Namjoon booped your nose, “Thought I saw you dash outside. Are you avoiding me?” 

You shoved his shoulder, albeit gently with a smile on your lips, “Duh. Of course, I am avoiding you.” 

He frowned, “The sex can’t have been that bad.” He pouted.

You rolled your eyes, “It was terrible. Absolutely terrible.” 

“You really know how to hurt a man's pride, Y/N.” He chuckled and enveloped you in a tight hug, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Joonie. I haven’t seen you in, what, 3 months?” You drew back, “I didn’t know you were attending the fundraiser.”

Namjoon kept his arms around your waist as he sheepishly smiled down at you, “I wasn’t planning on attending since I am so busy lately but when Han told me you’d be here, I had to come.” 

“Aw, my little Joonie bug.” 

He let go of you and you stepped back, “So how is the partnership coming along?” You asked, standing next to him, “Charlotte told me you’ve been super duper uber busy.” 

He sighed, “I have been so fucking busy and work has just been taking up all of my time and I am so tired of it.”

“Oh, Joonie.”

“But I can now call myself partner and a board member of Kim & Co Lawyers.” 

You squealed, your arms finding purchase around his neck as you jumped up and down of excitement, “OH MY GOD! CONGRATULATIONS!” 

Big hand engulfed your face and squished, “Thank you but calm down, sprout. No reason to entertain the whole neighborhood.”

“Buf u gos te parfership.”

“Yes.”

“lso yo ar ruinf te makuf.”

“I am fully aware of that, sprout.” 

“Le gof.”

He chuckled and let go of your face, placing his hands on your shoulders instead, “Thank you. But how are you? Charlotte told me you’d be expanding the brand soon.”

You grinned and nodded, “Yes! I am so excited but at the same time also a little sad. That shop has been my bread and butter for 4 years now but it was about time I listened to my sister and expanded… With the help of some investors, of course.” 

“Well, I am looking forward to seeing you take over the world, Y/N.” 

You snorted and grabbed his hand, “Pfft, I think I’ll just deal with getting my designs on the interwebz first and see how that goes. Now let’s go get some wine and talk shit about other people.” 

“There you are!” You and Namjoon halted your conversation as Charlotte appeared between you, “We’ve been looking for you.”

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sis.”

She glared but there was a teasing glint in her eyes, “Joonie has a habit of stealing your time.” 

“I’m like the most important man in her life, what did you expect?” Namjoon rolled his eyes as Charlotte bumped his shoulder, “Not in the way you want, woman.” 

Your sister huffed and shook her head, “What do I have to pay you to marry Y/N? Seriously, you’re like the only guy that can keep up with her shit and not want to run away.”

“Who says I don’t want to run away?” 

You slapped his arm that was draped over the bar counter, “Fuck you. You love me.” 

“I do but not enough to get my dick wet.” 

“That monster you call a dick wouldn’t fit anyway.” 

“Thank you, I guess, for calling it a monster, Y/N, but I would have made it fit. Preparation is key.” 

“That’s what I keep saying. Foreplay is an important part of-”

“Alright, I clearly interrupted something here so I would just like to give you the heads up and Han and I are going home.” Charlotte interrupted you and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, “He’s drunk and I was getting tired anyway.” 

“Sure. I’ll see you back home.” You said, wiping at your cheek before turning it towards Namjoon, “Do I have a stain?”

He shook his head before accepting a peck on his cheek from Charlotte, “Nope. Looking smooth as always.” 

“You make sure she gets home safely, Joonie.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“And not too late, okay?”

“Bye Charlotte! Love you!” You called as she wandered off, dragging a swaying Han with her towards the entrance.

Jimin sat at the table, Jisoo at his side. He had tuned most of her blabbering out, finding the topic ‘what shoes to wear to her friend’s wedding’ quite boring. Instead, his eyes were trained on the dance floor where not many people were dancing. 

More specifically you and Namjoon that was talking more than dancing and he saw you smile, laughing at how your dance partner seemed to trip over his own feet. 

He scoffed. 

“Are you listening to what I’m saying, baby?”

“Of course, Jisoo. The red pair of shoes sounds good.” 

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, eyes narrowing at the number, he swiped his thumb across the screen.

“Yes?” He said. 

“Jimin, hey, it’s Seokjin.” 

“I could see on the caller-id.”

There was a brief pause and Jimin held up a hand to silence Jisoo when she yanked at his arm. Then there was a beeping sound and the sound of doors being banged open, “Jin, what’s going on?”

“Sorry about that… I don’t know how to say this but you need to come to the hospital.”

“Why?” 

“It’s your brother. Jimin, you need to come and quick.” 

His throat felt as dry as sandpaper as he stood up and hung up, eyes darting to your dancing and laughing form on the dancefloor. 

“Jimin, baby, where are you going?” Jisoo asked him as he took a step, her hands clinging onto his wrist. 

“S-Sorry, I have somewhere I need to be.” He answered, his voice shaky, “I’ll arrange for someone to take you home.” 

“Wait!” She called out as he ran towards you.

You were laughing so hard at how Namjoon had just tripped over his own two feet again when Jimin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist, “What the fuck?” 

“Fun time is over.” Jimin said and tugged you with him as he headed towards the exit.

You yanked your wrist free, Namjoon appearing at your side, “Um no, it isn’t. What’s with you?” You asked him. 

Jimin looked at you and Namjoon, “Y/N.” You raised a brow at the tone of his voice… He sounded scared, “We have to go now.” 

“Did something happen?” You immediately grew worried because Jimin never sounded scared. 

“Seokjin just called me and… Something happened with Han and Charlotte.” 

You had never felt such fear. 

The ride to the hospital was tense and quiet. Jimin drove like a maniac through the streets of Seoul while Namjoon had tagged along as support. The two men sat in the front of the car, exchanging no words whatsoever, leaving you to your thoughts running rampant. 

Then you arrived at the hospital and everything happened so quickly.

A drunk driver collided with their limousine.

Their driver was killed on impact. 

Charlotte and Han were in critical condition.

You had no idea how much time had passed from when you had arrived to when you were sitting on the chair outside the ward, Jimin prancing back and forth like a caged animal.

Then the doctor appeared from the ward and Namjoon was quick to leave your side, going to talk to him.

You stood up, watching as they talked and you felt Jimin’s presence next to you.

Time seemed to slow down when your eyes locked with Namjoon’s, the sadness in his eyes conveying the message you had yet to receive but you knew. 

They were gone. 

You could feel someone wrap their arms around you as you tumbled to the floor, your own piercing wail deaf to your ears as you felt your chest implode on itself with heartbreak. 

Jimin struggled to keep you upright as you collapsed, your cries so very loud in his ears but it didn’t matter. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to hear why you had broken down. It was clear as day by the way Namjoon looked. 

His brother was gone. Your sister was gone. Both of them were gone. 

You cried out her name and Jimin tightened his hold on you when you tried to crawl away from him. 

He might not like you and you may not like him but he knew that you should not go through this pain alone. So when you clutched his shirt so tightly in your balled fists, your cries finally lowering to whimpering and you buried your head in his chest, Jimin held you tight.

The feeling of time was lost on you when you entered Han and Charlotte’s apartment. Your mind was empty and you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating. 

Mrs. Shin appeared as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on a small table. She looked puzzled upon seeing you, and only you, return. 

“Where is…” She trailed off as you grabbed her hand. 

“They’re gone.” Was all you said and her shoulders sagged as she moved her free hand to cover her mouth, “Is she sleeping?”

“She is.” 

You nodded and walked past her, down the hall, towards Hyejin’s room. The door was slightly ajar and you slowly opened it, finding her room dark except for a small lamp in the corner. 

She hated the dark.

Like Charlotte. 

You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the thought of your sister but willed them away. You had to be strong now for Hyejin. 

Nothing else mattered.

Hyejin woke up when her mattress shifted and she turned her head, rubbing one eye, “Eomma?” 

“No, honey. It’s me.” 

She sat up, looking puzzled, “Where’s Eomma? She always comes to kiss me goodnight.” 

You opened your arms and closed them around her tiny frame, “I know.” You placed your head upon hers and took a deep breath, “Listen, sweetie…”

[depths-of-hope-and-despair]

Retrospect

Not altering her typical nightly routine, Aditi found herself clutching onto one of her empty glass bottles by the end of the evening. Thankfully, she made it back to her room before finally closing her eyes, in hopes of a good night’s rest. Her last thought was that she would end up in the same office once again.

And wouldn’t she know it, she actually returned into the very same office, seated on the very same chair, with the very same man expecting her visit this time, smiling widely as he arched his back like a cat, basically buzzing as he greeted her: “Ah, if it isn’t Aditi. Back already, you just couldn’t get enough of me the last time.” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair and opening a notebook, scribbling in it as he continued. “Not that I can blame you, of course. I also have been looking forward to our....reunion.”

He slid the notebook aside, instead focusing on her again and asking: “How was your day? Did you follow my advice or were you not ready yet? Have you read any good books lately?” Typical therapist talk, though there was something about it. He didn’t break eye contact, just like last time, but this time he seemed more prepared.

Aditi blinked rapidly to take in the vision before her, not believing her eyes at first. Why was she back here? Her dreams rarely repeat. What is this? Her confusion turned to annoyance quickly, growling at the man in front of her, already unhappy with his presence. “Is this some kind of joke?” She spat, looking around the room for the sign of any change in scenery. “I try to drown my sorrows with alcohol to sleep peacefully for once, and I’m sent back here. Wonderful...” She grumbles.

Her gaze narrowed again at his questions. “It has been one night. I am not a speed-reader, I prefer to take my time and enjoy books. As for your advice, yes. I did open up to one of my roommates. Which wasn’t very successful, due to her having no emotional intelligence whatsoever.” She couldn’t help but pout that time, actually angry her attempt to open up took a backseat. “What on earth could you possibly have for me now? What else do you want to know?” She asked, guarded and standoffish.

“Magnificent! I see we are already making great progress, good job!” He remained calm, not caring about Aditi’s anger in the slightest, merely jotting something down in the notebook as he continued: “It is an important first step to take the courage and open up to someone. It is great for coping and you have more support that can help you direct your focus away from the past.”

The fact he practically ignored her seething anger only fueled it to new heights. “Your “step forward,” got me nowhere, aside from being judged.” She hissed, her hands gripping the table hard enough to leave small indents with her claws.

“Quite the opposite, Aditi.” He reassured her, observing her denting the table, the wood basically regenerating itself after a few seconds, elaborating: “How would you feel, if someone suddenly revealed something deeply upsetting to you? Maybe your friend was caught off guard. I’m sure they will react differently tomorrow, when they have time to digest the information. You said they lacked emotional intelligence. So it takes longer to compute.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Her bright eyes shined through the dark, staring straight through him with an unreasonable amount of annoyance.

He chuckled, looking up at her, intense eyes almost glowing in the blue light. “I can get you something to drink if you want, but therapy usually takes more than one session. Granted, most people only need one session from me.” His laughter was darker this time, more sinister, but before Aditi could question him, he procured two pieces of paper and two pens.

“For our session today, I thought we would make the pictures ourselves. Who needs Rorschach anyway.” He spoke lightheartedly, sliding a paper and pen across so Aditi could take it, explaining: “It is easy, really. We all have something that causes us grief. Just let your thoughts wander and draw what’s currently haunting you on the paper. I will do it too, since you seem to like it when I participate.”

Aditi scowled down at the blank thin canvas offered to her. What causes her grief? What kind of therapist needs to know that? Did he believe he could make her grief subside by talking about it? Ridiculous. However, she knew the dream wouldn’t end unless she played along sadly. Disgruntled, Aditi picked up the pencil and paper and began to draw. She drew three sketches that immediately came to mind when associating with grief.

The three sketches she slide over to him, were; a sketch of a boy with spiky hair and wearing a button up shirt and tie with a smile, a sketch of her own clawed hand, and lastly, a sketch of a woman with short hair, cat pins in her hair, and broken arm. She too was smiling. She tapped her foot impatiently while awaiting his own paper and the questions to come.

He merely smiled, unfazed by her impatience, turning to his own paper and beginning to scribble. His artistic talent came fully to shine, taking a few minutes longer than her as he drew like a madman. He handed Aditi his paper, revealing a small picture. It showed a man with black hair that was parted in the middle, he looked similar to Albert, trying to get away from a group of horrific looking creatures and a man, only a big, toothy smile visible.

As sneaky as ever, Aditi grabbed his paper quickly, eyes glancing over it and firing her question off before him. “Who is this? Why does he look similar to you?” She questioned.

“He is my arch nemesis. We met during college. He....doesn’t have it easy at the moment. Someone wants him dead and almost succeeded, he disappeared for a few months. I am concerned he will meet an untimely demise.....” He sounded like he wanted to add something to that, but he already said enough. He was just a dream after all.

“And that brings you grief... why exactly?” Aditi asked, one of her claws carefully tracing the sketch under her palm. “You say he is your worst enemy, yet you feel grief at the thought of his demise? Do you worry you’ll be bored once he’s gone and nobody will challenge you? Or is it.. something else?” She inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s....complicated...” He responded, sighing into his hands as he contemplated whether he should tell her or not. He decided with a more simplified version: “He...challenges me in a way I have never seen with anyone else before. In university we raced to be the best in our class and he pushed me to great heights. Without him, I feel....bored. Nothing presents a challenge anymore. What fun is it to be at the top without someone you can watch squirm at their defeat?” He chuckled at the thought, reveling in the thought that he won in college against Vincent, even if their rivalry wasn’t the reason for his concern. It was… something else entirely. “Enough about me, dear. It’s your turn.” He held his hand out expectedly.

Begrudgingly, Aditi handed over the paper, watching him study the little scribbles closely before he wondered: “Who are they? A friend? Or a relative?” He seemed oddly off-put when he said relative, not even questioning if Aditi hurt them. He already knew she did.

Her expression flattened. Not deflating with depression, more so turning into a forced neutral gaze. “The male is one of my partners. The female is... my sister. A relative, yes.” She explained.

He studied the drawings a little closer, squinting and nodding to himself. “I see. Something bad must have happened if it causes you so much grief. Did you get in an argument with your relative and your partner got hurt in the process?” He traced the lines with his maybe gloved hand before putting the paper back down, looking back up at Aditi.

The tall girl sighed at him requesting an elaboration from her. “My partner, he... I was fated to kill him and be the successor to his legacy. Of despair, that is. The later years of my life, when he rebelled and chose hope, I was taught to hate him for betraying us. And now, look where we are. How can I be certain he loves me? Or that he is only toying with me to keep himself safe? How could you love someone who was destined to be your enemy? I don’t understand how he can choose. I understand Lucy. She found me, and I am grateful for her existence to no end. She means a great deal to me, and I would do anything to protect her. I feel the same about him. Yet... there is always the doubt in my mind. That he can’t love me. That he would be better off alone.”

“Just because he chose hope over despair doesn’t mean that he cannot love you. One doesn’t exclude the other.” His gaze softened a bit as he continued: “Your concerns are valid and you are not stupid for having these doubts, but if you ask me, you should seek conversation with him. At the end of the day, I’m just a therapist, and not a mind reader. All I can do is reassure you and encourage communication.” He grabbed his pen and drew a heart around the three of them, showing it to her: “See? It’s not as difficult as you think it is. Sometimes life seems like rocket science, but really, it’s just a quick skip over the river. You just need to take the offered hand.”

At this advice, she sunk into her chair and huffed. “.. It feels impossible to communicate how I feel to him without hurting his feelings. I fear, should I say anything wrong, he’ll blame himself. I pick my words carefully, but, there is no use tiptoeing through a minefield, is there? At times, it... feels better to be silent. To not make the problem worse. It’s... difficult to understand why anyone would choose me. Truly, their standards for beauty must be low.” She tucked a hair behind her ear and frowned at the ground.

He nodded at her doubts about the relationship, admitting to her: “I don’t think that silencing the problem away is going to help. You may not hurt him at the moment, but you are hurting yourself that way. If you leave these doubts unaddressed, they might be the reason the relationship will fall apart. Even if it hurts for a moment, I’m sure he will understand. It is a roadblock you need to work past. You are an intelligent and beautiful young woman, I’m sure both of them are willing to work with you for you.” He tapped his pen against the sketch of the three of them, surrounded by the heart again, inquiring: “Don’t let your doubts, or your pride, get the best of you. You might regret it in the end.”

“... I suppose. I don’t want it to fester forever, but I also don’t want to blurt out my own worries during an awful time. Timing does matter, I believe.” She sighed with a frowning, knowing he was right but unable to fully vocalize it outside of a slight nod. “.. I will talk to him. In the future. I will.” She promised to herself and him all the same.

“Now. About your sister.” He folded his hands together, resting his chin atop them as he leaned forward to listen.

She paused to inhale before speaking. “My sister has never liked me. We had opposing views from a young age. Our...” She swallowed trying to hide the contempt she held or having to use this word. “... mother. Our mother pitied us against one another frequently, to build our competitive spirits. She wanted a life she couldn’t have. I only wanted her to stay safe.” Simplifying their story into a normal family felt so strange. She was stubborn about not telling this man everything just yet. Dancing around the details would be fine for now. “She was reckless. I saved her from danger, took the blame for her idiotic decisions, and showed her everything I knew. Yet it.. was never enough. She never wanted anything to do with me. Mother treated her differently as well. Gave her... things I wasn’t allowed to enjoy myself. I grew jealous because of that. Between her taking my efforts for granted and my own jealousy, I came to resent her, sadly.” Her eyes looked to the side, clearly unhappy with this fact. She didn’t want to hate her own sister. She was the closest she had to someone who understood her own strife. Why did they have to be enemies? Was it her own fault? Was it Trifle’s? Both of theirs? Or was it all to blame on Celia? Would blaming anyone even fix the problem at all...?

He listened patiently when she revealed her concerns about her family. For a moment, just a moment, he felt a connection. It made him shiver, but he quickly disguised it as an arm movement. He had this weird feeling yesterday too. He should look into this more. But for now he needed to offer some advice. “So your sister got preferred to you by your abusive parental figure?” He tried to sum it up, humming and tapping the pen against his palm. “Maybe....try to see things from her perspective? I understand you wanted to protect her, but maybe she didn’t see it like that at all? Think about her character in comparison to yours and what your attempts at protecting her might have looked like from her perspective. And, if you find something....maybe try to contact her and apologize? I know, I know, it doesn’t fix anything that happened, those memories will always remain....but it is not only to clear your conscience, but also to show her that you changed. That you realize your past flaws. Try to explain yourself, how you feel jealousy over everything she had that you were denied. Try to explain your perspective too. Maybe she will understand it. Maybe she won’t. But at the very least you tried and got it off your chest.”

“I never.... said... she was abusive..? My mother.. I mean.” Aditi spoke of her confusion before being able to filter the words coming out. Realizing she had let out her doubts, only made her surrender more information. Was there any use in hiding it? He’s inside my head. He likely already knows. This “therapy session,” is only fun and games for him. “... Captor. She wasn’t my mother. She was my captor. My birth mother died when I was very young. My birth father likely doesn’t know I exist, since he never reared his face in my life. My captor raised me. Celia, is her name. My sister... isn’t blood related. I don’t.. have a family. I never have.” She admitted, frown noticeably turning less forced and more genuinely sad. “Trifle,'' is my sister’s name. She wanted freedom. I wanted her to keep her head down and survive. We had different priorities. I hate..” She took a deep breath, shuddering on the way out. “I hate her. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t want to hate her. But, every time I see her I- hah... she’s everything I’m not. I feel like a child again when I look at her. I feel helpless to my own emotions. It makes me feel... weak. So, I... I don’t look at her anymore.”

“Ah, so she wasn’t your mother after all, and she is not your blood relative. You were....all her prisoners, do I understand that right?” Now he had a better picture of the situation, thinking about it for a moment. “It is a difficult situation you are going through, and it probably always will be, but please trust me when I tell you, that it is okay to feel resentment. When you see her, all you can think about is what she had and what you hadn’t, right? ....I think you should take your time with this. Maybe tell her or write to her that you need some time away from here if you and her see each other often and just...take your time. It is okay to feel resentment, it is okay to carry that resentment for years, but you must also not forget that you are not there anymore. You have a place of your own, and you have acquaintances and you have a relationship” He smiled, tilting his head lightly as he assured her: “You are not alone. And things will get better. We will take it one step at a time, alright?”

The advice centering her family affairs seemed to catch her off guard. All her life, by everyone she confided in about Trifle, she was told her resentment wasn’t valid. She was wrong for hating her sister so adamantly. Trifle didn’t deserve it. She was a victim too. Never mind that Aditi was treated worse on purpose. Poor Trifle would never hurt a fly, and Aditi was cruel to her, so she must be in the wrong, right? She was the villain, like always. Everyone invalidating her only grew her hatred more, towards her sister and herself. It felt strange looking someone in the eyes, who thought she wasn’t entirely at fault. She couldn’t seem to find the words. What was there to say? The fact someone finally understood filled her with relief and tons of sadness on top of it. She barely knew him, and he understood her side more than anyone else did. It was pathetic, but gratifying, all in one. “... We? What do you mean? You intend to keep coming back to my dreams?” She felt herself smile for once. “You’d miss me too much? Heh..”

“Yes, Aditi, I just don’t know how to continue without my favourite hostile patient by my side, we are essentially best friends now!” He chuckled, he had no malice in his voice. He was just joking, thankfully, starting to chuckle to himself as he leaned forward, commenting: “I can tell you have taken a liking to me too, considering all the information you share with me.” He had a little smile on his face, a mixture of smug and happy, enjoying that he finally got through her walls. At least a little.

That description of her family life made him furrow his eyebrows though. Could she be...? No, this wasn’t possible, was it? He didn’t know, it could be her. But there were so many people with the same story. Did her find her? After all those years? “Aditi, would you mind answering me a question? You can always decline of course.” He cleared his throat, getting a little nervous as he asked: “Are you....did you have a name before your current name? You were ‘adopted’, weren’t you?” He just....needed to make sure....

Hearing his question, one of her hands reached up to toy with her midnight hair. “Yes. I’ve had three names in my lifetime. Aditi is my chosen name. Oddity was the one my captor gave me. My birth name was Orabelle.” She explained, tilting her head to the side curiously. “Why do you ask?”

When she said her name, he dropped the pen he had still been holding in one hand, his face morphing and making it look like he just invented a brand new emotion. He muttered something under his breath, hand starting to erratically grab the pen and write something in the notebook, calming himself down in a matter of seconds. “....I’m sorry Aditi. but I cannot tell you yet....I will eventually though, I promise....” And he meant it.

A weird noise echoed through the office, like a cuckoo-clock that was being tortured and Albert sighed, the disappointment heavy on his face. “It seems like this is the end of our session. How unfortunate.” His lips quirked up to a gentle smile, his two fangs poking out from his upper lip again as he ended their conversation with: “I hope we can see each other again very soon.”

Aditi watched his responses to her comments, mouth twitching to a smile when she felt needed. The reaction to her name caught her attention most, of course. When he dropped the pen, her smile dropped with it, back into a curious frown with her eyebrows knit. As he promised to inform her of it later, her mouth opened to protest but was once again cut off by the strange sound. “What do you m-?” She began, but as soon as the words left her, she jolted back to reality, waking up in a cold sweat like before.

[creek4lifeman]

One of those days

Here’s another Creek fic for you guys that I made art for.

Title: One Of Those Days Rating: T Pairing: Tweek X Craig Characters: Craig Tucker, Tweek Tweak, Mrs. Tweak Tags: Canon Complaint, AKA they’re in 4th grade, Craig POV, Mild Language, Mentions of Anxiety and Mental health issues, Coloring books, Fake Tattoos, Fluff, Dorks in love, One shot, Tweek’s parents are clueless, Art in fic Summary: Tweek is having a bad day and Craig goes to visit in order to be there for him.  Even if that just happens to be coloring and giving each other fake tattoos. 

Read below the cut

Craig knows it’s going to be one of those days when Tweek doesn’t show up to school. Craig’s used to it at this point, but it still never sits well with him whenever the desk next to him is empty. He’ll never admit it out loud, but it’s days like these that unsettle him the most and he finds himself missing the sound of his boyfriend trying his best to keep quiet or the way he can’t sit still to save his life.

It’s the consistency mostly, Craig tells himself or at least that’s the conclusion he’s come to. He’s just plain and boring Craig, who lives by schedule and likes to keep it that way. When Tweek can’t go to school, they don’t meet up at their locker in the morning so that they can hold hands to the cafeteria for breakfast and when that happens, well, Craig’s whole day is then thrown off completely.

The only constant on days like these are that if Craig doesn’t get detention, which chances of that are much higher on the days Tweek isn’t in school, then he immediately heads to his boyfriend’s house as soon as he leaves the building. 

Today, it’s Mrs. Tweak that answers the door.

“Well, hello Craig. Are you here to see Tweek?”

Of course he is.

No matter how often he shows up on days like these, the Tweaks always stare at him in awe when he shows up. Almost as if they wonder why Craig would show up when Tweek is like this. Which only pisses Craig off even more at how terrible his significant other’s parents are.

“Yes, ma’m. Is he okay?” Craig manages to ask between gritted teeth. He already knows what her answer is going to be too. But if it’s the best way to get permission to enter, then Craig’s going to put in the effort.

“Oh, he’s fine honey. Tweek’s just going through one of his usual fits. Nothing to worry about,” she says with her plastic smile.

Craig clenches his fist but carries on. “He is? Then can I go up and see him?”

Mrs. Tweak hestates, like she always does. As if she’s afraid to be caught in her lie. Craig doesn’t know why Tweek’s parents act like everything is always fine, when it’s not. Maybe they are ashamed of Tweek and his bad days. He will never know and maybe he’d have been turned away if he was any other person. 

But he’s Tweek’s boyfriend, and the Tweak’s absolutely adore Craig for making their only son a homosexual. As if Craig had any say in that. A gay son made Tweek more interesting and by that reasoning, made the Tweak’s more interesting. So now Tweek Bros Coffee gets more business and because of that Craig will always have special privileges, such as being invited in on a bad day

“Come on in Craig. I’m sure seeing you will make him snap right out of it.”

Mrs. Tweak opens the door wide and Craig has to pinch his leg to keep himself from snapping at her that it doesn't work that way.

Unlike the Tweaks, Craig has done his research on mental illness and while he’s come to accept that he can’t fix everything, It took him a lot of hard days to realise that as well, at least Craig knows a few techniques he can try.

Taking the steps, two at a time, Craig makes it up the stairs in no time. He reaches the room with a guinea pig poster, an anniversary gift from Craig, and knocks in a familiar song like pattern before opening the door. It their way of communicating to each other that they are visiting each other’s house. That and it prevents Tweek from panicking when the door suddenly opens.

“Nnnngh!”

His honey is bent over in concentration at his desk, a crayon in his hand sweeping across a booklet he doesn’t recognize. Tweek mutters for a moment more before screeching and tossing the yellow crayon across the room. 

Wild eyes turn to face Craig and it takes the boy only a few seconds to access the situation. Tweek waits for Craig to say something, anything. Craig knows better though. Tweek doesn’t need Craig to tell him everything is going to be fine. He doesn’t speak. Instead, Craig opens up his arms and it’s so worth it when his boyfriend smiles, even shakingly, and then throws himself across the room to wrap his arms around Craig’s neck in a warm embrace. 

“Hey Babe, I missed you in school today.”

“S-sorry Craig, I just couldn’t today,” Tweek groaned as he slumped further into Craig’s shoulder.

“It’s fine dude. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

It felt nice having his boyfriend in his arms. It didn’t exactly make up for missing him all day but it did come super close.

Tweek leaned back and reluctantly Craig let him go. 

“It was those damn underpant gnomes man! They kept me up all night trying to explain their profit system again and I-”

“Tweek,” Craig interrupted and after saying his name twice, his honey paused mid sentence to gape at him.

“Relax. You don’t have to explain,” he assured Tweek but then remembered that sometimes talking is exactly what Tweek needs, “..unless it helps?” 

“I-it does, but now it’s too much pressure to explain,” Tweek replied after taking a moment to consider Craig’s words. 

Craig didn’t pressure him though. Instead, he grabbed Tweek’s hand and led him back to the desk he’d been furiously working on. 

“Okay babe, then how about you explain what you were doing before I came in?”

Craig reached out towards the book spread open with different crayons littered all over it and saw that Tweek had been coloring in stars and planets. 

Is this…

“A space themed coloring book?” Craig ended up saying out loud.

“Y-yeah, I was trying to color before you got here. My therapist said it could help, b-but I can’t seem to stay in the lines."

True to his word, Tweek had gone off and messed up in some areas, but Craig didn’t care. He was too entranced by the fact that Tweek had doodled them standing together on a planet while holding hands. That and well, what’s more awesome than a space themed coloring book?

“C-can I have this picture when you’re done?” Craig practically whispered but there was no denying the need in his voice. He never wanted anything more this moment.

“What!?” Tweek shrieked, “Why dude? It sucks!”

“No it doesn’t,” Craig immediately defended the piece of work. It may not be perfect to Tweek but to Craig it was. “I like it, so I want it.”

“Ngh, I don’t know man...”

Tweek reached out for the coloring book and Craig let him have it. Not wanting his selfishness to lead to a panic attack In fact, he had an idea to help him convince Tweek.

“Then how about this, I color one for you and you finish coloring this one for me?”

Tweek’s eyes widened in shock before staring back down at the coloring book and pulling it close to his chest. “Oh jesus, you really want this that bad?”

Craig rolled his eyes at being called out like that but didn’t say anything to deny it either. “Don’t act like you don’t want one of mine either.”

“F-fine!” Tweek squeaked, his cheeks turning pink and a small smile crawling up his cheeks. “But you have to cut out the page so that I can finish and so that y-you can pick out whatever you want, man.”

“Okay.” Craig easily agreed. He grabbed the pair of scissors stored in the cup full of other writing utensils before carefully cutting out Tweek’s page. They each set up a coloring station, aka Tweek at his desk while Craig took the floor, with crayons, color pencils, and snacks that were brought up by Mrs. Tweak.

Craig flipped through the pages until he got to the center and found that there was a sheet full of space themed stickers. No wait, he was wrong. These were those fake tattoos that applied to the skin with water.

So cool!

Craig cut them out for later and continued searching until he settled on an awesome rocketship shooting through the sky. Immediately he drew a version of himself and Tweek in the window. It wasn’t as great as his boyfriend’s depiction of them, but it would have to do. After that, he picked up a blue color pencil and began to fill in the area around the ship to make it look more like outer space.

After a couple of minutes, Tweek stopped what he was working on to turn to Craig.

“Thanks…”

Craig paused as well to stare at his boyfriend. Unsure of what exactly he was being thanked for. Maybe his confusion is written all over his face because Tweek continues.

“For coming over to color with me.”

Oh.

Craig tried his best not to smile.

“No problem, honey. Is it helping?”

Tweek swiveled back towards his page to avoid facing him with what Craig assumes is another blush on Tweek’s face before nodding towards the wall.

This fills Craig with joy as they spend the next couple of minutes coloring in a peaceful silence.

That is until he hears his boyfriend groaning again in distress. It starts off with a couple noises here and there but then it turns into full on frustrated growling after ten minutes.

“Babe? You okay?”

Craig looks at his boyfriend in concern, only to see him snapping a purple crayon in half.

So, not okay.

He gets up and calmly collects the broken pieces from Tweek’s hands and places his free palm against his boyfriend’s cheek.

There’s tears in those emerald eyes and it immediately makes Craig’s heart fall.

“What’s wrong honey?”

Tweek shoves the paper as far away from him, almost practically ripping it in two before glaring holes in the now bare table in front of him. 

“I just can’t gah get the color to look right dammit!”

Craig frowns before using his palm to turn Tweek’s head to face him.

“Alright, then how about we take a break and come back to it later?”

Tweek blinks at him before replying.

“And do what?”

This time, Craig doesn’t hold back his smile at the adorably curious but pouty look his boyfriend gives him.

“How about we give each other Tattoos?”  

Tweek screams.

“Craig! We can’t ngh give each other tattoos! We don't know how or have the right tools! What if I get ink poisoning? That’s a thing right? Or worse! Infected!”

Wait what?

Craig is at a loss of words until it hits him what Tweek is actually talking about. 

Real tattoos.

He literally has to grab the tattoo sheet and show Tweek what he means in order to get him to calm down. When he finally understands that the tattoos are fake, Tweek takes a deep breath and stops shaking so hard.

“All better, babe?”

“Y-yeah.” Tweek stutters as he takes the sheet and looks over the options. “You want to wear these?”

Craig scoffs, “Uh yeah, they’re space themed. Of course, I do.”

Tweek giggles before pointing at a space helmet tattoo. “You should do this one.”

“Because I’m Spaceman Craig?”

“Yep,” Tweek nods before reaching for his scissors to cut out said tattoo. “Where do you want it?

“Hmm, how about on my face?”

“Okay!”

Tweek stands up and leads them to the bathroom so that they can wet a towel with warm water to use as a compress and make the tattoo work. As soon as they are done with Craig’s, the helmet comes out perfectly, it’s Tweek’s turn.

“Can I pick yours?”

“Uh maybe?” Tweek says sounding unsure, “What were you thinking?” Craig looks over the sheet before settling on a rocket. Just like the one Tweek keeps in his room and points at it.

“That one.”

Tweek smiles before agreeing and points to his own cheek so that Craig knows where to place it.

They go back and forth, placing fake tattoos on each other until Tweek points at a pair of stars and suggests, “We should each get one in the same place to match.”

It’s cheesy but it’s also the most romantic thing Craig’s ever heard of and he agrees without missing a heartbeat.

They both decide to wear their matching star in a place that can’t wash off so easily. This just happens to be on their upper arm. 

They spend the rest of the day covered in tattoos and coloring. When Craig has to go home and shower, he makes sure to avoid rubbing off the star tattoo.

When the next day comes and he finds Tweek at school showing off the star tattoo to Token, Jimmy and Clyde, Craig can’t help but feel a swell of pride in his chest and the hope that one day in the future they can get a permanent matching one.

End

[hydra-collector]

love & death & kisses

AO3

Pairings: Anxceit, platonic Analogical

Characters: Virgil Sanders, Janus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders (mentioned), Remus Sanders (mentioned)

TW: suicide attempts, self-harm, cursing, panic attacks, v v v slightly implied sexual content, food

Words: 4,153

Summary: Virgil meets someone.

Note: Human AU, I’m bad at naming, bad at summaries, Janus is ooc, i swear this is one of my better fics

Rain seeped into Virgil’s clothes, making him even colder than he already was. He’d forgotten his umbrella at work, so he’d have to get it tomorrow. Funny how things work that way. You put things off to the side for a rainy day, but when you need them they’re not there.

A tall, slim man stood beside him. He would usually avoid other people at the train station as much as he could, but he didn’t care at this point. He was cold, tired, in a depressive episode, and frankly too out of it to care.

The other man didn’t have an umbrella either, but seemed much less bothered by it. He checked his phone occasionally, but only typed something once or twice, aside from a seemingly frustrating venture on Google Maps from what Virgil could see. He was more on edge by whatever he was seeing on his phone than the weather.

“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest hotel is?”

The first thing he noticed was that the man was absolutely beautiful.

The second was his scar.

A wide scar, seemingly a burn mark, covered the entirety of the left side of his face. It traveled down his neck and past his shirt where Virgil couldn’t see it. His left hand had it as well, a pair of gloves stuffed in his pocket. His eyes were also heterochromatic, one much paler than the dark brown of the other.

Virgil didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially after the earlier events of the day, but he tried his best. He subtly hugged his side to provide pressure comfort.

“I think there’s one a couple blocks from Edwards Station. I don’t remember if it’s south or north. I can check.”

Virgil pulled out his own phone and found that it was half a mile north. Logan had sent him a text asking him why he was so late. He didn’t want to explain that he had to spend an hour on a bench in the pouring rain, trying to calm down from a panic attack. The stranger confirmed and checked his phone again, sighing when he didn’t find what he wanted.

Virgil could see his screen slightly. He’d been talking to a contact named April, both of them using a lot of cursewords angrily at each other. It looked like a pretty bad breakup. He figured he’d been kicked out.

The train arrived a few minutes after that. Virgil was never going to be comfortable with the thought of a big, heavy object rocketing in his general direction, but he wasn’t attempting suicide or anything at the moment. He learned to deal with it.

“Sorry, Logan, I’m here now.”

Logan had been Virgil’s roommate for almost three years now. He’d been his best friend even longer. He was the one there for him when he needed it most.

“What happened?”

Logan was making dinner for the two of them, which Virgil was disappointed to find out. The rule was they could make each other meals, but whoever made it got to choose what it was, and Virgil has never known Logan to make anything junkier than chili. Virgil had got him to eat macaroni and cheese a few times, so he counted that as a win.

“I… had a pretty bad panic attack.”

“Is there anything I can do to help now?”

“I think I’ll be okay. You don’t give bad hugs, though.”

Logan smiled slightly and hugged his friend firmly. He’d looked up the best ways to comfort people physically and figured out what was best for Virgil.

“Thanks, L. What’s for dinner?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make it yourself.”

“Hey, you have plenty! You’re using two pans!”

“You hate fish, Virgil.”

“That’s fish? Ew.”

“What did you think it was?”

Virgil shrugged.

“Go get dry clothes.”

Virgil changed into another, softer hoodie and sweatpants. He figured he’d get something to eat later. He could go a couple hours scrolling on Tumblr or something before he’d be really hungry.

When he turned his phone on, it was still open to the hotel directions.

I hope that guy’s alright.

He’d seen him a few times before, he realized. The unmistakable bleached hair against the man’s dark clothing he recognized had never been put to a face, but he’d been at the train station a few times before. Virgil vaguely wondered if he got off work at the same time as he did and it was a coincidence seeing him today since his whole thing with April, or whoever.

You don’t know what happened, shut up.

Virgil squeezed his arm with his fingernails, hoping to make his self-hate go away.

Today was exhausting.

He didn’t want to go to work the next day.

~~

He’d had another bad day. His boss complained about the quality of his work again. It seemed he was fucking everything up lately. He’d gotten Roman angry at him for an insult accidentally personal, and Logan angry at him because he’d started cutting again. Who could blame him, though? It was just so much easier to cope by hurting than actually trying to help himself. At least he was still showering.

At least it wasn’t raining.

It felt like it, though. There was weight on his shoulders and chest, and he needed to cry. He wished he could afford a therapist. Then again, did he even deserve help?

Stop.

His inner voice was right. He should stop being so self-deprecating, it was annoying, he’d always been an attention seek-

Stop.

Virgil exhaled, rubbing his forehead and sitting down on the bench instead of standing for the train.

“Didn’t get to thank you. For the directions.”

“Hm?”

It was the man again. This was the first time he’d seen him in the few days since then.

“I needed a place to stay, thanks for telling me where it was. I tried looking it up, then texting my girlfriend to ask her if… I ran out of data, I wouldn’t have been able to get there if you didn’t tell me.”

“Oh. You’re welcome. Glad you found the hotel.”

He half-wished he didn’t have to talk to anyone right now, but something drew him towards this man.

And then he initiated a conversation. For once in his life.

“You just get off work?”

“Yeah. I work at the zoo. Reptile house.”

“Wow. I just have a boring tech job. I’m assuming you like reptiles, which one’s your favorite?”

“It’s basic, but I’ve always liked snakes. I have three.”

“I could never handle snakes. I know they probably won’t hurt me, but I’m anxious about everything.”

Am I oversharing? Should I be talking about my anxiety? Is that weird?

“I have a deathly fear of spiders, so that’s valid.”

Virgil would have said something else, but the train came, and it was difficult to talk onboard. It was weird how easy it was to talk to this person, even though he’d just met him.

~~

They’d got to talking about snakes.

Big breeds, small breeds, the most dangerous, the least dangerous kinds of snakes. Virgil swore he was being converted to like reptiles by this man. He talked about them with so much excitement, more than he showed any other time. Mostly he was calm and collected, a bit like Logan.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh, it’s Janus.”

Like, Janice?

“As in the Roman god, not like suburban mom.”

“Ah. Virgil.”

Neither of them smiled often, so whenever someone who knew them saw the smile, it always made them a bit happier as well. It was already happening with them, even a week or two into knowing each other.

“What kind of snakes do you have?”

“I’ve got a green tree python, a corn snake, and a ball python. Diana, Mercury, Liber.”

“All Roman names, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“It’s fitting.”

It was so easy to talk to him. More so than any other stranger. Usually he’d get anxious and all his energy would be expended (he usually had a mental breakdown if it was a lot of people). Something about him, the way he talks, moves, looks at Virgil. He’s like a reptile.

Don’t get a crush on him. He’s probably straight.

Maybe he isn’t, though. He could be bi or pan or something.

The train interrupted their conversation, but Virgil kept glancing over at Janus throughout. He was looking down at his phone, he must’ve gotten more service. Virgil got off after him, but it gave him time to consider Janus before he got home.

“Logan, I’m getting a crush on a straight guy and I just found out his name today.”

“You’re odd, Virgil.”

“He’s hot. And he likes snakes.”

“You hate snakes. Wouldn’t someone with an interest in spiders be more akin to you?”

“...He’s scared of spiders.”

“Virgil…”

~~

And he did get a crush on Janus.

They talked every day they saw each other, finally remembering they could exchange numbers. They spent months getting to know each other with pretty limited interactions, as neither of them texted or called much anyway. It wasn’t exactly a good thing, though, because he either spent his time at work thinking about Janus, panicking because his boss was mad at him because he wasn’t doing his work (because he was thinking about Janus), or completely depressed because he was angry at her for giving him a panic attack. And the cycle would continue.

It turned out April was his girlfriend, and they’d been in an unhappy relationship for a year or so. He was glad she’d broke it off, but was left without a house for a while. He’d managed to share an apartment with his friend Remus and that was going okay. Virgil didn’t tell him about his depression, but was open enough about his anxiety. Luckily for Virgil, he mentioned an ex-boyfriend.

He was not straight. Maybe he had a chance.

Are you kidding? He’s not gonna want to date you, worthless bitch. You can’t make him deal with your mental health, and he probably hates you anyway.

Their interactions were mostly limited to the train station, but that only meant Virgil appreciated them even more.

Still, he wished he could be happy.

The only times he was were, well, when he was talking to Janus and when Logan gave him hugs. Talking to Logan was enjoyable, but he kept reminding himself about everything going on, everything wrong with himself, how he kept fucking up, and cutting and wanting to kill himself. With Janus, he forgot. It was so easy to smile and laugh at sarcastic jokes and the cute things he did, like blush when he laughed and stick out his tongue unintentionally.

Time flew by when they were together. There wasn’t enough time before the train came to talk nearly as long as Virgil would have liked. Still, every interaction was worth it. His love for Janus grew the more he talked about what he does, and he actually seemed interested in Virgil’s job, even though he swore it must be the most boring on the planet.

“I think you’ve conquered my fear of snakes, Janus.”

“What’s this? I’ve shown my little ball of anxiety the ways of the snake with my own love for him and reptiles.”

My little ball of anxiety? And did he just say he loved me?

Was he thinking about this too much?

One corner of his mouth was raised in a smile and Virgil couldn’t help but blush, however much he wanted to ignore it. Janus chuckled slightly and picked up the conversation again, mentioning how Diana had gotten out and managed to get herself on the couch. Virgil proceeded as well, debating whether it meant anything or not.

~~

Virgil felt sick.

He felt all things horrible. Depressed, anxious, angry, hopeless, and worthless.

Over and over it repeated.

“I’m afraid someone as unstable as you isn’t fit to work here.”

Unstable.

Unhealthy.

Worthless.

Useless.

What was he going to do? He wouldn’t have money to keep living with Logan, he had to go through the stress of finding another job, people would judge him, he wouldn’t even be able to eat.

There was nothing he could do.

He trembled as he made his way to the train station. He was going to have a panic attack. Hell, maybe he was already having a panic attack. He wanted to cry but he wouldn’t cry. He had to go home and explain to Logan and he’d just have to live until-

No you don’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was going to the train station, goddamnit.

He rubbed his hands on his face, static buzzing in his ears as tears almost came. This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay. Finally.

He went up a different set of stairs, avoiding Janus. As he walked, the static slowly faded and was replaced with silence. Chosen silence, that is. He could hear the cars and the wind and the rain that had just begun to fall.

Fitting.

The train was early today, thank God. Its rumbling was familiar from the distance.

He took his last few steps to the edge of the platform, ignoring the tiny bit of anxiety that came with jumping down. He vaguely heard his name called over and over by the deep voice he knew well by now. He ignored it as well, starting with a slow walk, letting the raindrops soak into his hoodie. The walk sped up, and the rain got heavier, blurring out the train’s lights in a pretty way. He forced the muffled sound of his name out again, but it was getting louder.

There’s nothing you can do.

The walk got faster and turned into a run. He needed to catch the train before it slowed down.

Funny. Catching the train.

His ears pounded with the silence. So many things to distract him, things he loved. The awful sound of rain, knowing you’re going to get wet, but reveling in it anyway. The patter of feet on ground, now wood and gravel. And his voice, his beautiful voice.

The screech from the train stopped all other sounds, even splitting the silence in the bubble he created. It was warm, he hoped it was blood, so warm, so wonderfully warm.

Janus had never hugged Virgil.

He’d assumed he wasn’t one for being touchy-feely. He was tall and handsome, like the stereotypical distant, sexy man. But he wasn’t distant. He was there when Virgil needed him, even if he didn’t always know it. He put a hand on his shoulder or took Virgil’s hands in his to calm him down. He wished he’d gotten to know what kind of embrace he would have. Was it soft? Was it firm like Logan’s? Was it too tight? Was it always awkward like some people’s?

More than that, he wanted to know how his kisses were.

He imagined them soft, then passionate. Like something Virgil had always needed, the sweet feeling of pure love. He imagined he was the type to give solemn forehead kisses when a moment was serious, and short nose ones when the moments were playful. He imagined he’d kiss wherever he could on someone’s face, on his cheeks and chin, nose, lips, neck. They’d all be perfect for the occasion. There was a difference between a peck on someone’s cheek and smushing his lips against someone’s face. A slow kiss to the jaw was different from a badly-aimed one. Every subtle difference in position would say something new.

“I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“I need you right now.”

“You need me.”

He wished he’d learned every message. He wished he’d kissed Janus before today. He wished he’d at least told him and got rejected like he knew he would. He wished he could have everything. A hug and a kiss saying ‘it’s going to be okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. It’s-’

“-going to be okay.”

The sound of the rain hit the stones sharply, akin to the feeling on his back. Voices shouting, his voice, and a new sound.

His heart.

Virgil let himself sink into the rhythm and the feeling of warmth that encompassed him. Something was soft through the damp fabric, moving slightly every now and then. It was the pressure of something, a body-

-Janus.

He opened his eyes to see the blurry outline of blond hair covering Janus’s face. He raised his arm slowly to push it away, just then noticing the arms wrapped tightly around him, using the most of their surface area.

Janus’s eyes were beautiful and sad, was he- crying? Virgil couldn’t tell if it was the rain or tears until he sobbed, hugging Virgil even tighter, burying his face in his shoulder and muttering words Virgil couldn’t hear.

Virgil realized he was crying too. Of course he was crying, he was… alive.

He was alive.

“I’m sorry, Virgil. Please, please know I’m here for you.”

Virgil said nothing, still mute from shock. So many things happened just then, and now he was being hugged. And it was perfect, despite the rain.

“I could’ve- should’ve died.”

“No, Virgil, you shouldn’t have. You couldn’t have, I’d never let you.”

Did he really care?

“I need to- I need to tell you something.”

This could go horribly wrong.

I don’t care anymore. I’ve made the most impulsive decision of my life today, might as well make another.

Virgil took his hand to push Janus’s chin up, thumb tracing the scar closer to his lips.

“Can I-”

“Can I kiss you, Jan?”

He let his head drop towards Virgil’s, lips so close now. He would have smiled his snake smile if he could have felt an ounce of a smile.

Virgil pressed his parted lips to Janus’s, hand resting on the back of his neck. He pulled his fingers through his wet hair, feeling its softness even now.

It was everything he had imagined.

At first it was soft and tender, but Janus deepened it, hand wriggling out from under Virgil to hold his face. The raindrops drowned out that moment from the outside world. Janus’s heart quickened, as did Virgil’s, but they both relaxed into it. The scar was rough against Virgil’s face sometimes, but it only made him want him more. All either of them could hear were the raindrops contrasting with their hearts.

Virgil wanted to kiss him longer, hold this forever. When they did break, Janus laid his burned cheek against Virgil’s.

“Do you need to go home?”

He thought of Logan and how upset he was when Virgil cut, how hard he tried and how bad he felt for him. And how bad Virgil felt for hurting him.

“Can we go to your place? It’s... closer.”

“Oh- I suppose we could. I doubt Remus will be there.”

They avoided the people trying to help Virgil, weaving through the few scattered onlookers, Janus’s arm resting around Virgil’s waist. Virgil was scared he would have a panic attack again and tried to focus on Janus.

He called a cab as he wasn’t about to take the train after that, and sat in the backseat with Virgil, not letting him go for a second. It was expensive and Virgil tried to get Janus to let him pay, but he didn’t have much of an argument. Janus half-carried Virgil up the stairs and into his apartment.

It was clean, which Virgil guessed was Janus’s doing given what he’d said about Remus, and fairly dark. It wasn’t the kind of dark that made you feel uneasy, but rather as in lighted only with soft ambient light. He didn’t get a good look at their living room before Janus pulled him into his bedroom. It was painted a pretty yellow and lit with a color changing lamp, which Janus turned to purple.

He sat Virgil down on the bed, who was still rather dazed from the day. Janus rummaged through his clothing drawers until he found a shirt smaller than the others and an old-looking pair of sweatpants.

“Here, you can change into this.”

Janus grabbed some clothes for himself and left the room for a moment, allowing him privacy. Virgil removed his soaked hoodie and Evanescence t-shirt, putting on the soft purple one Janus had found. It had short sleeves, but he didn’t have anything to lose at this point. He put on the sweatpants, soft and warm and opened the door for Janus. He was changed into a big hoodie that Virgil would kill to wear.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I- I think so. Sorry about the, the cuts.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. If you want me to get you something with long sleeves-”

“I think I’ll just end up stealing your hoodie at some point. Otherwise… it’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Virgil sat down on the bed again, craving the soft blankets. Janus took his spot beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders.

“Thanks, Jan. It- I’m, I’m alive because of you. I don’t know how I could repay that.”

“Tell me when this happens, and I’d die happy.”

Virgil smiled, leaning against Janus. He pushed himself against the wall, pulling Virgil along with him. He heaved the thick blanket around him and Virgil, but mostly Virgil. He snuggled into the weight and comfort, still sitting against Janus as if he were the only thing keeping him balanced.

“What happened today?”

“I got… fired. ‘Cause I’m too depressed to work. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“I can help you find a job, V. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Sometimes it just… feels that way. Like you’re never going to get out of this pit of loneliness and you’re sure everyone hates you, and you’re so scared something will go wrong all the time even though you don’t really care.”

“I don’t hate you. And I know you can end this the healthy way. Shall we start with some ice cream?”

“Ice cream’s not exactly healthy, Janus.”

“Ssshh.”

He left for a moment and returned with two tubs of chocolate ice cream and a spoon for each of them.

“No bowls? And two whole tubs?”

“Mhm. It’s better that way. And you could have both of them if you asked.”

“Nah, you deserve some ice cream too. I probably hurt you a lot by doing that.”

“Mm-mm, Virgil. You’re hurting, not me. Self-care rule number one: you’re better than everyone for a while, put your feelings first.”

“I’m not.”

“Pretend. Now, what would you like to do?”

Virgil considered the question for a moment. It might be nice to listen to music, or to distract himself with a game or movie, but he didn’t really want that.

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“I… want to kiss you.”

Janus turned pink for a moment, before smiling his smile with one corner of his mouth.

Before he could say anything that he wanted to, Virgil kissed that smile. He wondered what it would be like to do so many times, so he wasn’t going to miss his opportunity. He put his ice cream down to hold Janus’s face with cold fingers, savoring the feeling of the little half-smile turning surprised and then into a giddy smile that began to kiss back. Virgil grinned when it ended, looking back into Janus’s eyes.

“So you’re going to surprise kiss me now?”

“Yep-”

Janus, just as quickly as Virgil had, kissed him quick on the nose, eliciting a blush from Virgil this time.

“Unfair, Janus.”

“Nah.”

“I’m gonna pout and eat my ice cream now.”

“Is there anything else we can do while eating ice cream?”

“I suppose we could watch a movie.”

“Lion King?”

“...Lion King? I mean, yeah, sure, okay!”

He smiled as Janus put the movie on, his familiar excitement seeping through. Virgil managed to wrestle the soft hoodie from him, revealing that one, he had no shirt, and two, that Virgil would cuddle Janus’s burn marks and he appreciated that. As Virgil fell asleep next to him, he pressed his lips to his forehead, who was just awake enough to feel.

And one by one, the messages were unlocked to him. Once, after a dance, came the desperate, passionate kiss that told him “I need to kiss you.” One Disney marathon he came to feel the peppered kisses on his cheeks that said “You’re adorable.” After a weekend trip alone he got the long cheek kiss that said ‘I missed you.’ When he finally got a job, he was given the messy kiss, cheeks held tight that said “I’m so proud of you.” One tired night he blushed at the kisses on his jaw and neck that said “You’re hot and I’m bored.”

And again and again and again, the tender forehead kisses that said “I’m here for you. I love you.”

[toomuchtv95]

Struggling Chapter 1

Characters: Jay Halstead, Hank Voight, Antonio Dawson

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Eventually) 

Word Count: 3.1k+

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Sadness, Talk about PTSD and Anxiety, Swearing

A/N: I know this chapter is a little boring, but it’s only the first chapter. I promise the rest shouldn’t be. 

Series Masterlist

This morning was one of those mornings where you felt like you weren’t going to get through the day. After taking your medication, you started to feel better. You had called your dad saying you were going to be late and he didn’t have to ask. As you arrived at the district, you half waved to Trudy as you headed up the stairs. Upon arriving upstairs, you could see that the team was deep in a case. You glanced at Antonio's empty desk, and it doesn’t look like he was even here. As you discarded your jacket on the back of your chair, your father appeared in the doorway of his office and you knew he was looking for you.

“Everything alright?” You walked into his office and sat down on the couch.

“I’m fine. Just having one of those days.” You looked down at your fingers not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Are you sure?” Your father sat next to you on the sofa, pulling you into his side. You let out a small sob not realizing you were holding back. After a few minutes, the tears stopped and you gathered yourself. "Listen why don't you take the day off?"

“If I go home. I’ll just be worse. My therapist says that I need to keep my mind busy.” You stood up from the couch and headed outside to the bullpen.

“Okay, you and Halstead today.” Your father spoke from behind you, causing you to look at him with some confusion. “Antonio’s out today. Something came. Halstead, fill her in on the case.” Your dad disappeared into his office.

“I’m about to head out. Fill you on the way.” You nodded your head as you walked back over to your desk grabbing your jacket before following Jay.

After Jay filled you on the case the two of your sat in a comfortable silence until you decided to break it. “So, how’s the security job going?”

“It’s good. Never thought I would be working in the marijuana business.” You let out a chuckled as you stared out the window.

“It’s the new thing and hey, medical marijuana has been proven to help people who need it.” Pulling away from the window you glanced at Jay who was still skeptical about the whole thing.

“Hey, if your so fond of it I can get you in.” You looked at Jay who you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Yeah, no. I’ll stick to chasing bad guys, but thanks for the offer.” Jay pulled up to the curb in front of the address of the house the two of you were looking for. “This is the address?” You pointed to a red brick house with a white porch swing.

"Yeah, that's the address." The two of you walked up the sidewalk towards the house and as you approached the house you got this bad feeling.

The two of you stood in front of the door as Jay knocked. “Sarah Watson. Chicago PD. We need to ask you some questions.”

“Well, someone’s home there a car in the driveway.” You stepped to the side to see if you could get a look inside which you did, and you saw a body. “Jay. Body.” Both of you drew your guns before Jay kicked in the door. You made your way towards the body and when you saw here there were stab wounds to her abdomen. You squatted down to check her pulse, but it was too late. You shook your head no to Jay before he headed upstairs.

You slowly made your way through the living room and just as you were about to head into the kitchen you heard squeaking of the floorboards from behind you. As you turned around, Michael Watson, slammed you into a nearby wall causing you to drop your gun on the floor. You struggled against the wall and luckily Jay came up and grabbed Michael. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You let out a breath as Jay handcuffed Michael. As you grabbed your gun from the floor, Jay grabbed his radio and called the situation in.

“Hey Y/N the usual?” Gabby appeared behind the bar with a rag in hand and then leaned forward on the bar top.

“Actually, I’ll take a whiskey and make it double.” You took off your coat and hung on the back of the chair before taking a seat.

“Rough day?” Gabby poured you your drink as you nodded your head slightly. “Okay, well let me know if you need anything else.” Taking a sip of your whiskey, you looked around the bar to see the crowd starting to pick up.

After having a few drinks, you started to feel the alcohol take effect and you needed to stop before you do something you'll regret. You said goodbye to Gabby and made your way through the crowd and once the cold air from outside hit you, you instantly became sober. Walking outside, you leaned against the brick wall and everything started to hit you at once. Your eyes were burning, and your chest felt heavy as if it were someone who was sitting on top of you. You were so sick of crying. You were sick of being alone, but you couldn’t even imagine where to start to find a new life.

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you wiped your tears and composed yourself. As you rounded the corner, you bumped into someone causing you to look up from the ground. “Jay.” You breathed out and took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“Well I saw you leaving the bar upset about something and I just wanted to make sure you got a cab okay.” Jay looked at you and he could see the tear stains on your face along with the puffiness in your eyes. “Come on let me take you home.”

“Okay.” You nodded your head as Jay guided you to his car. The car ride back to your apartment was quiet which gave you time to put yourself together. As Jay pulled up to you, apartment building, you just sat there not wanting to go inside to an empty apartment.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Jay reached over and grabbed hold of your hand causing you to look up at him.

“I’m just having a rough couple of days.” You pulled your hand away from Jay to unbuckle your seatbelt. You opened the door and climbing out. "Thanks for the ride, Jay. I'll see you Monday at work." Once you made it inside your apartment, you leaned against your door and closed your eyes to hold back the tears.

After gathered yourself yet again, you took a hot shower, changed into your PJs, and grabbed a water from the fridge there was a soft knock on the door. Setting the water on the counter, you walked over to the door and opened it to see Jay standing there with a bag of Chinese take-out. All you did was give him a soft smile while opening the door wider for him. “I couldn’t go home without making sure you were okay.”

“Come in.” You closed the door behind him and headed back into the kitchen to grab him a drink. “Can I get you something to drink?”

"I'll take water." Jay set up the food on the coffee table, while you grabbed a bottle of water from Jay and silverware.

“You didn’t have to come back, Jay. I’m okay.” Handing Jay his water, you sat down on the couch as he handed you a carton of food.

“I know there something going on with you lately. You’ve more distinct than usual.” Jay took a seat next to you and took a bite of his food. Over the last 2 years, you have been debating on telling Jay about your late husband, because hiding it in for this long is no good. But you didn’t want to tell people because you didn’t any empathy from anyone.

"Ever since I left the Army, I've been struggling with anxiety and PTSD, and some days it gets the best of me.” Jay knew the basics about your time in the Army just as you did about his time in the Army and you weren’t lying when you said it started since the Army, because it’s kind of did. It got worse once your husband died.

“Yeah, I know what that’s like.” Jay took a sip of his water.

“I’m on some medication that helps, and I use to see a therapist once a week, now it’s about once a month.” You stared in front of you at nothing in particular. “Some of the stuff I saw, it’s hard to forget.”

“You know if you ever want to talk, I’m here.” You turned to look at him with a soft smile. “Now how about some TV?” You nodded your head as Jay grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV.

The rest of the night, you and Jay sat on the couch eating take-out and watching some corny movie on TV before the two of you fell asleep on the couch. It wasn’t till you woke up in the middle of the night to see that you Jay had moved to the other couch and you couldn’t help but smile. You quietly got up, not to wake Jay in the process. Grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch, you gently laid it over Jay before turning both TV and light and heading into your bedroom. As you laid in bed, you stared up at ceiling fan and you couldn’t help but think that Jay could have left at any point of the night, but he said and you couldn’t help but smile. Turning onto your side, you opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out a photo of you and Ryan. In less than a week, it would mark the 2nd anniversary of your husband's death and it still felt like it happened yesterday that those people in uniform knocked on your door.

That was the day your world flipped upside down. You two were only married for about 6 months and you barely enjoyed being married. The two of you got married a month before he was called back to active duty and it was hard for you two to communicate. The first two months, you talked through video chat and letters, but as the months went on the conversations started to fade. Tears started to form in your eyes as you thought back to all the years you spent with Ryan. You closed your eyes as you quietly cried yourself to sleep.

The Next Day

Waking up this morning, Jay was gone so he must have slipped out before you woke up. Jay, of course, left a note saying he had to work his security job, and he would call you later to check in on you. You spent the morning cleaning up the mess you and Jay had created when you heard a soft knock on the door. You were confused about who it could be, so you answered the door with caution. Slowly opening the door, you saw Antonio standing there with his hand in his pockets.

“What are doing here?” You let Antonio in before shutting the door behind him.

“Thought we could grab some lunch since I have the weekend free. The kids are with Laura this weekend.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just change.” You disappeared into the bedroom and changed into a pair of jeans and a plain black shirt. Walking over to your gun safe, you punched in the code and grabbed your gun and badge.

Once you and Antonio arrived at the diner that you two usually have lunch at, and you ordered your lunch. “So, what’s the real reason for lunch today?” You sipped your coke as you looked at Antonio who had a concerned look on his face.

“I’m just checking in.”

“Next week marks two years since Ryan was killed.” You played with the ice in your cup with the straw. “And I still struggling to move on.”

Antonio reached over and held your hand for comfort. "I don't know how to say this without upsetting, so I'm just going to come out and say it.” You looked up at Antonio not ready to hear him, but you know he wasn’t going to stop. “I think the only way to move on is to say goodbye. You’ve been holding on for something that not going to happen. You loved him and I’m not saying you need to forget him but you need to move on so you can be happy again.”

You pulled away as you saw the waitress come with your food. You both thanked her as she left you to eat. “How do I do that?” You picked up a fry and took a bite.

“I don’t know. You gotta figure that out for yourself.” Antonio took a bite of his burger as you ate some of your chicken wrap sandwich. “Whatever you decided I will be there for you.”

The two of you ate in silence before you spoke up. “Jay drove me home last night after having a couple of drinks and having a minor breakdown. Then he came back with food and won’t leave until I was okay.” Chewing another fry, you looked up Antonio who had a small smile on his face. He always liked the thought of you and Jay together as more than friends, but you didn't see Jay that way or you didn't for a long time, but now you weren’t sure how you felt. You've and Jay got a lot closer in the last couple of months. “He spent the night.”

“Really?” You could hear the shock in his voice.

“Nothing happened. He fell asleep on the couch and I went to sleep in my bed. He left in the morning and left a note saying he had to work his security job." Antonio raised an eyebrow at you. “Shut up. We are just friends. I don’t like him that way.”

“You know it’s okay to like or fall in love with someone. Ryan would want you to be happy.”  You didn’t say anything else and just continued to eat in silence.

After lunch, Antonio dropped you off at home and now you needed to figure things out. You had gotten a text from Jay which you replied and went on to doing something you needed to do. Making your way to your bedroom, you opened the top drawer of your dresser and grabbed the envelope that was marked with your name. Taking a deep breath, you sat on the floor with your back against the foot of the bed and started at the letter. There were tearstains on there from when you had first gotten the letter and all the other times you have read the letter. Opening the envelope, you pulled out the letter with shaky hands.

Dear Y/N,

I’m sitting in our bedroom, the night before I am set to deploy, and I don’t know how to start this letter. Expect to say that I love you and that you meant the world to me.

If you are reading this letter, it means I’m gone. I hope my death wasn’t a long painful death. Writing this letter brings me pains me as much it does for you to read it.

The last 3 years of my life with you have been the best, and I hope they were the same for you. I can only imagine how you’re feeling. Angry, upset, pissed, sad, the list could go on, but with time it will all go away, and you will be able to be happy again. I know that you hate me for leaving, but it’s my job to serve this country. So, do whatever you have to do to let the anger out. Scream at the top of your lungs, hit the boxing gym, or whatever to let the anger out, just don’t hold it in. Then once you let the anger out, lean on someone for support. I know you will try to be strong on your own and push people away but don't.

Be happy, I want you to be happy. I need you to be happy. I need you to move and find someone. I know you think I’m crazy for telling you to find someone after I’m gone but I don’t want you to be alone. You deserve to happy. You deserve to be loved by someone. You deserve to have the life you want. I’m not saying right away but in time you will be ready, and when you are, don't let anything get in your way of finding love again. And when you feel like you found that someone, you’re going to have to let me go. I’m not saying to forget me, because I wouldn’t want you to, but I would want you to share your life with someone and to be happy again.

Hate me all you want, but I need you to let me go when the time is right. Don’t hold on to me for too long because if you do then you will never be able to find love again. With all that said, I hope when you find him, he's the one. I hope he makes you happy. I hope he gives you the life and family you want.

I’m sorry we didn’t get the life we wanted. I know we barely had time to be married. I know we wanted a future together and I am sorry that it’s not going to happen now. God, did I not think this was how it was going to end. I thought we were going to be with each other till the end of time. I hate that I had to write this letter. I hate that I had to leave you and especially hate that I will never be able to hold you again and tell you that I love you. I never in my life did I imagine I would find someone to share it with until you came along. When you came into my life, I knew I was in trouble. I never believed in love at first sight until I meet you. I can sit here and list all the moments we had together but that would just make you cry even more, and I don't want to do that to you.

So, like I started this letter by saying I love you, I am going to end it in the same way. I love you, don't forget that.

-Yours always, Ryan

As you folded the paper back up, you held it close to your chest as you let out a weep. No matter how many times you had read this letter, it means more to you now then it did when you first read it. Letting go and moving on is the first step to being happy again.

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[writes-in-skies]

That day at the pond

“Growing up, I have always been told I should marry well. But I also know deep in my heart that I would marry for love above all else. My Great Aunt Lorraine told me it was wishful thinking on my part,” said Astoria Greengrass, as she was working on a charcoal drawing on her drawing book in her lap. When she was satisfied, she started using colours which she always looked forward to when she started drawing. 

“Why do you supposed she would say such a thing?” questioned the person who was the subject of her drawing. 

Astoria shrugged, her eyes still on her drawing. It is important to her that she got every detail right. “Perhaps she knows what she’s talking about,” she replied. 

“Do you always believe what she tells you?” the subject asked again with interest. 

“She is a credible woman. Great Aunt Lorraine always advised to protect the heart because it is the most important thing anyone can own and the easiest thing to lose. She even once said to not expect growing up with the satisfaction for being loved unconditionally. I had to hear that in my childhood. Can you imagine someone stomping on your hopes and dreams that young?”

“Your Great Aunt might be onto something. What if you give everything to this person and you do not get the happy ending you wanted? It would be a mistake.”

Astoria finally looked up at her subject, “Why are people so afraid of making mistakes? Mistakes of part of learning. How do I know if it is a mistake if I don’t even try?” she challenged. 

“The price you pay for your mistakes takes so much out of you. And all that is left is an empty shell of a person you once were.”

Astoria scoffed in disbelief and focused her attention back to her drawing, “Still pondering about your childhood mistakes, are we, Draco? Your shoulder must be heavy carrying all that baggage with you even after 4 years.”

Draco Malfoy shifted uncomfortably in his sitting position. He knew he would ruin Astoria’s drawing but this has always been a difficult topic for him. Never has he talked about his experience with anyone else other than his close friend, Blaise Zabini. Even then, he was not entirely an opened book. His mother suggest getting a therapist but he does not believe it would help all the things he went through. He knew Astoria is willing to be his confidant but he does not want to burden her with his past. It would be too risky. 

“Hasn’t your Great Aunt Lorraine refrained you from sarcasm in the presence of an eligible bachelor? It is deemed inappropriate, yes?” Draco teased while hoping it would change the subject away from him and back to her. 

Astoria rolled her eyes and sighed, “What she does not know won’t hurt her. Or are you a tattletale, Draco Malfoy?” 

Draco scoffed while picking a clover from the grass he sat on. “Anyways,” she spoke again, luckily for him. “Even when I had to hear her say things like true love doesn’t exist, never have I ever wavered. As human beings, we have the ability to choose whom we love.” 

“But we are not simply human beings, are we?”

“That’s true,” she replied quietly. “Have you ever wondered how different our lives be if we were not born as Purebloods or wealthy? Just normal people?” 

“I cannot say I have not.”

Astoria nodded absentmindedly at his response. “I can never imagine myself living...humbly if I am being completely honest. I always knew I would be well off for the rest of my life,” Astoria answered, looking at Draco earnestly. “I am not ashamed of that,” she added. 

“You shouldn’t.”

“I always imagined I would live in this big house with a spiral staircase where vines and flowers cover the handles. Every room would be bright and cheerful, filled with souvenirs from all over the world so that when I enter that room, I can always think of the happy times I had in my travels. There would be a two-storey library with loads of books that you would have to use a ladder to read every single one of them. There would be a nook area with comfortable silk pillows. And paintings! There would be beautiful expensive paintings on the walls that tell a new story when you pass by and you can’t help but stare at it all day long.” 

Draco unconsciously widened his eyes at her  detailed description of her future home. Astoria, perceived his actions as judgemental and blushed, “You’re probably thinking, ‘Merlin, this girl is crazy’, aren’t you?” 

He chuckled at the sight of her growing red cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He had been tempted to do that himself for some time now, but continued with the safer option of fidgeting with the plucked clover between his fingers to keep his hands busy in her presence,  “I would never think that,” he replied honestly.  

Astoria laughed as she put down her drawing materials and wiped her hands on a cloth. “I always knew what I wanted in life. I knew I would be well off. I knew for a fact that I would get a career that I am passionate about. I knew that I would live in a beautiful house filled with things that I love. I knew that I would have the bestest friends whom I love dearly. Lastly, I knew I would be married for love...have a husband who would be crazy for me as much as I will be for him. We would have children and we would make our house filled with happiness, love and laughter...But, I am not sure I could have that anymore.”

“And why would you say that?” he asked curiously.

She paused to figure out what the right thing to say is without giving anything away. “I have no control over the ticking clock," she said.

“What does that mean?” he asked again, wrinkling his forehead. He did not understand what clock she was talking about.

Astoria clears her throat and gathers her things. It was not the right moment to talk about that matter, “I should be off now before my Great Aunt Lorraine wonders where I have gone to.”

“Wait, I don't even get to see how you drew me?”

“No,” Astoria smirked as she got on her feet and placed her belongings in her satchel. The sun was scorching that afternoon so she conjured a parasol with her wand. “There is enough room in this parasol for two,” she offered Draco. 

“Would it be wise? Your Great Aunt would have a fit if she sees,” Draco replied with his hands in his pockets. He had to control the urge to grab her and to kiss her. He could not do that. He could never. 

“That is true,” she remarked and began her walk back to join her Great Aunt Lorraine who had been attending a social event taking place. Draco followed behind, leaving space between them so as to not draw suspicion that they have been hanging out. 

Lately, this has become a routine between them. It had been for almost 2 years now. Since she was 18, Astoria would attend social events with her Great Aunt as her companion. Great Aunt Lorraine is a widow and childless but often travels. She offered Astoria a chance to stay with her in an estate on Monaco while she pursues apprenticeship in Magical Arts and History. Astoria had a passion for both arts and history and had always wanted to pursue a career in it. By day, she would attend to her studies, and refine her art skills at Great Aunt Lorraine’s request, and after a long day she would retire to the parlour where her Great Aunt awaits for her to read a book and they would talk about current events. Occasionally, Great Aunt Lorraine wishes to travel overseas and Astoria would follow as her loyal companion. 

Draco, at age 22, had to be practically dragged out of Malfoy Manor by his dear friend, Blaise Zabini. Blaise told him enough was enough and brought him showed him the world of their twenties outside the gloom of the manor. Together, they jumped from one place to the next and made a dent in their newly acquired trust fund they both were entitled to at age 18. Most of the time they would be seen partying in clubs. On occasions, they had to play the role as the new heirs of their families and be present at social events of the high society. 

It was the chance encounters of those high society social events that brought Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy to be in each other's peripheral vision even more, thus sparking their friendship. 

Draco cannot help but be drawn to Astoria whenever he sees her. They have known each other for years. They were even in the same House at Hogwarts but never saw each other as friends, let alone held a conversation. 

It all started with a simple friendly nod. An exchanged "Oh, you're here too" type of look. It then became a longing stare while the other was looking away, and then the inevitable eye contact. The thing that sealed their fate was the friendly smile Astoria gave him one day when she was drowning in a boring conversation but had to stay by her Great Aunt's side pretending to be interested. She remembers spotting Draco at a corner and thanked the Gods that there was someone familiar at the party. 

Draco was intrigued by her. He wondered why Daphne Greengrass' little sister was seen around with an old lady all across the world. She was different than he remembered too. He remembered a brash girl who was stubborn and always spoke her mind. Now she is this high society lady in training who spoke only when spoken to and nods politely.

It was Blaise' push, literally, that helped them to start a conversation. However, it never lasted long as they both hoped. Astoria will always be dragged away by her Great Aunt who made it clear to her to stay away from young men much like Draco and Blaise. It did not help matters that both young men always show up to parties with a string of lady friends in their arms. 

Even so, Draco usually separates himself away from Blaise and waits for when Astoria is by herself, away from the prying eyes of her scary relative. It was an unspoken arrangement between them. 

Astoria detests their situation. Hiding and pretending not to know one another. Why should she have to hide her feelings? Why did she have feelings for someone so...difficult? She wonders if Draco had genuine feelings for her or that he saw her as a potential conquest. 

Draco did not mind their situation. It was the only way he could talk to Astoria even if it was in hiding.  He figured it was better than not spending time with her at all. He put up an act. He made it seem like he's doing his family a favour by representing them at parties to repair the Malfoy name. 

While some bought the act, there were some skeptics towards the Malfoy heir. Especially Great Aunt Lorraine Greengrass who warns Astoria from getting close to Draco. 

“Astoria, darling, there you are. I was beginning to send a search party for you,” Great Aunt Lorraine remarked as she saw Astoria approaching. "Thanks to you I had to listen to Seraphina De Lourd going on and on about how her granddaughter has been swarming with dozens of marriage proposals. No one likes a bragger."

“Apologies, Auntie Lorraine. I was by the pond working on a drawing. I guess I was feeling inspired and lost track of time,” Astoria replied. 

Great Aunt Lorraine noticed the figure who was walking behind her and sent him a warning look. She may be old but she is not stupid. She knew where Astoria had been running off with during social events. That troubled Malfoy boy was always close by. “We must be off now,” she commanded. 

“Of course, Auntie,” Astoria obeyed as she offered her arm for her great aunt to hold on to. 

“Do say goodbye to Lady De Lourd, dear. Remember, it is impolite to leave without informing the host,” Lorraine reminded her. “And do say hello at least to their son, Gerald. He has been asking about you. Playing hard to get is fun but don’t be too good at the game, darling.”

Astoria nodded obediently, “Of course, Auntie. I will be right back.”

As soon as Astoria is out of sight, Lorraine approaches an unsuspecting Draco who had since re-joined his mate, Blaise and their gaggle of women. 

"You are not getting anywhere with my niece if you condone these escapades with her," she said to Draco.

"Pardon?"

"I sure wished one of you would end this immediately. You two aren't a good match anyways. She is far out of your league. Why Astoria decided to give you the time of day I will never understand," Lorraine continued. She knew Draco was squirming and enjoyed the sight of it. "If you think I am being too harsh on you, you will have another thing coming. My nephew, Hyperion Greengrass - Astoria's father - will eat you alive if he even finds out you and his precious youngest daughter even exchanged greetings. So why don't you save yourself the trouble and just leave her alone, yes?" 

She then gestured to where Astoria was standing with Gerald De Lourde who had taken her hand and kissed her palm. There wasn't anything between the two but Lorraine wanted to make the message clear to Draco that Astoria is not available to him. The message did reach Draco. He did not like it. He never liked seeing any guy trying to get with Astoria. But he did not have a say in the matter. He couldn't go up there and tell him to back off. 

Lorraine pulled Draco by his arm so he would have to bend down in order to whisper to his ear, "We both know you are a smart cookie. Sooner or later she will choose who gets to be her husband, and I will assure that it will not be you."

"Are they together?" Draco asked bravely. 

"No. Not yet at least."

"I see," he smirked.

"It may not be this guy, but she has been swarming with marriage proposals. Perks of having me as a mentor," Lorraine remarked. 

"Then why hasn't she accepted any of those proposals, Lady Lorraine?" He asked. 

She rolled her eyes and turned her back, "I think you may already know the answer to that." 

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, EMMA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF MAMMON.

Admin Rosey: There is something about Mammon that draws people in - but I know that they can be a very fickle character down simply because they are so utterly unique unto themselves. I really enjoyed the application because of the way they were outlined so meticulously, providing the exact understanding of Mammon that I very much longed to see. There was a certain disdain that was interwoven into everything, from the plots to the prose to the dialogue. The apathy that seemed to be teeming on the surface of things was absolutely delicious to eat up.This application was a fun read and I simply cannot wait to see how you develop Mammon along the way! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma

Age | 23

Personal Pronouns | She / Her

Activity Level | Decently active, at least once a week if I can get  my shit together!!! Always making the effort to stick and get replies whenever available! ( At the moment I’m pretty available but things might change in a couple of months depending on work and etc ) 

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | Rosey is a Queen and was like hey look I did something sexy and I clicked and I gasped and I agreed, she did do something sexy. And then I said wow and the rest of the team also did like magic and I was shook. And here I am now applying for the sexy. 

IN CHARACTER

Character | MAMMON 

What drew you to this character? | 

There is something so raw about a demon birthed from nothing - they are the epitome of emptiness, their existence almost synonymous to a black hole which I find extremely fascinating. They are greed, they are consumption, they devour all, eating away at others in physical tangible methods. Perhaps it is their cruelty that is ultimately a big part of what fascinates me - untangling the web of what makes them tick is yet another facet. I’d love to explore their mind and uncover the inner workings of their feral being. Their gluttonous ways and conquest to swallow those around them whole is chaos at it’s finest. The danger that glints in their eyes and the attitude that exudes from them is everything I could ever desire in a character. They’re also really hot. I mean Noma Han though. 

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

& I EAT UNTIL ALL IS CONSUMED | Mammon is a fickle creature who thrives in pandemonium. They tread a questionable line of self indulgent anarchy. Their arms are extended like the angels in mockery, writing their own fanatical laws that no one else could truly understand. Their madness thrives in their mind - their motivation always geared toward their own personal satisfaction. But what if the scale was to tip? Perhaps someone or something will catch the gleam in their darkened eyes. What if they too could live for more than the tool that was once wielded by others. Long accustomed to opulent luxury and gluttonous sin, never had they batted an eye at the politics swirling within courts. Yet for someone as hungry as they, was such mundaneness enough? What if they were to crawl past the line of humdrum satisfaction. What if they dove deeper into their instability - their appetite always growling for more. In a dog eat dog world, they had always been the one to voraciously guzzle first. Enjoying what existed was mediocrity and they were far more than that. With sharpened razor teeth, they know they can bite off more. Nothing would be too much to chew, for eating and taking was what they did best. Take and take until there was nothing left, ambition spirals to the damned heavens itself. 

HOPE? WHAT A PECULIAR CURIOSITY |  Accustomed to eons past of old tales whispered in their name, there is something tedious of Mammon’s life. While they have long been accompanied by their gourmandizing, they too seek out a spark of new excitement. Their bones creak, their jaw snaps at the thought of a new conquest - a new game. Perhaps a pursuit that is unexpected by all others - especially of demon kind. They have seen much and heard much and curiosity is like temptation itself. They too wonder of things like hope - entertaining the concept. They do not understand it as they have long been an inhabitant of the same old Hell. Yet even they tilt their head in interest. What is this so-called thing of wonder that has kept civilizations afloat? And it is this same twisted intrigue that has left their lips parted in bemusement. Will they succumb to it’s enigmatic mystery? What shall become of the creature who begins to understand? 

MONARCH OF PILFERED GOLD | A thief with a stolen crown, it is hardly an understatement to say that Mammon’s a selfish bastard. Anything that caught their eye was plucked by their greedy fingers by the right of their own claim. The excitement that coursed through their being elicits an ecstasy like no other. They will never forget the seal of death against Morningstar himself, oh how delightful it had all been. The sweet taste of bloodied victory is ever so ripe and thus this addiction to capture the same sensation thrusts them forward to chase it all over again. It was never enough for a being like Mammon who was carved from hunger itself. The pupils of their eyes dilate, looking toward shinier prizes - bigger ones that would make tidal wave changes. In their proud arrogant veneer, they mark their target in the back of their mind. Names and faces never forgotten as they seek to take one treasure after another. And perhaps the thrill of the game is only ever more exciting when the opponent viewed them as an enemy. It fuels the maniacal cackles that rip through their throat because what is theirs will be theirs. It would only take a matter of time before they conquered again and again. After all they took down the King of Hell, at this point - what else couldn’t they take? More is more. 

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS & PLOTTING  EXPLORATIONS 

GABRIEL ;  HOW SWEET IT TASTES TO INCITE YOUR WRATH | I really love the potential between Gabriel and Mammon as there’s undeniable heated tension. With him, Mammon feels the very sensation they have long been addicted to. The palpable hatred that lurks beneath Gabriel’s eyes lures Mammon closer - curious to see what would happen if they pushed further and incited an infernal fire. Undoubtedly I can see this dynamic burgeon into something both intimate and unspoken. For Mammon it is their newest game, their newest thrill ride to feel something and be seen. They will not deny themselves of the attention and want to bear witness to Gabriel’s promise of their destruction. ( I’m also here to see the angst ) 

“Destroy me if you can, desire me if you can’t” - Mammon 

ROMILDA ;  FOR THIS ONE’S DEMISE SHALL BE DELICIOUS  | Mammon and Romilda appear to be playing some game of cat and mouse which offers for some spicy ideas. For Mammon, they remain closeby like a voyeur peering into the windows of another’s life - perhaps others would perceive it as a God complex. But it is not stemmed out of arrogance or superiority, rather just another form of amusement for a creature as bored as them. They follow at her feet to watch what will happen because she is interesting and they’re nosy and want to know more. Perhaps Romilda will get sick of it? Who knows! ( I could see them being lowkey kind of obnoxious to Romilda. ) 

“Tell me a story and I’ll give you a show.” - Mammon 

REVNA ;  COME CLOSER INTO THE DARKNESS O FRAGILE ONE | To Mammon, Revna is like the perfect three course meal - so deliciously melancholic and on the verge of hopelessness. They keep her around close to keep her entrenched in her misery. It is also like the finale of a play, they await to see what will snap and send her spiraling - an event that will certainly incite their wicked glee. But Mammon believes themself to be merciful, kind even - giving her a choice to do as she pleases. They just merely amplify what she already believes. And I can’t wait to play that out - this is pretty much a parasitic relationship except Revna gets nothing out of it really. ( They’re the world's shittiest therapist tbh ) 

“The closer to the edge you are, the grander and greater the fall.” - Mammon 

GADRIEL ;  KNEEL BEFORE MY FEET AND BEG FOR MERCY | Mammon has never forgotten the events that had unfolded, a sickly sensation that sticks to the guts of their stomach. It is both a disgrace and a dishonor to have ever allowed such a thing to have occurred. They are not one to bury the hatchet - rather they hold onto it with a grip. I would like to see Mammon and Gadriel perhaps duel once again, mayhaps to the death? If anything this too can make for some good drama. Maybe Mammon will make a friend - or just die, anythings possible! ( They’re in denial that they’re kinda pressed and acting like it’s no big deal but you know deep down it's a big deal ) 

“An outcome must be decided; to the victor go the spoils.” - Mammon

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes! But I would also think it’s funny if people keep trying to kill them and they just come back like, bitch you thought. Just imagine the meme potential. 

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

AND IT BEGINS ( THE ORIGINS OF IDENTITY ) 

Largely much of Mammon’s natural instincts seems to center around the concept of “hollowness” or “emptiness” and in turn, it would be likely that they would like to share this void sensation of others, a cruel goal but for them - it is merely how they live. Perhaps another reason to pull others into their sphere of vacancy is the twisted amusement of watching others suffer. They are wicked and have never denied it so, and to share in such pain only feeds into their own warped sense of pleasure and indulgence. However even so, their identity remains a translucent nonlinear jumble of messes, one that they do not wholly understand and seek to untangle. Simply put, they are beyond unusual, strange even and given their long years of existence, have become bored of routine.

THE CHANGE ( A NEW GAME ) 

 And upon a frivolous whim, maybe they shall change it - or not, for they are as volatile as a child. But should change come, perhaps this will force them to act differently from the habits they have long been accustomed to. However, perhaps there is potential within their sinful avaricious vice to fall even deeper into the pitfall of hell. They have always been greedy in their collection of treasures. And surely objects have immense value but what if Mammon were to take it a step further? Breaking past the limits of inanimate items, their eyes may be set on an ever steeper goal. Their nurtured sadism bears fruit to cruel intentions; maybe it's time to take from the essence of humanity itself. It is people they wish to take from now; their hearts, their minds and even their souls. 

DANCING TO THE FINALE ( BOPPING TO NIGHTMARES ) 

They want to carve out the creature that breathes their sweet drink of life. Through veiled grins and snide chuckles, they seek to pull the strings of those they deem of inconsequential value. Upon invisible puppet strings, Mammon will play until they tire once more. For it is all just a game to someone who’s never truly ever had a reason to care. ( Born in the void, they become just as senseless the place they call home - it is a cold cavity that is all they have known. ) They live in their own world of selfishness and conceit, the world just a playground for devils to play. So they shall dance in the dark, picking one human target to another, rejoicing in the cries of anguish. And when the song shall end and the old rickety monster becomes exhausted, they will crack their wrists. It is then they will break the fools until there is nothing left. Again and again the routine shall be repeated. Because Mammon hardly understood life in itself; only ever the depths of shadows and death. 

Every word of hope and moral goodness consumed until by the black tar tongued of hell’s devil; and that is when the being is slaughtered, becoming just a husk of what they once were.  

ABRIDGED : Ok so like to sum up, Mammon’s just a big asshole and just wants to screw up other people because they’re mainly 1. Bored and 2. Why the hell not it’ll be funny. 3. Collecting trash is their hobby. They’re so self absorbed in themselves that I feel like in order for Mammon to be pushed toward some outside motivation would require them to either 1. Get friends or 2. To give a fuck about someone else ( to care - WOW ) But as of the moment any sort of motivation or goal just stems from their own wants or needs which rules above all else. They don’t want much in life at the moment besides hoarding, stealing, taking new shit and playing fake God if they can. Or just be that third person ominous narrator that’s super unhelpful but is there to give unnecessary input. Demons gotta do something to pass the time, right? 

Character Traits | 

Positive Traits 

Observant ; They have long had sharp pointed eyes - ones that watched the slightest ticks upon a visage, the subtlest movements of one’s gestures, the rhythm of footsteps of others. Mammon is a particular being who has long been watchful with a gaze that is both frightening as it is dangerous. But it is through their observations that fan the flames of mania. They play their games regardless of their opponent, their whims self serving first. 

Strategic ; A good player must learn the ins and outs of any game and it is one of the first things that Mammon has long gravitated towards. They pick their wars keenly, sometimes even merely satisfied with the knowledge that things shall work as they had planned. Execution is what they have done best and it takes more than sheer luck and power to finesses such precision. 

Clever ; Far from a moron, Mammon has always prided themselves in their intellect. However, exercising such wit often was a choice rather than a given. For the gluttonous demon celebrated their flaws far more than any of their redemptions. Only in dire circumstances would they ever apply themselves with the extra effort of thinking. Perhaps when a worthy enough challenge came along its merry way, they would finally exert their mind once more. 

Negative Traits 

Rapacity ; Mammon has always had a large appetite for intemperance. Both physical and metaphorical, they celebrate in the excess. The more they devour, the more satisfied they become. To them, boundaries are just suggestions. Their overwhelming need to take everything from everyone fuels them to function. Nothing could ever be enough. More was always better, and they live by these words on a daily basis. 

Sadistic ; They enjoy the thrill of crawling under the skin of both friends and foes. It is amusing to watch souls tortured and in pain, the sound of shrieks and cries are like trumpets to their ears. They rejoice in the reactions, cackle in the face of desperate pleas - they have long been accustomed to cruelty. Perhaps it is the infliction of pain that they themselves can understand human emotions; something so strange and foreign. For they themselves have long lived null and empty. 

Manipulative ; Silver tongued and clawed finger tips, Mammon is shrewd in their approach and sly in their tactics. They enjoy digging beneath the surface of what is seen and plucking out the weakest part of a flawed creation. Behind a face that may mask friendliness lies a sinister creature full of mischief and mayhem. They speak with lies, wearing deceit as their second nature. The craze they exude glints beneath the murky tar colored eyes. 

In-Character Para Sample  | 

EXCERPT 01: LUCIFERS FINALE. 

WHEN SINNERS FALL, DEMONS SHALL RISE

T R I G G E R - W A R N I N G : Implications of Violence, Death / Murder  

Morningstar, the king of Hell, how arrogantly he sits upon the throne of bones and emptied carcasses. His face is marred with arrogance; of kingly conceit that is forged from his own inflamed hubris. How pompous Lucifer appears - but perhaps it is the lens that Mammon perceives that weaves the tale which whispers of their questionable truth. 

But rewind -- it begins from the beginning. The one object that sat like an artificial halo atop Lucifer’s head; oh glory to the shiniest trophy of them all. It was all they ever wanted, clenched fists with fingers dug deep into their palms. Such a beautiful crown wasted on the being they thought most undeserving. 

Mammon had arrived late, birthed in the pits only then. They were nothing but a speck in the universe. Thus they knew, to be worthy of such a precious coronet, they needed to become something. Someone. Their worth must be equal to the item they wished to pursue - or so they once believed. 

And so the fateful day came and Mammon strolled within the gates. Head held high, arms swung side to side as their eyes followed the audience. From one head to another - oh the looks of dissatisfaction restrained at the edges of the crowd’s ugly visages. Mammon sensed it, felt the dissent looming through the room - like fog itself, murmurs could be heard throughout. But all of them were cowards, their heads still bowed lowly before the demon king himself. 

They greet the false King, a cockiness in their stride as they stand with informality, a grin crawling up their knife like features. There is a nonchalance in their posture, an indifference that seemed to agitate his royal hellness. 

“I have returned,” the voice thickened and dark. 

Mammon sees the rage, understands the ticking bomb that lies behind the devil’s veneer. But they did what they did best - they poked and prodded. 

“The world is a pleasurable place beyond the frigid walls of this palace. It seems that you have been forgotten, your name abandoned, forsaken,” Mammon sighs - their pupils never moving an inch away from the Morningstar’s head. 

“I suppose your ‘greatness�� is nothing compared to the man residing upstairs,” they mocked. 

Lucifer is silent but his cool rage could be felt. The stillness that fell could stop time itself. It was then he stood, fingers gripped at the arms of his wretched throne. His voice is a hiss, fueled with laughable jealousy. Words that only Satan himself could ever conjure slithered between the flaps of whatever made his mouth. 

But Mammon remained themself. Unflinching as they awaited - beckoned the fury to light brighter and brighter. They took a step, accepting a dare with the fates. And it was then that they had crossed the line, the servants of Morningstar thrusting them upon their knees. 

They had trekked into uncharted territory - detonating the wrath of the top Devil. A small smile appeared on their face. It was all a joke. But the glee that curdled through their rickety bones brought forth the satisfaction they had gambled for. How sweet was the taste of Lucifer’s anger and jealousy - they could eat up more -for it was aromatically delicious. 

The pits of Tartarus were nothing for a creature like them. They would claw their way out as they had done once before. How amusing it all was, they had stepped on the toes of a ‘supposed king’ who’s envy entrapped him. It was confirmed in that moment that Mammon who had wandered the planes with a trail ablazing, they had become something more. They left once but they’d swore they’d come back for more.

A KING NO MORE 

And so they returned. Indifference worn upon the husk humans called a face. Their decision never came from a place of justice or hatred. No, it was the one fixation that they had long desired. And the only way for them to ever get such a prized possession was to chop it from the head of the wearer. 

It was a merry day for a remorseless killer. 

They spun to the tune that played in their head - the haunting whistle that made their feet tap to a jig. It was the mighty king of hell’s turn to have a taste of damnation. Perhaps somewhere the Angels would have sung for Mammon's praise. But whether the pasty holier than thou freaks did or didn’t, they didn’t give a fuck. 

Mammon wanted what they wanted. Blade in the grasp tightly, exposing the whites of their knuckles. Today was the day to claim their very first love. ( Love? Obsesion? No, it was just another whim, another aimless desire. ) 

Swiftly they cut, quickly they shredded. It wasn’t long before the Morningstar was beheaded. 

In the bloody mess of whatever made the black hearted creature, Mamon ripped the crown from his head. Their fingertips stained with the colors of death, they place the object upon their own head. In the reflection of the glassy floor - they bear a smile, teeth exposed to show their mephistophelian smile. 

And yet the feeling is fleeting - as it always was. They had come and conquered but it was never really enough. The agenda was completed and their excitement gone. They looked at themselves once more, the grin fading. Their fingers gripped the item and threw it on the dirtied ground. 

A sigh of exasperation exited their lips, their back turned as they walked away. Onlookers bowed before them but they did not care. They had their fun and as routine, it was time for Mammon to find a new toy to play with. But before they vanished from sight as they were long accustomed to, they glanced back once more. An itch to feel the euphoric sensations that rattled their ribcage and howled beneath their flesh. 

Alas. 

It was just another fucking crown.

____________________________________________________________________________________

EXCERPT 02: THE UNKNOWN. 

IN MY PRESENCE, ANGELS SCREAM

It was him that they found a fascination like no other, an unsettling sensation that felt akin to perhaps what the humans may call alive. Mammon lurks within the shadows - not to close, just enough to see them. Enough to feel something within that jostled, reminiscent of a beastly heart. 

“I know you’re there.” He blinds like the sun. 

Mammon says nothing. 

It is then that Gabriel makes his approach. Oh glory to a walking God. Each step ringing like the bells of divine retribution. But Mammon does not waver, nor do they run. They welcome it, their lips curling at the corners. 

“I am here oh sweet fair haired angel,” their words spiteful. “Vanquish me if you truly dare.” It is then that they too walk into the light. They should have burned. But darkness consumes all, absorbs all and takes all. 

Gabriel does not speak. But his gaze does not fall. 

LOVE AND HATRED ARE SAME SIDES OF PASSION

It is Mammon's turn to take the stage and so they do. They walk closer, enough to taunt the other. They delighted in the seething temper that boiled beneath. His hatred was like no other; he bears witness to Mammon’s full depravity. It is Gabriel who seems to understand the monstrosity of what they are. And it is in this fragile perverted supposed understanding that pulls Mammon closer. 

“You have cultivated your sainthood, your goodness,” Mammon remarks. “But isn’t that your purpose? The will of accursed God all too shitty. But you see Gabriel - I am like you too. It is just merely a difference in … design,” words hissed with pitch black mirth. 

Their finger is pointed at them. 

“For you, they strove for righteousness.” 

“They gave you light. Nurtured you with warmth.”

“Your existence was a predestined fortune.” 

There is ridicule dripping from their words. No bitterness, no care - just vacant rambles and little thought - a pretend of emotion conducted for theatrics. They raise their arms to the sky, their middle fingers pointed. 

“But I was made as an omen, an example of all things terrible.”

Their arms dropped as their focus returned to one of God’s original favorites.

“They made me hungry.”

“They made me wretched.”

“For all the love and praise you fucking angels sing, how imperious for your kind to judge.” 

Mammon closes the distance, their mouth upturned like a risen half moon. 

“Doesn’t it pain you to know that our fallen creator had us all cut from the same cloth? Despise me should you wish but do not deny that even you, pure and good, harbor something as foul as hatred.” They laugh - cacophonic delirious cackles of a madman facing death. 

Mammon stops - in the quietness their head tilts, a sneer pulling at their lip. 

“Kill me if you choose but it’ll make you no better than the Devil.”  

____________________________________________________________________________________

Extras | 

HEAD CANNONS 

WINGS : I’ve always imagined that Mammon would have wiry or metal looking wings? Like it would be sharp and mimic spare parts or just trash, almost as if they had made their wings by hand. I’m specifically picturing the creepy hand from the “Other Mother” in Coraline but imagine the material as wings ( reference here ) 

FOODIE : I think it would be funny that they’re somewhat of a fancy connoisseur of food. Well food and perhaps anything else that they can put in their mouth. I feel like their standards of what can be eaten really is at a low bar. They would be down to just chew on some dirt and be like “wow the flavor in this silt soil can not be compared to clay.” Seems like the type of thing Mammon would be into. Probably would overshare and even attempt to encourage others to try whatever the hell they’ve decided to swallow that day. 

TRENDSETTER : Given that Mammon likes to take a lot of shit and probably has the attention span of a child, I don’t think they’d be wearing the same outfit on repeat ever. I also feel like they’d be the type to put on a plastic bag and then call it high fashion and maybe people would believe them? Or not - I mean the choice is simple, nod or choose death I suppose. I also see them being a big fan of sunglasses just to be dramatic when they toss it off to really emphasize how crazy and fucking wild they truly are. Also I could see them just being dramatic for no good reason with a little bit of a flair for theatrics. 

WEAPON: Perhaps Mammon’s weapon of choice would be akin to something that looks like a Scythe? Or maybe they’re the type that would keep a handful of sharp blades on them, I could definitely imagine them playing with a butterfly knife and doing tricks with it since they’ve had hours upon hours to learn and fuck around. I could also see them picking up other people’s weapons and going like “well that's nice, going to add it to my collection. This one would be great for some good old stabbing.” 

MUSIC : Despite being kind of a silent type, Mammon secretly is the type to be into a lot of music??? Especially when they’re doing some dirty business or like kicking someone for being a buckethead, I could imagine them jamming to some sweet tunes while doing the ass kicking. Maybe they’ll whistle too. Here’s a scene from American Psycho whis is the inspiration I got behind this ( reference here // trigger warning: murder + violence + blood ) 

OTHERS

PINTEREST |  MOCKBLOG 

ENDNOTE: Thank you for reading through my application! Just wanted to say that you guys did such a great job with the roleplay. Whether I’m accepted or not, I had a lot of fun writing this & exploring the character so thank you! ♥

[annabethsgodcomplex]

I’m not at my most sane right now so forgive me if I start babbling about nonsense but like I’m having an intense urge to share how much I hate math for no reason. So like I was bored in math one day and my friend (he got five words banned from science) was sitting next to me and drawing well you know that thing teenage boys draw when they want to be idiots but they’re idiots like all the time (I don’t want to say it so I hope that made slight sense) anyway I started drawing a stick figure and it looked evil so I drew like a present box with a label that said: problems (not a good gift idea).

I then gave the drawing a title that said: math as a person. My friend looked over and started laughing his head off. So another of my friends looked at what I was drawing and laughed too and soon all of us were laughing. (I’m normally the responsible one because I have to be because the rest of them are boys who can’t do anything responsibly so I’m the mother of the group). Anyway our math teacher still doesn’t know why we were laughing.

My point with all that is that I hate math because it’s basically a subject with imaginary people with weird ass problems and I’m supposed to play therapist. I’d be a terrible therapist. I don’t have the best mental state and I’m weird as hell but that’s beside the point. The scenarios are weird and unrealistic and to solve them we have to use inconvenient methods and show proof we’ve followed those methods. It’s stupid.

Basic math is ok I use it a lot so I don’t mind it but the rest of it is just stupid. It gets harder and harder and it makes me so annoyed. There is almost always a simpler way but if we use it to save time and get the correct answer we don’t have the proof that we used their method because we didn’t. We’re expected to follow the system without trying other ways. When faced with problems in real life there are usually other choices we can make but in math they are controlling us. We have no choice if we want to pass and if we don’t pass we’re made to feel like we are stupid and worthless. I could go on but I won’t because this is really long. Anyway I hate math.