#tired and resigned but still committed

[azrakaban]

It's on your nose - Theodore Nott

Summary: baking with Theodore turns messy... I wish you luck

Warnings: none, just a short fluff tbh

CONTAINS FRIENDS SPOILER!

...

"COME ONNNN!" 

"No!"

"Pleeeease? Otherwise you can't copy my charms notes."

"y/n, you copy my notes, not the other way around."

"Technicalities. GET UP!" 

"OKAY NOT FAIR." 

"It could have been icy cold water!" 

"Right, so I'm supposed to be thankful that you only decided to spray me with cold water rather than pure ice?" 

"Yes. Get up." 

"Fine." 

Theodore finally got out of his bed, giving you a faintly annoyed look. "I'm up, what now?" 

"Come with me!" 

You grabbed his hand and pulled a hoodie over his head, grabbing one for yourself as well. Grabbing his hand again you ran out of the room, dragging him behind you. He reluctantly let you pull him, until you let go of his hand. 

"Hey! Not okay yn." 

"What?"

He ran to catch up with you, shaking his head and tutting as he reached you. 

"Don't you dare drop my hand again love. There's no-one here but us, but it's good to know I've still got you."

You smiled back athim, a faint blush coating your cheeks, before turning back and running onwards.

You felt yourself get pulled back, and you stopped running. You turned and rolled your eyes at your boyfriend.

"I love you but it's 2am. I'm not running." He said, giving you an 'are you serious' look?

You continued to drag him, no longer running but speed walking. You heard his sigh of resignation as he fell into step, walking behind you.

Eventually the two of you reached the kitchens and entered, the house elves rushing over to you to greet you.

"Miss yn! Mr Nott..." Came a voice from around about your knees. Looking down you noticed Dobby and Kreacher, glaring at each other but giving wide smiles for you. Well, in kreachers case, a less miserable look than usual but still kind.

"May we help you, miss?" Kreacher said, his voice sounding tired.

"Not exactly Kreacher. How many different kitchen areas are there here and are any free?" You asked, smiling at the two elves.

"KITCHEN EIGHT IS FREE!" Both elves said loudly. They both turned and glared at each other.

"I was going to tell her!" "NO I WAS!" They were like two children vying for their parents attention. You laughed and thanked them before dragging Theodore to the kitchen.

You pushed him into a chair at the counter and started grabbing ingredients out of the cupboards. Music started playing, suited to your personal taste.

"okay whaaaat are you doing?" He asked, seeming wary and slightly curious.

"Committing arson. what does it look like? Getting ingredients!" you said, laughing.

"I got that, but what for?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. (very proud that I can do this icl)

"Cookies, duh, did you not see the chips?" you said, giving him a questioning look.

"You woke me up... at 1am... so that you could bake cookies?" he asked, looking incredulous.

"I think you mean we, but sure. DAMN, how do the house elves reach these things?" you said, reaching up for flour. You stretched on your tiptoes , attempting to reach it.

Giving up, you turned and look at Theodore, who shook his head.

"I am not helping you with this. it was your idea."

You sighed, turning back to the cupboards before climbing onto the counter and kneeling to get the flour.

You felt two hands grab your waist and lift you down onto the ground. Looking up, you watched as Theodore reached up and grabbed the flour, giving you a defeated look.

"Fine. But only because this seems to mean something to you." he said, turning back to the island and grabbing scales out of a drawer.

The two of you worked in silence, his hand occasionally intertwining with yours and squeezing before he had to retract it to pour in ingredients.

Eventually the dough was spooned out onto trays and in the oven. Two arms circled your waist and you were spun around, met by lips.

Theodore's hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer to him.

Eventually, he broke the kiss and pulled you into him, your face pressed against his chest. You felt his lips meet your hair and smiled, pulling back to look at him.

A small smile rested on his lips. "There's still some dough in the bowl. Want to eat it?" He said, nodding at the bowl.

You stared at him for a second. "Oh my god I love you." You said. (picture when Chandler tells Monica he loves her for the first time when she's wearing the turkey)

He laughed. "I know. I think we've established that I feel the same way."

"Really? Have we now?" You said, teasing him.

"Yes. Who else would actually get out of bed for his girlfriend at this time unless it was urgent?" He questioned, holding the bowl and scooping the extra dough into a ball.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe Draco or Matt-"

A chunk of cookie dough was shoved in your mouth.

"Don't finish that sentence Darling, you've made your point." He said, creating another small ball of dough and putting it in his mouth.

Your tongue was instantly jealous of the dough. (I'M SORRY 💀)

You finished chewing and swallowed the dough. You looked at Theodore, who was looking away from you at the door. His eyes flicked back to you and he swiftly exhaled, laughing lightly.

"What?" You said, looking at him questioningly.

He leaned in and kissed your nose.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." He said, smiling at you.

"Oh really? Tell me or I reveal that you're ticklish on your waist to the others." you said, fingers wiggling and outstretched to him.

"OKAY OKAY! you're despicable, but you had cookie dough on your nose. not anymore though." He said, grabbing your hands in his.

"Well thanks for helping me then." you said, smiling. One of your favourite songs came on and you jumped excitedly.

"I love this song, dance with me!" You said, pulling him into an open area.

Your arms went around his neck and his cradled your waist.

We're dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light...

Theodore spun you around, before pulling you back to him and resting his chin on your head. 

"I love you." He whispered into your hair, before dipping his head down and nudging your lips to his.

You both kissed for a while, content where you were before the timer went off for the cookies. He pulled them out of the oven, setting them on the counter to cool.

While you waited, you grabbed his hand and fiddled with his fingers, letting his eyes follow you.

They finally cooled down enough to eat, and you slid them onto plates.

Taking a bite, you sighed at how they tasted.

"I don't know what it is, but 2am cookies hit different."

His eyebrow rose again. "Have you done this before then?"

"No, but they taste better than normal ones." you said, smiling.

He sighed and pulled you close to him, his cookie already gone and swallowed.

He wiped his fingers off on some kitchen roll, getting the stickiness from the cookies off his hands. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, drawing patterns on your back.

"I surprisingly don't regret this. But I miss my cookie. It was good chocolate in them."

"Well, that's good. you've still got some." you said.

"Where?" He said.

"Well Theo, it's on your nose."

...

Later after packing up the ingredients and putting them away, piling the cookies into a Tupperware, you returned to Theo's dorm.

On the pillow lay two Polaroids. They showed you and Theodore dancing in the kitchen, foreheads rested against each other. A note was placed next to them, written in scrawling handwriting.

"Dobby and Kreacher wouldn't stop arguing over it, so I took these for you. -Winky"

You smiled before putting them on his bedside table and curling up next to your boyfriend. You were tired.

...

I'm sorry for the all too well reference, they're not breaking up I just thought of it!

I wrote this late so excuse me if it needs editing. love you all!

[defectivevillain]

whispers in the night

pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns used.

summary: When you can't fall asleep, you stumble out to the common room to get a snack—only to find Shinsou on the couch, similarly restless. After a moment's contemplation, you sit down next to him and the two of you share a quiet night in.

word count: 1.9k | ao3 version

warnings: exhaustion, fatigue, insomnia

You can’t fall asleep. 

Despite how incredibly busy your day has been—what with classes, sparring, and Quirk training—you’re still left staring up at the ceiling in frustration as you attempt to go to bed. You’ve had your eyes closed for roughly an hour or so, but you haven’t fallen asleep. Gritting your teeth, you decide to get up and grab something to eat. You’re not even sure if that little trick will help you fall asleep, but at this point, you’re desperate. As you quietly walk through the halls and into the common room, you’re surprised to find that someone else is also awake. You’re less surprised when you see Shinsou sitting on the couch, looking down at his phone.

“You look like a raccoon,” Shinsou says in lieu of a greeting. You point to the dark circles under your eyes and he nods. You mumble some half-assed explanation about being tired, before deciding to reply honestly. 

“That’s ironic, coming from you,” you say jokingly. Shinsou evidently expects the remark, because he simply rolls his eyes. Distracted from grabbing a snack, you move to sit next to him. The couch is surprisingly comfortable, and there are decorative pillows thrown about the cushions that Momo created a bit ago. You grab one and hold it against your chest. 

“Well, dark circles are typical for me,” Shinsou remarks casually, with a sense of resigned defeat. You immediately sense what he’s implying. 

“I know,” you acknowledge. He’s absolutely right, of course. You’re just not sure why you’ve been so sleepless lately. You tell him as much. “I’ve just been restless.” 

Shinsou nods silently. Immediately, you feel guilty for bemoaning your lack of sleep, when Shinsou is hardly ever able to sleep. Yet here you are, complaining about the one time that you’re awake at night. An apology is on the tip of your tongue when Shinsou inexplicably leans close to you. He stretches and grabs the remote on the cushion next to you before returning his attention to the television in front of you. A familiar icon appears on the screen. 

“Is that Netflix?” You ask, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. The lack of Netflix on the common room television has been a sticking point for many of your fellow classmates. You can recall countless times in which Kaminari or Sero practically begged Present Mic and Aizawa to get a shared Netflix account for the class. Their pleas never went very far, though. “Holy shit, how’d you-”

“Stole Aizawa’s password.” You stare at Shinsou, whose eyes are locked on the screen ahead. He clicks on the remote a few times, evidently selecting the right letters for the username and password. Even as he does so, it takes you several moments to process just what he said. 

“You did not,” you say in disbelief. 

“I did,” Shinsou grins, clicking on the yellow profile with your teacher’s name under it. Aizawa’s home screen comes up and you can’t help but laugh incredulously. Shinsou’s lips twist ever so slightly—he’s evidently proud of himself—and he turns to you. “What do you want to watch?”

The two of you eventually decide to watch The Great British Bake Off, since you don’t quite want to commit to watching something serious. Besides, you’re half-expecting that at least one of you will fall asleep. Shinsou clicks on an episode and you lean back against the couch. The pillows are strewn about the floor now; you promise yourself you’ll pick them up later.

The baking show is rather entertaining, you have to admit. Shinsou seems to think so too, as he occasionally huffs or smiles ever so slightly. You find yourself torn between watching the television and, well, watching him. The first episode passes within no time at all. Shinsou plays the next one and, in a sudden burst of spontaneity, you lean your head against the edge of your cushion. You're dangerously close to resting on Shinsou’s shoulder, but you manage to keep the distance between you. 

You do notice, however, that Shinsou’s arm is hovering on the back of the couch. Once you realize that, the show is suddenly far less captivating. Your heart races as his hand falls further down the back of the couch. Blinking slowly, you turn your attention back to the program. Unfortunately, your fatigued body decides to entirely disobey you, and you feel yourself falling into Shinsou’s shoulder before you can contemplate the consequences. Thankfully, he doesn’t shove you off of him or anything. In fact, his arm falls from the back of the couch to rest around your shoulders. 

You feel yourself beginning to grow tired as time passes, but you desperately want to remain awake and keep Shinsou company. It must be terribly isolating to constantly be restless at nighttime. Despite these thoughts, however, it doesn’t take long for your eyes to slip closed. You’re in a bit of an awkward position and Shinsou’s shoulder digs into your neck. Suddenly, you’re tugged to the side and into a significantly more comfortable position. You blink your eyes open briefly, surprised to find that you’re now pulled against Shinsou’s chest. Before you can overanalyze that, however, you’re drifting off again. 

An immeasurable amount of time later, you're roused from slumber and lightly jostled. You feel an arm supporting your back and another under your legs. Is someone... carrying you? You try to open your eyes, but your eyelids are stinging and you soon forget to resist sleep. 

The next time you wake, you find your phone alarm blaring extremely loudly. Groaning, you grab it and try to hit the snooze button. Unfortunately, it’s a bit too late for you to go back to sleep—the sheer volume of the alarm has entirely roused you from slumber. You sigh and push yourself up into a sitting position, electing to scroll through things on your phone for a few minutes. You grab your blanket and tug it up further, feeling chilly all of a sudden.

…Wait a second. Didn’t you fall asleep in the common room last night? You bite your lip and try to remember what happened. Sure enough, you went to the common room and watched TV with Shinsou. You look down at your blanket and frown. How did you end up back in your room? You definitely didn’t walk back. You try to recall the events of the last night, only to freeze upon remembering your short time awake. Someone had been carrying you. 

You’re suddenly immensely grateful that you don’t have a fire Quirk, otherwise your room would be entirely doused in flames. As it is, your heart is pounding treacherously in your chest. You can’t help but think about Shinsou’s arms around your back and legs, the ease with which he lifted you... 

Safe to say, you’re sufficiently frazzled for the rest of the morning. You scramble through your typical routine and grab a quick snack before deciding to go to class a bit early. Surprisingly, you’re far from the only one there. Iida is present, of course. Kirishima, Jirou, and Shinsou are all in their seats too. You greet everyone and walk over to your desk.

“How’d you sleep last night?” Kirishima asks once you sit down. He’s just so sweet. You’d been talking to him yesterday about your trouble sleeping, after all. You’re touched by his concern, of course, but his question immediately provokes what you’d been trying to forget—Shinsou carrying you back to your dorm.

“Oh, um, I slept well,” you choke out, feeling extremely flustered. You suddenly want the ground to swallow you whole. Feeling eyes on you, you turn to find Shinsou staring at you. The satisfied gleam in his eyes confirms your suspicions from before. You take a deep breath and turn back to Kirishima, getting lost in casual conversation. 

Throughout the rest of class, you feel Shinsou’s gaze burning into the back of your head. When the bell finally rings, signaling the end of the period, you sidle up to him and the two of you walk out of the room together. It’s lunchtime now, but neither of you are moving towards the cafeteria with any modicum of speed. Eventually, all of your classmates pass by and Shinsou and you are left alone in the hallway. 

“You didn’t have to carry me back,” you eventually say, once the tense silence between you grows to be unbearable. You can’t help but notice the furrow to Shinsou’s brows—a clear sign that he’s avoiding an answer. 

For a long moment, he is entirely silent. You decide to wait for Shinsou to explain. When he finally does break his silence, he says something entirely unexpected. “What if I wanted to?”

“What?” You ask, convinced you misheard him. 

“I... wanted to,” Shinsou repeats, significantly quieter this time. You blink at him a few times. Somehow, it’s still taking you a while to process just what he’s saying. When you finally comprehend his statement, your eyes widen and you stare at him in thinly-veiled surprise. 

“Oh,” you remark dumbly. “Well... thanks.” Maybe I should lose sleep and come out to the common room more often, you think to yourself. 

“Maybe you should,” Shinsou responds. It takes you several moments to realize that your last remark was voiced aloud and you suddenly feel like melting into an embarrassed puddle on the ground. But the expression on Shinsou’s face is nothing short of complete sincerity—coupled with an attractive confidence that you know to be a result of his extensive sparring sessions with Aizawa. 

“Maybe I will,” you say with a small smile. 

That night, you will venture out to the common room once more. Shinsou will be resting on the couch again and you’ll take your place beside him, before grabbing the remote and scrolling through Netflix. The two of you will stumble upon the account’s history and laugh at the shows Aizawa seems to enjoy, before choosing one to watch. This time, your head will fall on Shinsou’s shoulder much sooner; this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder without hesitation. You’ll admit in murmurs that you enjoy spending time with him, and he’ll echo the sentiment. For a quick yet seemingly endless stretch of time, the two of you will sit in silence. Then, possessed by some otherworldly courage, you will lean close and ask to kiss him—only for him to meet you halfway and make the first move. 

Then, since the both of you have horrible luck, Aizawa will walk in and interrupt you. You will try to break apart, but it’ll be too late. For a long moment, your teacher will study the both of you, before an unimpressed expression appears on his face and he mentions that he got a notification that someone was using his Netflix account. Shinsou will try to play dumb—and you’ll remain silent, out of fear for your life—before Aizawa, knowing when to give in, huffs and bids you both a good night.

But right now it’s lunchtime, and all the words you want to say feel trapped under your tongue. And before you can summon the courage to even begin telling Shinsou just what he means to you, Kaminari appears out of nowhere and slings his arms around you both. The moment between Shinsou and you is temporarily broken, but you smile with the knowledge that you’ll reunite with him in the quiet night once more.

thanks for reading! <3

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general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

[niningtori]

let me into your world | chapter three: our world

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you're single again and choi beomgyu is restless.

genre(s): romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?), soulmate au

word count: 3.3k

notes: hi........ yeah i'm super fucking impatient and literally could not wait to post part 3 NENJWKWKDOE i'm sorry! anyway idk how i feel about this but i'm tired of looking at it so i hope it's likable! also, this chapter is extremely suggestive so be warned. there's nothing explicit, but i'm still freaked out. see ending for more notes!

you do nothing but think of him. you thought your heart was done breaking after beomgyu, but you realize even without the matching seal, your heart was still with soobin. 4 years of love and commitment over and done because of a fucking tattoo. you're tempted to continue wearing your ring to work because you dread the questions that will almost certainly follow. you haven't told a soul - not even sumin - about what happened. what were you supposed to say? the love of my life didn't want me... again?

you entertain the idea of keeping it on to maintain appearances, but the mere sight of it is enough to put a pit in your stomach, so you keep it in the drawer in your nightstand. it's close enough to your bed to take out at night just to do nothing but stare and fiddle with it between your fingers. you remember the night he put it on you. you remember him promising you forever and the sweet loving that followed. you remember every word, every touch, every feeling.

you wonder if he's happy with her, but you know he must be. you two were happy enough as it was - you can't even imagine how happy he must be with the person who was fated for him. you feel envious of a woman you don't even know. what you wouldn't give to have that green seal printed on your wrist. you feel sick just thinking about it.

"you alright?" a voice snaps you back into reality. your coworker, minjun. he's cute, very cute, but you've always been committed to soobin so you've never really noticed before now. you had eyes, of course, but you've kept them trained on soobin for years now. you suppose that dedication was futile.

"uh, yeah. i'm good," you reply while hastily shoving your ringless hand under your desk. he eyes you suspiciously before dropping the subject.

"are you planning on going to the company retreat?"

"what? oh, yeah. i guess," you say, still somewhat distracted. your company is planning a retreat to celebrate the success of combining branches. you don't really want to go, but you can't stand the thought of sitting at home and waiting around for someone who will never come back. "are you going?" you ask, trying to actually engage in the conversation for fear of coming across as rude, but you don't quite catch his next words.

"i'm going if you're going," he says.

"what? sorry, i'm a little out of it," you smile.

"i said i —"

"can someone help me?" beomgyu cuts in from out of nowhere. "the copy machine isn't working for some reason."

"can it wait? we're having a conversation," minjun replies irritatedly.

"it can't. i really need to make some copies," beomgyu says urgently.

"fine, i'll help you," minjun grumbles. you're relieved that he's stepping up because you certainly don't want to.

"actually, i just remembered that sooyoung wants to see you in her office."

"what?"

"yeah, so i guess you can't help me after all," beomgyu says with a smirk you don't understand.

"i'll help you," you sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. beomgyu smiles triumphantly, but you don't see it because you're already heading towards the copy room.

"what's the issue here? everything looks fine to me," you say confusedly.

"where's your ring?" he asks, seemingly harmlessly, but it stings just to hear. you immediately forget about your question to him as you shut the machine and defensively cross your arms, feeling incredibly vulnerable.

"i'm getting it resized," you cough.

"ah, okay," he says, and it's like he sees right through you. "you have lost weight recently. are you eating enough?" your eyebrows furrow at this. yeah, you've lost weight only because you're so fucking depressed eating genuinely seems like a chore. more importantly, why does he know that? and more importantly than that, why does he care?

"why do you —"

"turns out sooyoung didn't need me," minjun cuts in, nearly bursting from the door.

"mmm, i must've been mistaken," beomgyu shrugs nonchalantly. you sense tension, but you can't fathom why.

"did you get the copier fixed?" minjun asks, completely ignoring beomgyu.

"we fixed it, yes," beomgyu says before you can even open your mouth.

"oh. good."

"yeah, she really helped me out," beomgyu says, not without snark. why is he lying? never mind, actually. you don't have the energy to care.

-

beomgyu can't feel your joy for once, which should make him feel relieved, in theory, but instead there's an incessant gnawing at his heart. all he wants to ask is why, why, why. and what can he do to help? he doesn't have to wonder why for much longer when he sees you walk into work without your ring on. he doesn't mean to notice it, but his eyes always gravitate to the rock on your ring finger, almost like it's taunting him with what he can't have.

he'd be an even bigger liar than he already is if he said he didn't feel some sick sense of satisfaction knowing it didn't work out with you and soobin. this is what happens when you go against fate, he thinks. the thought alone used to scare him, but he's felt what it's like to try to be with people other than you and he knows going against fate just isn't in the cards for him anymore. he tried pretty much everything after you, from casual flings to would-be serious relationships, but nothing panned out the way he wished it would.

he continues to try to worm his way into your life in the little ways. he gives you updates on bands you used to bond over and he mentions jokes you two used to share. he brings you coffee when you're tired and tries to make you laugh. he slowly but surely chips away at your indifference until you unconsciously become dependent on him. he wants his presence to be felt by you, just for him to become a little bit meaningful to you, is that really too much to ask?

the first time you actually smile for him, really smile, for the first time since he hurt you, he almost cries. as cheesy as it may seem, he honestly was unsure you'd ever show it to him again. the smile is over almost as soon as it begins, but he'll take it. he thought he'd take anything you'd give him at this point, but the hunger he has is insatiable. he starts from wanting a smile to wanting every smile. he wants to monopolize your joy, your time, you. maybe he's moving too fast, but he decides he'll tell you just how lonely he's been without you during your company retreat. it hasn't been very long since your breakup with soobin, but he won't sit idly by waiting for you to get snatched up again. no way in hell is he gonna let that happen in front of his nose again. not this time.

-

the company retreat is full of icebreakers, which is to be expected, but the cool thing is that the bar is open, though it's not an "open bar". either way, you're going to try your best to get plastered as soon as humanly possible. you want to, but beomgyu is constantly on your ass, monitoring every move you make, so it's hard to even get to the point of almost tipsy. you give up after two drinks and you're not even buzzed.

you want to hang around danbi, but she's currently zeroed in on beomgyu, which is a good thing because it means he can't hang around you as much. minjun makes for really good company, though, and before long, you two are off in your own world. you didn't realize how funny he is before tonight. he hints at maybe taking you out some time, but you can't say yes without knowing about his soulmate first. he tugs on the collar of his shirt and reveals an ornate golden seal on his collarbone. it's a beautiful contrast on his gorgeous skin, and your breath catches for a second when he shows it to you.

"pretty, right? i thought so too. my soulmate doesn't want me, though," he laughs softly.

"i understand how you feel," you say.

"so soobin...?"

"is not my soulmate, but he doesn't want me anymore, either." you don't know why you're telling him this, but he's being vulnerable with you and you feel a sense of camaraderie you haven't felt in a long while.

"i'm sorry. i know it's hard, but i can't imagine anyone not wanting you."

"really?"

"i'm serious, if i were your soulmate i'd never let go."

"that's sweet of you," you blush.

"even if you weren't my soulmate, i still wouldn't let go." you still at that. you honestly didn't think you'd ever hear those words again, much less believe them, but he seems to be incredibly sincere. so when his lips come closer and closer, you're prepared to let it happen. you don't know minjun that well, but who's to say you can't? here's a beautiful man who says he wouldn't let you go. it feels nice to be wanted for once, and by someone who's already tried and failed with their soulmate. who knows what could happen? you close your eyes and wait for his plush lips to meet yours, but they never do.

"minjun! sooyoung wants you!" beomgyu shouts while hustling over to you.

"shit. some other time, maybe?" minjun says, face flushed.

"definitely," you giggle. minjun gets up as if it's the last thing he wants to do, and you smile as he stretches his hand out and helps you up. none of these actions escape beomgyu. you watch as his silhouette gradually gets smaller and smaller as he heads over to sooyoung.

"what did sooyoung want with minjun?" you ask beomgyu, trying to break the silence. you still feel a little high off of your almost kiss with minjun and you're not thinking 100% clearly.

"nothing, i just pulled that out of my ass," he shrugs.

"... so that was total bullshit? what the hell is wrong with you, beomgyu?"

"what's wrong with me? what's wrong with you?"

"what do you mean?"

"i mean, if i see you two flirting again, i'm reporting you both."

"you wouldn't."

"try me," he challenges, eyebrows raised with that godforsaken shit-eating grin you've come to loathe.

"beomgyu," you struggle to muster up a shred of composure, "can you stop trying to lord over my life?"

"is that what you think this is?" he scoffs. "you think I'm trying to control you?"

"what i think," you sigh while pinching the bridge of your nose, "is that you're being a dick and i can't deal with you right now."

"alright, if i'm not a dick, how else will i get you to talk to me?"

"i do," you begin incredulously, "i talk to you every day!"

"not in any way that matters."

"has it ever occurred to you that i don't want to talk about anything else?" you inhale and exhale shakily. "please stop before i get angry."

"i wish you would!"

"what?" you question and you can physically feel the frustration rising like steam in your chest, begging to be released. as if he's in a position to be making demands. as if you should listen to a single word that comes out of his fucking mouth.

"i wish you would get angry! swear at me, yell at me, hit me — i don't care! just give me something!" you stare. you're tempted to relent and release all of your anger. your face scrunches in irritation at the implication that you owe him a goddamn thing, but just as you're about to let go and let him have it, you remember who and where you are and think better of it.

"that's enough, beomgyu," you turn to make your way back to your room. you don't have time for this. "i really don't want to—" he grabs your hand and spins your retreating figure back towards him.

"just say something!" his eyebrows are knitted in concern and his words are riddled with desperation. your patience snaps.

"you want me to say something?! fine! i hate you! i hate you, i hate you, i hate you!" you stamp your feet. your eyes begin to feel sour and the corners of your lips tense into a frown. his eyes widen and his mouth hangs open as he searches your eyes for the something he's wishing so ardently for. it feels like he's looking straight through you, just like he always does, so you break away from his gaze and your eyes focus on some fixed point behind him.

"i hate you! you... i wish you'd leave me alone!"

your words are teeming with emotion, just not the ones you're trying so hard to convince him (and maybe yourself?) they are. you look so vulnerable, so small, and so very afraid. he doesn't flinch at your biting words. his hand, so big and warm, still holds yours. his eyebrows are no longer furrowed and his dark eyes seem to lose the urgency within them. instead, they're filled with something that feels like patience, understanding, and tenderness all at once. you don't dare to put a name to the feeling, but you know it when you see it. love. 

"don't you fucking look at me like that! you don't deserve to look at me like that! i hate you," you choke out with a sob. hot and angry tears begin to trickle down your cheeks and his eyes widen. gently, purposefully, he pulls you into his chest with one hand and cradles your head with the other.

"shh... don't cry. please don't cry. it's all my fault," he coos as you half-heartedly hit his chest in frustration.

"you're an asshole. you treated me like shit and now you're forcing me to talk about it. why are you making me do this?"

each point is punctuated with a "smack" against his chest.

"because i love you," he whispers into the top of your head as his fingers begin to soothingly stroke your hair. "even if i don't deserve to... even if you wish i didn't, i do. so much. and i think i always have, i just didn't know it."

"that's not fair," you strain between sobs. "y-you broke my heart."

tentatively, like he's handling glass so fragile it could break with the slightest hint of force, he unwraps his arms from your shivering frame and cups your reddened face in his hands, gently wiping away your tears. his head cranes down as he touches his forehead against yours. you look up with your misty eyes and see his gaze trained on you.

"i know, i know... i'm an asshole... it's all my fault. please don't cry. hit me harder, if you want. smack me. punch me. kill me if it makes you feel better. just don't cry anymore, okay? i can't stand to see you cry."

he sounds like he's bargaining with a child throwing a tantrum with the way his words are hushed and hurried, but pacifying all the same. in any other circumstance, you'd roll your eyes at his theatrics, but he seems so desperate to get you to calm down that you can't bring yourself to point it out. he pulls you back into his arms and you burrow your head into his chest as he rubs circles into your back. with every sob he shushes you softly and drowns you with affirmations.

i know, i'm sorry, i love you.

it's my fault, don't cry, i love you.

you stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time.

"i know i was wrong for treating you the way i did; i was young and stupid and i had no idea what i'd be missing. i know i'm being unfair, but i promise i'll make it up to you every day. i'm not going to hurt you and i won't leave unless you want me to. you're my soulmate, and i wouldn't have it any other way. i can't have it any other way. if it's not you, i don't want anyone else." 

you're softening now and you hate it; you want to run away and continue to be angry. the betrayal you felt was indelible. you can still see him with a girl on his arm and you feel nauseous. you remember him telling you just how indifferent he was to you, to your feelings, to your pain. but none of that seems to matter anymore as he gently cups your face and runs the pads of his thumbs under your eyes to stop your tears. "okay," you say softly, and you don't have to explain, because he already knows.

-

when he takes you back to his hotel room, he promises he won't touch you unless you want him to. you want him to. you stand on your tip toes and pull him down towards your lips and his breath catches behind his teeth. he raises his hands up to your face, reminiscent of the way he held it as you cried a mere hour ago, and you giggle at the parallel. he seizes the opportunity to gently glide his tongue on your lips before entering your mouth. he groans into your lips as your tongues tease each other. you're even sweeter than he imagined you'd be, and he can feel his effect on you as he breaks the kiss and trails hot, opened-mouth kisses on your neck. this is what he's been missing, he thinks, as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

that night, beomgyu takes you again and again. it's more than sex - it's as if the stars aligned for the sole purpose of bringing you two together for this exact moment. you feel connected to him in a way so profound, you previously thought it was impossible. it feels like the universe put him on this planet just for you, and you for him. you suppose, in a way, it did. especially when you two are finally finished as you lay your head on his chest and feel every breath enter and exit his warm body. he cradles you in his arms and you look up at him, locking eyes. you both smile while he reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ears, revealing your seal.

"so beautiful," he whispers.

"who? me or the seal?"

"the seal, of course," he says nonchalantly, "but looking at you now, you're not too bad." you playfully smack his chest and he reacts with a comically childish yell. you hurriedly cover his mouth and shush him, but he takes the opportunity to grab your hand and kiss your fingers with an overdramatic "mwah!"

"you're so fucking loud, you know?" you tease, poking his side.

"says the one who was screaming out my name the entire night."

"i hate you," you say embarrassedly, blush overwhelming your already flushed cheeks as you hide your face in his chest.

"maybe, but you're still stuck with me," he replies.

"mhmm," you mumble into his skin - already falling asleep.

"stuck with me forever, right?" he asks, and if you weren't so intent on burying yourself into his chest, you'd see the look of insecurity on his face - his long eyelashes trembling ever so slightly.

"forever," you say as you drift off to sleep, and you're so happy, so content, he finally feels safe enough to sleep without fear of waking up in the morning to an empty bed. he grasps you even tighter and mumbles "i love you" into your hair until he eventually drifts off himself.

notes pt. 2: not the best thing i've ever written i fear... anyway do y'all wanna read the extremely corny fluff that i originally wrote for this or no? it's sooo corny but sweet i think. as always, feedback is always appreciated :)

[taglist]

@my313 @woncheecks @superbbananananana @zzhyuu @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @defnotleee @everythingvirgoes

[jackdelroys]

hihi!!! i’d like to request either surprise or seductive for jack delroy or murdoc please, take your pic!! (honestly ive been in a slump with my own dd fics and your prompts have been a joy to read, ty for the lovely content!! 💕)

hi!! ty for the request 🖤 im very glad to hear people are enjoying! i decided to go with murdoc for this one, because as of late hes taken over my brain entirely : (

[ surprise ] a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard

YOU always kept the bedroom door locked at night.

nestled deep in the covers of your bed, you were already drifting off by the time the darkened figure slipped through the open window -- that was a precaution you'd forgotten to take this particularly warm evening.

you didn't hear the soft thud of boots on the carpet, nor the distress of leather as he flexed his knuckles once, twice, hand gripped tight around the handle of a sharpened blade. he brushed back his hair, it was a long journey to get here. but he'd made it.

it wasn't until he reached the far end of your bed, eyes trailed on your sleeping figure did he even remember to breathe. once in, deep, then out, exhaling the sting of exhaustion with it.

he's on you before you can even wake.

you panic at first, until you recognize the familiar scent of lavender detergent and, much more prominently, gunpowder. you barely whisper his name before he silences you with a feverish kiss, forcing his knee between your legs and pressing his weight against you. he swallows the dazed groan you let out and trails his tongue over your lip, nipping at it. he drinks in the way you shudder underneath his body with a wicked, self-satisfied grin and dark eyes grow wide in intrigue as you squirm under him. he pulls away and allows his coat to drop to the floor, followed quickly by the thick sweater he's wearing underneath, and the gloves that get in his way of removing it.

"anyone could have come through that window," he breathes, mouth still working its way down your neck, hands brushing the ragged shirt you'd worn to bed up, just enough for his fingers to trace your sides, it was a figure he'd committed to memory already, but old habits surely die hard. it was one of his favorite pastimes.

"you're lucky it was me."

"lucky?" you choke out, "you fucking scared me. and then you --" you're cut off again by his lips on yours, one hand tugging gently at your hair, tilting your neck just up enough for him to return to it.

"-- and then you do this."

he pulls away suddenly.

"i can stop, if you'd like, doll."

"god, no, don't."

that shit-eating smile is back on his face, and then it's gone, buried in your skin again. your fingers reach up to weave into his hair, pulling harshly as you feel his teeth sink into the flesh just above your collarbone.

"shit --"

"so sorry, doll. can't help it."

you hiss his name, drawing his attention once more. his head falls slightly to the left as he hovers over you.

"i love you, but i was sleeping, murdoc. i'm tired."

with an inconvenienced roll of his eyes, he's also rolled off of you, and instead into the empty space of his pillow next to yours. his arms stay wrapped around you though, and his larger figure curls in on yours, pressing you close to his chest. you wonder if he's ever really comfortable like that, or if he's just so used to sleeping that way that he can't otherwise while he's home. he's still trailing his hands across your torso, just as he always does, almost as though he was curious, eager to study each and very part of you. and perhaps he was. this idea of permanence was all very new to him too, after all.

you fascinated him. it's why he kept coming back, over and over. it's why he breathes against you and kisses your head once more, and it's why he waits for you to fall asleep again before closing his eyes himself. he looks beyond you, to the now-locked window. he can feel your pulse in your chest as you resign to slumber once more. he almost laughs, knowing how quickly you'd fallen asleep in his arms, knowing full well the capabilities he has and the things he's done. things he was willing to do.

what a curious creature you were to someone like him. perhaps he'll keep you.

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

4. Day off…not?

Note: just fluff

Y/n woke up to the sound of nothing. No buzzing alarms, no frantic phone calls about schedules, and no urgent notifications lighting up his screen. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was quiet. He stretched lazily, savouring the peace. It took him a moment to remember what was so special about today—his first day off in weeks.

"Finally," he muttered with a smile, sinking deeper into his pillow. No errands, no last-minute crises, just a day to himself. Maybe he’d stay in bed all day, watch some TV, or—

Ding. The unmistakable sound of a text message cut through the silence.

“Please don’t be whoever I think it is..” Y/n groaned and lazily reached for his phone on the nightstand. It couldn’t be work; the staff knew he was off today. Still, out of habit, he checked the screen.

Ningning:

Oppa, can you do me a huuuge favor?

“Yizhuo, u kidding me…”

Y/n rubbed his eyes, blinking at the message. He hesitated, half-considering ignoring it, but something told him that wasn’t an option. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he typed a quick reply.

Y/n:

Ning, it’s my day off.

He felt a small surge of pride for setting boundaries. Today was about him. He wouldn’t get sucked into their usual chaos—

Ding.

Ningning:

But I forgot to pick up my laundryyyyy 🥺 Please, Oppa, I’ll owe you big time!

Y/n sighed, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Of course, Ningning had a way of getting what she wanted. He typed out a reluctant, “fine,” and tossed the phone aside. Maybe he could do just this one thing. How hard could it be?

As he moved to get dressed, his phone buzzed again.

Ding.

Giselle:

Y/n, I think I lost my keys… help?

Y/n stopped mid-motion.

“Seriously?” He thought, staring at the screen. This was supposed to be his day off. He shook his head and responded.

Y/n:

Aeri, it’s my day off.

Ding.

Giselle:

I knooow, but it’s an emergency!

Sighing deeply, Y/n realised the quiet, relaxing day he had envisioned was rapidly slipping away. He grabbed his jacket and keys, already resigned to his fate. First stop, laundry for Ningning.

-

The laundromat wasn’t far from aespa’s dorm, so Y/n made quick work of grabbing Ningning’s clothes and heading to drop them off. On the way, his phone buzzed again. He didn’t even need to check the notification to know who it was.

As always, the comedy (pain) comes in 3 acts.

Winter:

Pabooo, can you get me some snacks? You know the ones I eat all the time. Pleaseee?

Y/n:

You do realise I’m not working today, right?

Winter:

That’s why I’m asking! You’ll be free later, right?

Y/n:

You dipsh-

Y/n sighed. He couldn’t win with these girls. After dropping off Ningning’s laundry and being thanked with a bright grin and a peace sign, he made his way to the convenience store. If he was going to spend his day off like this, he might as well commit.

-

By the time Y/n reached aespa’s dorm, bags in hand, he felt more like a delivery boy than a manager. He pushed open the door, greeted by a mix of tired-but-not-really faces and a familiar tension in the air—mostly from Karina, who barely acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"Didn’t expect you here on your day off," Karina said, arms crossed, her tone neutral, but Y/n could feel the underlying coolness. She still wasn’t completely over the fact that he had been thrust into the role of their manager with little experience.

"Yeah, well, apparently days off don’t exist when you’re the manager," Y/n replied dryly, his eyes briefly meeting hers before shifting to Winter, who was eagerly waiting for her snacks.

Winter popped her head out of the practice room and grinned. "Let’s goooo, good job, Y/n!” she chirped, grabbing the snacks he had brought. "I knew you couldn’t resist helping your best friend."

"I had a flipping choice?" Y/n quipped, though he couldn’t help but smile. He watched Winter tear into the bag like a kid on Christmas, feeling the warmth of their friendship creep in. Despite the tension with Karina, Winter’s presence always brought a sense of ease.

Karina, though, stayed reserved. Even now, after weeks of working together, there was still a quiet unease between them. It wasn’t like they openly disliked each other, but there was something unsaid lingering between every glance and conversation.

-

Later that day, Y/n had finally managed to leave the girls alone and get some semblance of quiet when his phone buzzed again.

Ding.

Giselle:

Any update on my keys?

Y/n rolled his eyes. He had scoured half the dorm for those stupid keys, and they were nowhere to be found. He groaned, heading back to the practice room where Giselle was crouching on the floor.

"Aeri" he sighed, "Where did you even lose them?”

"If I knew, I wouldn’t have lost them, would I?” she replied with a grin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Karina, who came to help out, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, shot Y/n a look, as if to say, “You see what I deal with?”

"Let’s retrace your steps, I guess," Y/n said, rubbing his temples, though he couldn’t help but smirk at Giselle’s casual attitude. Karina reluctantly followed suit.

-

As Y/n sat up from the couch he accidentally crashed in aespa’s dorm, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the sound of giggling caught his attention. Ningning, Winter, and Giselle stood over him, smirking in a way that made him feel a little uneasy.

"Good morning, oppa," Ningning teased, barely containing her laughter as she nudged him lightly.

Y/n frowned, still groggy. "What time is it?” he groaned, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

"Late," Winter replied, tossing him a water bottle. "Didn’t know you’d stay all day.”

"Neither did I," he muttered, taking a sip of water.

Something felt….off. The way they were all staring at him, the mischievous grins they were failing to hide—it didn’t sit right with him, but he was too tired to dig into it.

Just then, Karina appeared at the doorway, arms crossed as usual. "Go home," she said, her voice softer than usual. There was an unfamiliar warmth in her tone. "You’ve done enough for today. Sorry that you have to deal with these children even on your day off.”

Y/n blinked, a little thrown off by the sudden kindness, but he wasn’t about to question it. "Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.

"Y/n, you look... different," Giselle said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Ningning and Winter tried to stifle their laughter, looking away.

"What are you talking about?” Y/n asked, confused. He glanced down at his clothes—everything looked normal. Shrugging, he grabbed his jacket and started to head out the door.

"Nothing! See you tomorrow, Oppa!” Ningning called out, bursting into giggles.

"Yeah, see you...idiot” Winter added, her voice trembling from trying to hold back her laughter.

Y/n gave them a suspicious look but didn’t press further. He was too tired to deal with their antics tonight. He left the building, heading out into the cool night air, finally ready to go home and get some real rest.

-

As Y/n made his way through the convenience store to grab a drink before heading home, he noticed a few people staring at him strangely. A cashier gave him a weird look as he paid for his drink, and a couple of girls passing by couldn’t stop giggling when they saw him.

“What’s their problem?” he thought, feeling a little paranoid. Shrugging it off, he pulled out his phone to check the time. But as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dark screen, his eyes widened in horror.

There, scribbled all over his face in colourful marker, were ridiculous doodles: a poorly drawn moustache, cat whiskers, and the words “Manager Oppa” and “Best Idiot” written across his forehead.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing the full extent of what had happened. Those friggin devils! No wonder they’d been giggling! He must have looked like a complete idiot walking around with his face like this.

With a sigh, Y/n rubbed his temples—thankfully, the markers weren't permanent. Grabbing a napkin from his bag, he tried wiping it off, but some of the ink had already settled too deep for a quick clean-up.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice…of course Kim Minjeong was the mastermind of this crime…”

As he walked out of the store, trying to hide his face from any more passersby, his phone buzzed. A message from the group chat appeared on his screen.

Ningning:

You looked soooo cute with your new look today, oppa! 😂

Winter:

We’re so proud of you, “Best Idiot” 😸

Giselle:

Thanks for being such a good sport!

Y/n groaned, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Sure, they’d tricked him, but it was harmless fun—typical aespa chaos. Tomorrow, though? He was going to make sure they paid for it.

With that thought, Y/n trudged home, already mentally planning his revenge…after he had his sleep.

-

The next day, after washing off the colourful madness on his face since he was too tired to do so last night, Y/n was just about to fully enjoy his day off on his bed when his phone buzzed again.

He sighed, part of him tempted to just throw it under the pillow and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours. But when he glanced at the screen, he saw three unread messages, all from the aespa group chat.

Giselle:

Y/n, I lost my keys again...

Ningning:

I tried washing my clothes but messed up the detergent ratios. Now there’s foam everywhere.

Winter:

Please get some snack. Thanks lol

Y/n rubbed his temples. “Day off?” He scoffed to himself. “Yeah, right.”

Despite his fatigue, he found himself grabbing his jacket again and heading back out. He figured he could at least get Giselle’s keys sorted, swing by Ningning’s place to fix the laundry disaster, and grab Winter’s snack in one go.

But first, he made a quick stop at a nearby convenience store.

-

By the time Y/n got to Ningning’s place, it looked like a small laundry soap apocalypse had occurred. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands covered in suds, giving him a sheepish grin.

"Help..." she pleaded, pointing to the washing machine, which was overflowing with bubbles. "I thought more detergent would make it cleaner, but now it’s like this.”

“Well, they clearly not, Ning.”

“I know! Help me out please!”

Y/n let out a deep sigh, but couldn’t help smiling at her cluelessness. "Alright, step back." He quickly adjusted the machine’s settings, drained some of the excess water, and cleaned up the foam. "Next time, use less detergent, okay?”

"Thanks, oppa!" Ningning beamed, but before Y/n could leave, she added, "Oh, and can you fix my bed too? It keeps creaking loudly for some reason."

-

After taking care of Ningning’s detergent disaster and bed crisis, Y/n swung by Giselle at the practice room to help her find her keys. They were wedged between the couch cushions—again.

"You really need a keychain or something, Aeri" Y/n sighed as he handed the keys to her.

"I know, I know... I keep losing them," Giselle admitted with a grin. "But hey, you’re always there to help, so thanks Y/n!”

Y/n chuckled. "Yeah, maybe I should start charging."

“Aren't you already charged from the company?”

“Yes, but I’ll get my overtime from you all.” Y/n joked.

-

With those dilemmas sorted, Y/n made his final stop: Winter’s room. She greeted him at the door with an eager smile, immediately grabbing the bags of snacks from his hands.

"Finally! I was starving." She didn’t waste any time ripping open the snacks.

Y/n rolled his eyes. "You could’ve just walked out and bought them yourself, you know.”

"But then what’s the point of having you around?" Winter teased with a grin. "Besides, you do the whole manager thing so well now. It’s almost like you're used to dealing with all our nonsense."

"Am I now?" Y/n muttered, though he couldn’t deny that things had become somewhat smoother lately. "But seriously, don’t call me on my day off unless it’s an emergency."

"Is snack hunger not an emergency? Is your best friend wanting to snack not one at all?” Winter retorted, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n shook his head with a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re a small bean, Minjeong.”

“I know, I’m abusing it.” Winter snorted.

-

As he walked out of Winter’s dorm, he hesitated before making one final stop. Karina’s room was next on his mental checklist, though she hadn’t messaged him today. Their tension had been palpable for a while, and he figured it couldn’t hurt to try and lighten the mood.

Knocking lightly, he waited a moment before Karina opened the door. She looked surprised to see him, after he fully declared he will enjoy his day off.

"Uh, hey," Y/n began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... uh... didn’t get any distress signals from you, but I brought you something anyway."

Karina raised an eyebrow, curious. Y/n handed her a small bag containing her favourite snack. "Just... you know, a peace offering or whatever," he added awkwardly, not quite sure how to approach the tension between them.

She stared at the bag for a moment, then back at him. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking the bag from him. The awkwardness between them hung in the air, but something in her expression softened.

"Karina," Y/n continued, fidgeting a little. "I know we’ve been... off lately, and I just wanted to... you know, make sure we’re cool. I mean, I’m still figuring this whole manager thing out, but I don’t want us to be at odds all the time."

Karina looked down at the snack in her hands, then back at Y/n. "It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing," she said slowly. "You’ve improved a lot since the beginning... it’s just..."

She hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

"I guess it’s hard to adjust to someone new in the group. Especially someone who used to be a trainee, like us, with skills that does and does not correlate with the role" she finally admitted. "But I don’t hate you or anything. It’s just... a weird transition."

Y/n nodded, understanding. "Ahhh, I get you.”

Karina took a deep breath, then gave him a rare, genuine smile. "Thanks for the snack, though. It helps."

Y/n chuckled softly, feeling a bit of the weight between them lift. "No problem…Jimin. Just... don’t let the others know I’m handing out free snacks. They’ll start demanding a whole shop."

Karina laughed lightly, the sound easing the remaining tension between them. "Deal."

As Y/n turned to leave, he felt a little more hopeful about where things stood between him and Karina. Small steps, but steps nonetheless.

-

Heading home after the day’s unexpected chaos, Y/n finally felt like he might actually get that day off... tomorrow, maybe. But for now, he’d settle for some well-deserved rest. He pulled out his phone one last time and texted the group chat:

Y/n:

Next time, I’m charging you all for manager duties on my day off.

$50 USD per hour. Take it or leave it, suckers.

Unknowingly, Winter replied.

Bet.

[pickleking8]

11 - Adoption Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be - Chapter Eleven

Words: 945

Ao3 Link

Previous - Masterpost

Tw: death of a minor due to beating/fire/explosion, kidnapping, lmk if I missed anything

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

When Jason Todd was six years old, he believed in magic, and he thought that his father was the most magical of all. His dad, who worked so hard, and always came home late, with a resigned and drawn face, who still made sure to hug him, play with him, tuck him in and tell him a story before bed. Jason loved hearing the soft voice of his father spinning fantastic tales as he slowly slipped into sleep. He had a lot of magic, then. 

When Jason Todd was seven years old, his father went to prison, blamed for a petty crime he didn’t commit, and there was no more soft click of the door as his father came home, and no more stories, and no more soft voice lulling him to sleep. A little magic died, then. 

When Jason Todd was nine and a half (and it’s important never to forget the “and a half”, or he’ll be upset with you), when the house had gotten bare and his mother had gotten quiet, his father was killed in Arkham, in a brawl. Not the nicest way to go, as the drawling man on the phone had said, bored and indifferent. Then, a lot of magic died, to be replaced by sadness and anger. 

When Jason Todd was eleven, his mom died too, taking with her hugs and movie nights and warm tea and homework help, always ever so patient in explaining exponents for the tenth time, and many more numbers of things, including their apartment. She had gotten quieter, and sadder, after his father’s death, and didn’t really get better, but she still made time for him, and loved him the same, and made sure that he knew that. By then, Jason was nearly out of magic, and nearly full of other things, like rage and grief and sorrow and desolation.

When Jason Todd was twelve, after a year of running, from everyone and everything, he stole Batman’s tires and hit him with a tire iron. Right in the stomach, and Batman would deny until the day he died that he yelped. Soon, Gotham met Robin, and stood in admiration at his gaiety and delight with the world. Jason gained magic, then, and gained more and more as time went on and he healed, anger and sadness not gone, but not weighing him down. Jason fell into stories once again, into the magic that they wove, into helping others, into going to school. Jason was happy, and Jason was loved. 

When Jason Todd was fifteen, he died, and it was horrific. He was given hope for his mother, and it was ripped away. He was beaten, pain blossoming across his skin, before an explosion roared and a blast of hot air washed over his already flushed face. He died, wishing, hoping for his dad to come and save him, for his magic to be real, hoping against everything that his end would not be here, on a gritty concrete floor in a dimly lit warehouse. He died, feeling flames lap against his clothes, his fingers, his cheeks, protected not by the tears that ran down them in torrents, leaking from under a mask he believed would save him. He died, accompanied by the sound of sickly sweet, cackling laughter ringing in his ears, and, ever so faintly, so quiet he couldn’t be sure it was actually there, a quiet click of the final door closing, and soft voice telling him stories, lulling him into sleep. 

When Jason Todd had been dead a year and a half (sixteen, he would have been sixteen, a junior, exploring and loving everything in the way that teenagers do), he used up the last splinter of magic, born from hope, and clawed, screaming, choking, and crying, out of his grave, dark clay coating him and his favorite sweater, the bright baby blue smeared with an ugly, dried-blood red. When Jason Todd burst from the crumbling dirt, he was met with a cool, crisp night, fresh air (not rot, it didn’t smell like rot, he didn’t want to smell anything rotting ever again), and a woman, clad in flowing, dark clothing and smiling just like his mother used to. She said her name was Talia, and she helped him up, leading him away with a smile sweet as medicine. 

When Jason Todd had been dead three years (he would have been eighteen, gone to college, studied the books he always loved, learned as he always loved), he came back to Gotham angry and hurting, drowning in betrayal, unable to break the ice holding him down and slowly sinking into frigid depths. He wanted to be avenged (he wanted to be saved), not just for his death but for his childhood, for every moment that was ripped away from him. And if his dad Bruce wouldn’t do it, then he would. It was easy, simple as that (why didn’t he save me?). When Jason Todd was three years and eleven days dead, he watched through the beady red eyes of the manor cameras as his family the Bats snatched a desperate, beaten child, wrenching his hands away from a scraping metal fence, and carried him back into the manor, eyes wide and tears running down a crumbling facade (just like Jason’s had), flinching away from the green-tinted light like it were really a flame that lapped at his skin, his screams echoing just the same as if the manor had been a dim and gritty warehouse. And it may well have been: both places were filled, now, to the brim with bitter and desolate hope, and a resounding call for salvation.

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Jason Todd makes his debut! Also, sorry for the long break between updates! The motivation just wasn't there for a while, and school was really busy. And I know I say this every time, but I'm excited to get back into writing, and hopefully this time the motivation gods will favor me and there will be another chapter sooner than three months from now. Anyway, thanks so much for reading!

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Taglist: @tkiesai

[caitlinsnicket]

izzy hands sfw headcanons part 3

a/n: part 1 here, part 2 here. theres a lot more under the cut. its huge but i didnt want to make a thousand parts. have a nice meal

he has the habit of blowing things out of proportion, no matter how tiny and insignificant they are. he's dramatic and whiny, even theatrical at times, and something that never fails to get a reaction out of him is when you call it out

maybe he'll be screaming at the crew, saying that they should know how to clean a deck, threatening them with death or a beating, until you ask him what got his panties in a twist

he just stills. completely. no movement, just a frozen izzy in the middle of everyone, expecting his reaction. he just runs a hand thorugh his hair, moves his shoulders around and leaves the place without another word, dissapearing into his cabin

after a little while, you go to him and he's taken his outer clothing off, sitting on the bed and rubing his face with his hands. you go to him and hug him, massaging his shoulders next, caressing his hair until he melts onto you. he's just tired, and when he's tired he's dramatic

although sometimes, he's just dramatic for the sake of it, and then you allow it, entering in his rare shenanigans to humor him

his resigned smiles when you flirt with him are the best thing in the world, it never fails to make your heart flutter inside your chest

he has many different smiles, and as he learns to be more at ease with the crew, they become more frequent and bright. it makes you feel good, tha he's learning to become a functional person again, and that he's allowing other people to witness it

he has a habit of sitting on your lap. in the begining he was reluctant to do so (even though he wanted to), saying that he was no damsel that needed rescuing, but after the firsttime he did it in a tavern, drunk in booze and love, he's surrendered to his desires and now constantly rests on top of you

when you're eating at the table, when you're at stede's cabin, when you're just lounging on deck or having a party, he claims his place on your lap and rests there, his ungloved hand caressing your shoulders and back comfortably

because he gets more used to pda and relaxes more around the crew, he also gets more comfortable with touching them casually, like showing someone how to do a specific knot or teaching them how to fight in a specific way

he gives hugs (rarely and quickly though) and gentle taps on shoulders, ruffles hairs and taps knees. he's taken the role of the resigned father, and even though he'll never admit it, he's very happy to be this figure to everyone

although, sometimes he'll get overwhelmed with feelings and just cuss everyone out in an attempt to stop the ache in his chest. he calls you twat, cocksucker, idiot, and other variations, but there's no real venom behind his words. just a fear of closeness that he clearly doesn't want to feel

when hugging, he begins stiff, barely touching you back, and then suddenly he just melts, nose buried on your neck, his eyes closed and his eyebrows creased, leaning on you to the point he's almost put all his body weight on you

he needs these touches, these cuddles and hugs to recharge after a long day of piracy and ordering around. with the way the capitans act, he might as well be the one in charge, and it wears him out. sometimes all he needs to keep going is for you to pull him to a corner and engulf him with your arms for a while, in complete silence, just so he can ground himself better and feel good enough to go back to work

sometimes when the two of you are kissing, he'll just pull back, his hands on your shoulders, and just look at you for a moment, scanning your face as if to commit it to memory, and then he goes back in, taking your breath away. it's like can't get enough of you

izzy is a conflicted man, and at times, it feels like he's sorry for loving you. like he's apologising for his feelings, like he feels guilty for being devoted to you. "I... love you". he says it as if it's an inconvenience, as if he's trying to warn you that this is happening. like it doesn't need saying, and it's a mistake to actually put it out there

so tell him you love him back, reassure him, make him feel good about loving you, encourage him to put himself out there and he'll learn to see his feelings as a gift, and not as a disease

he often feels that he's not good, that he's an infection and that you shouldn't get too close or you'll get sick too. but when you tell him again all the good things he's done, all the lovely feelings you have for him and how he's entitled to not having good days and being angry, he almost believes it. and for now, that's enough

at first you don't ask him about his scars, thinking it might set him off or make him defensive, but one day he asks about yours, and you tentatively ask him about one on his cheek. he tells you gladly, even cracking a joke or two, and you feel more confident to ask him about it

so one day the two of you are laying in bed and he sits up, getting ready to go on about his days, and you run your fingers on his back scars. the question tingles on the tip of your tongue, but you don't say it. instead, with a soft raspy voice, he questions you. "would you like to know?". and so he tells you all the gruesome details and sad parts, and he doesn't let any of it out

he's scared that you'll see him differently, but you just hug him from behind, kissing his shoulders and the scars you can reach, earning a low chuckle from deep in his chest. you reassure him and pull him back in the bed, keeping him there for a while before you allow him to go to work

when he takes up on wearing feminine, soft clothing, it's a whole thing between the two of you. you steal some stuff from stede, maybe you already had it before joining the crew, and one day after he's taken a bath he sees it and he just puts it on, in an attempt to be sexy and seduce you

but it just shifts something in his brain, he finds out how much he loves soft, delicate fabrics rubbing on his skin, and then he starts stealing your clothes. it sparks an awkward conversation between the two of you, until you just tell him that he can wear your stuff whenever you want, and that you'd like to buy him more delicate stuff

next time you're on land, you buy him more soft stuff, and you decide to take a corset too. you show it to him and say he doesn't have to wear it, but you thought he might like it and so there it is

he just feels so overwhelmed with the care and consideration you have for him that his cheeks get extremely warm, and he almost cries when he tries it on for the first time. he looks absolutely dashing, and he feels like it, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen

he's a little hesitant in wearing these things in front of the crew, but many conversations with you, wee john and jim manage to get him out of his shell and he just flourishes after that. he wears a mix of dresses and leather and soft fabrics and lace and fixes his hair in a way that makes him feel cute and no one respects him less for it. he's still the feared first mate, best swordsman ever known

and after a little while he starts experimenting with makeup, with the help of wee john, and so he starts training on you and he finds out that he's a great artist. he doesn't do it fancy all the time, but in special ocasions he goes overboard and oh boy. it's the brightest he's ever smiled

tell him he deserves soft and beautiful things

he's always worn leather, but now he wears more feminine cuts and special corsets that make his chest puff out even more than normal. it makes you foam at the mouth, and when he really wants to tease people, he gets dressed completely in leather and strings, swaying his hips as he walks away with a smirk

sometimes he'll catch you staring at his tattoos and he wonders what you think about them, if you wonder about the circumstances that originated them, if you'd like him to talk about it. he doesn't ask. he also wonders what kind of tattoo you'd give him, and the idea of having you permanently inked on his skin sends chills down his spine

if you're the same height he likes that you're always at the same level, and it's more likely that he'll give you cheek kisses. if he's taller than you (its possible people), he'll always kiss your forehead, and it gives him a buzz of power that you have to look at him through your eyelashes. if you're taller than him, he'll kiss your chin and tuck his head under it, and he'll swoon at how you look at him from above

slut

praise him constantly, you'll see how good it makes him feel. praise him for the little things and the big things too. he specially likes it when you watch him train and you start praising him for his fighting skills, his strength and his body. he'll finish his training beaming and with a light flush on his cheeks

[teecupangel]

Based on @wisecloudnightmare’s tags in the Altaïr and Desmond commits identity fraud (on each other) idea:

#this makes me think of that one comic where joonghyuk keeps saying going away kim dokja and then when kim dokha really disappears #he says don't you ever leave again or I'll kill you asfghjkbijgds #ugh but altaïr with 999th joonghyuk's personality would be so fascinating too #the one where his mind is really fragile but he's still a beast to fight with. only kdj can tame him.

(Absolute spoilers to ORV underneath)

I believe you are talking about the 1863rd Yoo Joonghyuk. 999th Yoo Joonghyuk is the best boi who sacrificed his limbs and life so his companions could reach the ending even without him by making a pact with a certain Outer God (which I think would be a fun idea to play with as well).

We’ll focus on 1863rd version for this one and we’ll make it so that Altaïr is regressing over and over again and he has no idea why.

He’s caught in a time loop that starts every time he died (doesn’t matter when, where or how, what matters is he dies) and he doesn’t even have a goal to focus on.

He always regresses to the same point:

The moment he killed an innocent man underneath the Temple Mount, Malik saying the same words again and again.

Nothing worked.

Getting the Apple of Eden during this time did not help.

Saving Kadar did not do anything.

Killing Abbas before he orders the death of his family and friends did not end this cursed life.

His first life was not perfect but it was a fulfilling one.

His later lives?

He could not bear to watch his sons grow and die before him.

He could not bear the thought of that family of his from long ago become just another part of this wretched tragedy.

That’s when the Apple whispers to him of what he must do.

It never did that before.

So he agrees to it as long as the Apple promises to find a way to finally kill him without any chance of returning to that point.

The Apple only says “Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad’s greatest wish will come true in this ‘round’.”

The Apple’s instructions gets Altaïr to kill Al Mualim early on, branding him a traitor and pitting him against his own brothers. This culminates in pretty much a ‘me versus the world’ with Malik being ordered to hunt him down together with Abbas.

During one of the three-way fight between Altaïr, some Assassins and the guards of the city they are in, Desmond appears.

Now…

Desmond survived the Solar Flare but how he did it was hazy. What he does know is that something is terrible wrong with Altaïr because he doesn’t look like the Altaïr in his memories.

This Altaïr is both more savage yet also more tired than Desmond remembered.

There is a resignation in his movements even as he dodged everything. As if he had given up on life but knows he must continue to move forward, ignoring the pain and tiredness of his mortal body.

Desmond doesn’t know about the regressions until the Apple tells him that this is the 1863rd ‘loop’.

Because of this, Desmond tries to help him and Altaïr leans on him because he is an anomaly. He knows of Altaïr’s first life.

He only knows about Altaïr’s first life, reminding him about it when he himself barely remembers it.

Desmond was from the original timeline.

Desmond was the real key to end this, not the Apple.

And so Altaïr started to depend on him.

Protecting Desmond was the most important thing in this entire world because he was Desmond, the key to ending all of this and the first person to ever get pass the darkness that has clouded Altaïr’s mind for so long.

Desmond was important.

Desmond’s words were law.

All he needed was Desmond.

.

.

On the other corner…

The Apple just lets Desmond use it like it was Desmond’s personal Google.

It does, however, give an error every time Desmond asks why he’s been transported to this timeline and the truth about the loops.

Desmond knows that Altaïr is getting a bit… well…. obsessed with him. But it brought life back in his eyes and that was enough for Desmond. He’d deal with the rest as they come up. (famous last words)

.

The twist is the loop is an unintentional byproduct of the Reader and the Heir trying to find clues to how to save the world by checking the other unused timelines that the Calculations had also found and more timelines that the Calculations didn’t catch the first time.

They didn’t know that Altaïr’s constant use of the apple made him the closest being to them and he gets sucked into their research, but didn’t get to the Grey. Instead, he was taking over the consciousness of the Altaïrs in those timelines they’re ‘skimming’.

Time was inconsequential to the Reader and the Heir. It was not to Altaïr.

They only learned about Altaïr around the end of the 1862nd turn.

The Apple? That’s the Heir staying in the Gray and connecting with the Apple to guide Altaïr into bringing the solution into the 1863rd worldline.

Unfortunately, something happened and what he brought was an incomplete solution.

Because Desmond forgot that he was the Reader.

[rabbiitte]

EP7: The misconception of Mew turning “evil”.

Mew didn't turn “evil”. Engaging in manipulation might pose a challenge for someone who has never practiced it before. Mew possessed the ability to manipulate from the outset, yet he often refrained from doing so, often reserving it primarily for his relationship with Top (he exercised manipulation sometimes consciously and sometimes unconsciously). This explains his adeptness in manipulating Nick, as he skillfully chooses his words and delivery. "Victims"? Mew is fully aware that Nick isn't innocent (what he did was pretty illegal), but Mew doesn't hesitate to tailor his words to Nick's preferences. Throughout, Mew has always been intelligent and has always used that intelligence to achieve his goals, whether academically or romantically.

Similarly, Mew had long held an internal belief in his superiority over Boston (a sentiment reciprocated by Boston), but he finally chose to voice this sentiment in EP7. He had never endorsed Boston's lifestyle and consistently passed judgment on it, allowing his friends to condemn and degrade him (an attitude Boston mirrored by condemning and denigrating Mew).

Indeed, Mew possesses the capacity to consume alcohol but he often refrained due to his low tolerance. This low tolerance translated to a fear of losing control and letting his guard down, actions Mew, who thrives on being "superior" and in control, detests.

He, as seen in EP3 at the pool party, only chose to indulge in alcohol when he knew Top would be taking care of him, given the trust he had in him. That was the first time we saw him drunk. However, maintaining control where it led Mew? Mew probably thinks the answer is "nowhere." Consequently, he opted to deactivate what seemed ineffective. Mew has grown tired of being the one in control, at least when he's with Ray. Mew has resigned himself to not being able to control and change everything.

What has shifted within Mew isn't his core identity. And, of course, from the beginning of the series he has a very clear and marked identity. He still retains his sense of superiority, manipulative tendencies and a strong need for control. He remains a romantic at heart and continues to find solace in books. The change lies in how he assesses people. Mew no longer fully trusts his own judgment and refrains from acting on it. Currently, Mew selectively emphasizes different aspects of his personality based on the situation, like his need for control (notably, around Ray, he still exhibits some other traits of the old Mew). He can turn his need for control (and self-control) on and off depending on the circumstances. With Boston, his desire for control is intensified, while it lessens when interacting with Ray.

This shift arises from Mew's realization that a) trying to change Ray (or Top) is futile, b) he trusts Ray and he longs to escape his emotional turmoil.

In essence, what we witness in Mew's current actions is a previously concealed aspect of his identity. It doesn't represent his entire being, but rather a facet that has existed within him all along, and he now consciously chooses to emphasize it. Control remains an inherent part of his personality, yet he has gained (through negative experiences) the ability to decide when to employ it (quite an important lesson, if you ask me) . Mew hasn't transformed into a malevolent figure; rather, he has allowed his questionable thoughts and inclinations to manifest in his behavior. This doesn't categorize him as a corrupt individual; instead, it portrays him as someone fundamentally good who occasionally commits regrettable actions. The same principle applies to the other characters in the series. Embracing this complexity is the essence of understanding their personas.

More about Mew and his need for control here.

[mowiwow]

four a.m. (modern lars)

In the earliest hours of day, or perhaps the latest hours of night, his eyes slowly open.

It takes a second for the world to come into focus. His screensaver, a picture of the very first painting he bought from you, has long since been replaced by a sea of inky darkness. The cold white light of his office forces him to squint his eyes a little as he surveys the room.

With one hand idly running through already messy blonde locks, Lars moves the mouse to his desktop and blinks slowly at the time displayed in the corner.

4:51 A.M.

An odd hour. Not concretely night, nor is it concretely morning.

…He must’ve fallen asleep right after finalizing everything for tomorrow.

Lars supposes that it’s already tomorrow.

Quietly, in that lonely office elevated high above the streets that everybody walks, the CEO laughs to himself. He leans back in his chair, wincing when his limbs protest in the form of a dull ache. He stares blankly at the ceiling, not yet fully awake.

When was the last time he fell asleep like this?

Usually, he would’ve managed to at least move to the couch in the office. Lars thought he had the strength to fight off the ever-pervading sense of exhaustion, but perhaps he thought wrong.

Or…

Maybe not.

He’s pulled his fair share of all-nighters in the past. If he had to make a guess, the thing that was different was…

Well, after being reminded to take frequent rests by a certain someone, Lars has started to remember what it was like to feel exhaustion as any other regular human would. He lets out another groan, as a faint headache pokes and prods at him. No doubt, it was the lack of sleep he’d been getting during this busier season.

In this large room— a room he spent more time in than his own bedroom— Lars lets himself massage his forehead in an attempt to ease the headache. Nobody’s around for him to entertain, so he freely lets his lips purse into a vaguely annoyed and tired frown.

He really should sleep sometime.

Truthfully, it wasn’t only you that reminded him to get more rest. Mrs. Lane, the housekeeper, occasionally hinted to him her concern over the eyebags he tries to hide. His grandmother, when he calls her— something that tends to be rarer nowadays due to his hectic schedule— often checks up on him when she picks up on the slightest sleepy drag of his words.

Even his driver sometimes looked back at him, from the front mirror, and Lars could see the concern in Mr. Bond’s gaze through that reflection.

Maybe he’s losing a bit of his touch. There are far too many people who have been trying to subtly hint at Lars that he needs more sleep.

…What can he do? With much of his day dedicated to discussing with various business partners, or tending to commitments that had been scheduled weeks earlier, the night has to be dedicated towards preparing for the next hectic day.

But when he imagines your puffed-out cheeks, furrowed brows, and eyes peeking at him with blatant concern, he lets out a resigned sigh. 

Lars is stubborn, but he is no fool. He’s aware that he’s pushing the limits of his body, and that it would be wise for him to spend more time— at the very least— napping rather than staring at documents.

After meeting you, he’s been able to dedicate a little more time to relaxation. Not much. Yet it’s just enough that, once Lars has hit the busiest month of the year, he’s filled with an indescribable heaviness. He’d love to crawl into a warm, fluffy bed right about now.

Honestly, he’s not sure how to feel. Should he laugh? Or cry? It would seem that meeting you had made him more prone to noticing his own exhaustion. He fears he might not be as tolerant of all-nighters anymore.

Well, no point in sitting around to think about it. He still feels exhausted, and he can afford a short nap before he’ll have to continue on with the day.

Might as well get in those final hours of sleep somewhere more comfortable than his desk.

Lars stands up, dragging himself over to the couch in his office. The tired shadow that covers his usually brilliant eyes lightens up a little when he spots the blanket carefully folded on one of the couch cushions.

It’s a faintly yellow blanket with a simple, cartoonish lion stitched onto one corner. Beneath it is a plain pillow that stands out amongst the fancier pillows decorating the couch. On it is a sunflower, stitched on in a similar manner as the lion.

He feels warm. And, as he wraps himself up in the blanket, with his head resting on top of the pillow, it’s as though he’s engulfed in a kind and sincere hug.

Some days are harder to get through than others. But, when he remembers all of those who continue to care for him through their own schedules, through their respective hardships…

Well, he thinks he can keep on going for many days to come.

[likesunsetorange]

“mikasa and eren are antisocial af so they probably end up talking bc they’re little losers lol, and eren probably can tell mikasa is bored and here’s this gorgeous model, so he’s gonna whisk her away and they go to his ranch they have a romantic night under the stars and all that but he’s dumb and doesn’t get her number and she goes back home to ny without it”

DORKS!LOSERS!*AFFECTIONATE*

them slipping out of the room all giddy!!!!!!!!!! him not getting her number is sooodooooso my doodoo head…….. he’s already resigned himself to being a notch on her post, a lover if one may (can he call himself that? he will in his head anyways!)

like a global model would’ve never taken a relationship with him seriously so he’s should just treasure the moment then boom she shows up! and if we’re really leaning into the romcom of it all it’s during like crazy rain, her car gets stuck, she trucks herself to his doorstep by foot, and he stares slack jawed when he opens the door to se her <3

omg anon i was using your ask to draft a drabble and then this little incident of mikasa showing up to eren’s house has since spiraled further so we will be compiling all the ideas into one and since i had already been writing on this one we’re still gonna use yours lol!

also very much enjoying the dramatics and hallmark vibes here like is that just the energy i exude? extreme unseriousness and hallmark level corniness lol??

but fuck it drabble let’s go 🦅🦅🦅

(this actually ended up being so long lol 1.6k so enjoy!)

The rain only started falling harder every minute longer Mikasa continued to drive down the gravel road, the pitch black of the country sky only adding to the lack of visibility. She gripped the steering wheel hard, trying to focus on what little bit of the road she could see. The high beams of the rental car were doing little to nothing to help her see, only adding to her anxiety.

Her only saving grace was the fact that the GPS was telling her she was only five minutes away from Eren’s house—the last place she should be on a Wednesday night in the middle of April—not to mention she was halfway across the country, in the middle of nowhere, driving down a country road to see a man who’d she had only seen once. 

Had it been her best idea? No. Was she still doing it? Absolutely.

There had been few times in her life when she had run off pure spontaneity, and she would allow herself this one instance of a lack of sensibility. It certainly wasn’t wise to book a flight in the act of impulse after finding out said man would be free all week, a pause in his hectic schedule, a schedule she had acquired by coercing her assistant to do some potentially not-so-legal things. 

But the ticket had been bought. The rental car reservation had been made. So there was no turning back. (There certainly was opportunity to turn around, but Mikasa didn’t want to give herself any potential out or else she wouldn’t ever commit to doing so.)

So here she was, 0.75 miles from his house, running off pure adrenaline, rehearsing the speech she and Sasha had prepared.

“Hi, Eren. I know this is sudden, but I probably should’ve asked you for your number before leaving. I had to come back to Texas for another shoot, so I thought I would stop by.”

Maybe it was partially based on a lie, but tomato, tomato. It would be fine, she would be fine, and she told herself that all of this certainly wouldn’t blow up in her face.

Until that was precisely what happened.

She had been driving down the curve that led up to Eren’s ranch house when she felt the car jerk, suddenly drifting off the road, before halting to a stop, the Low-Pressure light immediately flashing on. As soon as she saw the lights flash on, she immediately knew one of the tires had blown out, leaving her stranded in the pouring rain just outside of Eren’s house.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath. Mikasa leaned her head against the steering wheel, her stomach beginning to pool with regret.

“Do you think it would be weird if I just showed up at his house?”

Yes, Mikasa. It would be weird—it’s fucking insane of you, she thought to herself. And you certainly wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament you are in now if you just called him like any sane other sane person.

Mikasa glanced at her phone, the GPS alerting her she was only 0.25 miles from his house, and the weather app telling her the rain wouldn’t stop for at least the next four hours. 

She sat there weighing her options. 

Call a tow truck, and stick out the wait in her car

Walk to Eren’s house 

Mikasa could see the lights of his house shining through the rain like a lighthouse in a stormy sea, signaling a potential safe return. At this point, she had already risked so much—her pride, her sanity, and almost her life had the tire incident gone any worse—what more did she have to lose?

She shut off the car, grabbed the keys and her phone—leaving her other belongings so if she needed to do a walk of shame back to her car, at least she’d be traveling light—and shoved on a jacket, thankful to whatever higher power she decided to bring one with her on the plane that day. 

Mikasa told herself that if she ran as fast as she could, she would be there quickly, but she didn’t anticipate having to trek through mud, puddles, and essentially pitch black to make it to his front porch. By the time she made it up the steps, her white shoes were ruined, her white tank top was practically see-through, showing every lace detail of her black bra, and her bangs were plastered to her face. (Suddenly, there didn’t seem to be any point in asking how she should do her hair.)

There wasn’t much left to do but ring the doorbell, and at this point, she didn’t have anything left to lose, so she jammed her finger against it, giving herself no opportunity to back out. She heard the chime echo through his house while she stood there fiddling with her thumbs, trying to ring out as much water as she could from her hair, trying to make herself look the least bit presentable.

She heard the low timbre of a man from the other side of the door before the fumbling of the lock and doorknob snapped her attention forward. Mikasa felt her heart get stuck in her stomach as she saw the door pull back, Eren’s tall frame coming into view.

Mikasa had to stop herself from letting her jaw drop when she saw him; the first time she saw him practically paling in comparison to how he looked right now. From the fact that he had no shirt on, allowing her to see just how much muscle he had from all those days he spent working hard, to the sweats that hung low on his hips, leaving little to her imagination. He even looked prettier when he was home, as if the sense of comfort it brought him added an extra glow to his face. 

His hand was clenched around his phone, holding it to his ear when he finally spoke, breaking Mikasa out of her ogling.

“Hey mom, I’m gonna have to call you back later… No ma’am… Yes ma’am, I will. I promise… I love you too… Okay, bye. Talk to you tomorrow.” His voice was velvety when he spoke, something about the way he spoke sweet and rich, a sound Mikasa didn’t think she’d ever get tired of.

Eren stared at her blankly once he hung up the phone, dumbfounded that she was standing on his front porch, not to mention that she was muddy and drenched from the rain. 

The two of them were stuck in a staring contest, neither of them able to formulate words—all of Mikasa’s confidence had suddenly flown out the window, leaving her at a loss for words, because as soon as she opened her mouth, she knew she would be babbling like an idiot.

“Umm… Hi?” Eren said, his greeting coming out more like a question than anything.

“Hi,” Mikasa somehow managed to squeak out. 

“Umm…” He repeated, still at a loss for words.

Mikasa’s mind, a jumbled mess, opted to go for it, knowing her babbling would be better than whatever awkward mess this was. 

“You forgot something,” she said blankly.

Eren looked at her confused, his brows furrowing, “What?”

“You didn’t ask for my number the last time we saw each other. You forgot to ask me for it when I left here,” she said, stepping closer to where he stood in the doorway.

“You wanted me to ask you for your number?” Eren stared at her in disbelief, whether it was because he was shocked at her words or that she dared to show up and say them; Mikasa didn’t know.

“You brought me to your ranch, took me on a ride on horseback underneath the stars, called me beautiful, and then still didn’t ask me for my number. You didn’t even try to kiss me.”

“Did you want me to?” Eren said as his eyes flickered to her lips.

“Do you really think I would fly across the country on a whim and walk a quarter mile in the rain if I didn’t want you to ask me for my number or kiss me, Eren?” Mikasa asked. 

She stood before him, glancing up at him, her face merely inches away from his. She could see how long his lashes looked beneath the porch light, the strands of gold and bronze within his hair, and the plush pink of his lips—right where she could kiss him.

“Mikasa, you walked a quarter mile in the pouring—” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Mikasa pushed herself upward, so her lips met his, her hand steadying itself on his broad chest. He tasted like sweet tea and a touch of Chapstick, his lips as soft as she could have imagined. His hands steadied on her waist, bringing her closer to him. She relished in the way he felt before the reality of the situation began to plague her mind—clarity being her cruelest enemy.

Maybe it was the second-guessing running through her head, but the sudden urge to pull away instantly flooded through her mind before she jerked herself back.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Eren’s voice immediately rang through her ears as she pulled away. “Who said I wanted you to stop?”

“Oh, did you not?”

“You show up on my doorstep with all these questions, then kiss me, and now you’re surprised I wanted to kiss you back?”

“Umm… maybe?”

Eren didn’t give her much time to think before he picked her up and walked her into his house. “How about I let you into my house so you don’t end up sick from being drenched in the rain, get you some dry clothes, and you can ask me all the questions you want?”

“Okay,” she responded shyly, her face flushing red at his directness.

“Never met a girl so pretty and bold before, surely I have to keep you around.”

[nerves-nebula]

hi. Here’s the promised suicide fic. It’s about the reasoning of the process, not the actual act of committing suicide itself, just as a heads up.

He realizes he wants to die early along the line – it’s very hard not to. It’s a wonderful daydream, one where he won’t have to feel quite as tired. An endless sleep, soft and gentle and merciful; everything life isn’t. 

The next step is planning. He spends hours constructing his family’s faces in his mind when they find out  – weeping, enraged, resigned, indifferent. Imagining their judgement leaves him almost embarrassed. It is an inevitability, but it still leaves him wrong-footed. The worst thing about all of it is the thought of his body, limp and bloated, being found and dragged around most of all. He contemplates methods too – most of them seem terribly slow, and therefore get discarded as possibilities. He doesn’t have the guts for it, quite frankly, doesn’t want to flail around or panic when it’s already too late. He’s never quite been as good at handling pain as any of his siblings.

Would he even want to be found at all? There’s ways to mitigate that, he knows. He’s the smart one, he could figure it out. Even a pathetic genius has his uses. Which would be worse for them? 

His reflection period ends slowly. The realization trickles in slowly, until it’s inescapable. It’s quite simple; he is living on borrowed time. He lets life push him along only when he needs to. The others are moving. 

Life slips through his fingers, in an endless blur. He is just waiting for the right moment now. 

His heart stops beating the moment failure becomes more frightening than success. He imagines it. Imagines his weeping brothers by his bedside. The very notion is exhausting. Maybe that’ll be the final straw to get him shipped off to a psychiatrist, wether he wants to or not. He imagines the gossip and wants to claw his ears from out of his skull. It’s a feeling he is utterly tired of, add this to the list of reasons. He’s got more than thirteen, now. It’s not going to be as neat as that either. He isn’t one of those pretty girls and he won’t leave a body like a fallen angel either. Graceful, tragic, beautifully sad. The kind of body he has is far more suited to be found face-down and bloated in the sewers he grew up in, or in pieces on some weirdo biologist’s counter. 

He has a body that gets picked apart and torn through and bloated and stained and smeared on the walls. He’s tired of that one too, tired of being not-quite human or animal or yokai. There is only one great majority he could possibly qualify for, and maybe this is all he’s ever been meant to be. Draxum’s not a bad scientist, but everyone has failed projects. It’s better to catch it early and build it new from ground up, but sometimes you just need to let go. 

It’s alright. He’s always known he wasn’t meant to live. Every litter needs a runt. Every family has black sheep. Soon enough he’ll be gone, and all of that will die with him and it will hurt like hell, but it will be mercy. 

Firstly: AUGHHH yeah that hits the spppot. That’s the good shit. Especially the parts about it feeling inevitable, and feeling like you weren’t meant to live. Like. Yeaghhhh.

Secondly: for some reason this made me think of a scenario where he plans to kill himself and sets up for Bishop to receive his body, since bishop always did wanna dissect him. It’d be kinda funny cuz the turtles would be freaking out and then bishop would show up like “hey guys what’s up”

Or like, Donnie would try to kill himself in a New York alley and Bishop would show up early like “yo it’s cool u wanna donate yourself to science but I’d get better data if you were alive” that’s just sooo funny to me.

Anyway point is: AAAAAAAA thank YOUUU

[cityandking]

game night

oc kiss week '24 // minah/riya + canon divergent (1.1k) riya belongs to @msommers, who suggested this. thanks tabby xo

The game is a bit of a slog, truth be told. There’s an unexpected showing from Leo right at the end, and Rhydian honestly has the bluff down if only he’d just commit, but all in all it’s a tepid thing. Cian folds when he should keep raising—Minah knows he has a good hand, and she’s fairly certain Nanna’s helping him out given how often the mabari circles the table to bark at nothing—and Riya sits puffing next to her, sliding a few dull silver coins into the pot when she should fold. Minah's two sovereigns poorer herself and still more bored than disappointed. It's that sort of night.

Leo calls it in the end. Less for his winnings—it’ll all just go into whatever he cooks next, so really they’re paying it forward to themselves—and more for the hour, which is small and black and tired. The nights have been like that lately, endless and stifling with the weight of the Blight looming over them, but the only thing worse than the heavy night is that moment when they all trail off to their individual bunks to wait for morning alone. Minah tries not to let it get to her—she's a night owl anyway, and long, sleepless nights mean more folk around looking for entertainment, which means a laugh or a game or a bit of coin.

But tonight is slow, and drab, and heavy. Endless.

“It’s late,” Cian echoes, almost apologetic as Leo stands and slides his winnings into his purse. He rises with a stretch and a somewhat disconcerting pop. “And I don’t think need to lose any more money. Not that this wasn’t fun, but…”

Nanna bounds to him as soon as he starts gathering his things, making a brief pit stop to get a scratch from Leo. Riya stays seated at the table, counting her losings.

“You can always win it back,” Minah invites. Rydian’s flat mouth presses down even flatter as he gets up, and Cian gives her a look like he knows exactly how much shit she’s full of. It’s a familiar sort of resignation, and it brings out half a smile at least. “Or not. Just an invitation.”

She doesn't say, What else are you going to spend it on? but the sentiment is there.

“Same time next week?” Leo offers, which is decision enough for everyone. Minah tips him a salute, two fingered and loose, and he waves them goodnight. Riya tucks her purse away, a little slower to head out than the rest of them. Not quite ready to sleep, maybe.

“Chin up,” Minah says, nudging at her with a knee. “You didn’t lose as badly as you could have.”

“What a relief,” Riya drawls. “I always prefer to only lose a little.”

"If you've got another game you'd prefer, I'm all ears."

"I don't mind cards."

"But you'd rather something else."

Riya slides a look her her, slantwise and a little sour. "You said it, not me," she returns, sweetness of her tone at perfect odds with her expression. Minah snorts.

"D'you not enjoy my tender hospitality?"

"Is it tender?"

"I like to think so."

Near the door, Cian pauses, looking back at them with a question written across his face. Minah waves him off, all assurance. They’ll turn in in their own time. He hesitates a moment longer, but Nanna is insistent about bedtime, and there’s really no dissuading her when she gets an idea in her head. Rhydian follows on their heels, and Leo is already long gone, keeping his old man hours. He’ll be up before any of them, probably.

It leaves the two of them quite alone, siting at the table with nothing but a deck of cards and the weight of the night.

"Maybe I could help, if you'd rather something else," Minah says, leaning back in her chair. It must be nearly third watch, but the game has done nothing to burn off that nudging tremor of worry that sits in her chest. Riya, though...

"Did you have something in mind?"

“I might have a few suggestions.” Minah prides herself in that. Maybe they aren't talking about the hazy stormcell of apprehension lingering over the city, or the slow, sunny rotting they’re all doing, aware of the horde at the edges of their collective consciousness but slow to strike, but they all feel it. It’s a sticky, heavy sort of summer. Who couldn’t use a distraction, really?

"I'm all ears," Riya says, and something about the way she says it, all dragged out and inviting, draws Minah's attention in a new, different way. She gives Riya a look, long and contemplative, and— It's not the worst idea. She's done stupider things in her time.

"I'm just not sure our types of entertainment mesh," Minah deflects, a little to be an ass, mostly to see if Riya will push it. She gets a look in return, equally assessing, and Riya settles her chin in the palm of her hand.

"I'm not opposed to trying something new."

Minah shrugs. She says, "Alright." And she leans over for a kiss.

Riya kisses about like Minah expects—adroit, thorough, like she knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Minah lets her lead, more interested in seeing where this goes than in bringing it anywhere in particular. Besides, its been a while since she's spent time with someone who knows what they're doing, and Riya—in spite of everything else—most certainly knows what she's doing.

"So what do you think?" Minah asks when they part, a little more breathless than anticipated. There's a familiar thrill under her skin. "More to your liking?"

"I didn't think those particular cards were on the table," Riya returns, touching the corner of her mouth. Minah tracks the motion of her hand and the way her lips curve in a smirk at the attention, and she tamps down on the familiar spark of irritation. She expects that, though—and it's always easier to weather Riya when one is prepared for her to be insufferable.

"If you're not interested—"

"I didn't say that," Riya corrects. "I'm just surprised."

Minah shrugs. There's not that much to be surprised about. She's bored, buzzing and disinterested in hunting down other entertainment, and curious in a terrible sort of way. And Riya is here and bored and interesting. It's fairly simple arithmetic.

"You're thinking too hard," Minah says, and she punctuates it with a kiss right at the corner of Riya's mouth, right where her fingers sat a moment ago. Leaves it there like bait. "Don't take it too personally. You're not the only one who likes other sorts of games."

She leans past Riya to grab the deck, shuffling them and tucking them into her pocket, and she's halfway out of her chair when a hand touches her knee, slides up the outside of her leg to rest at her hip. Minah glances down, waiting.

"If you want to play," Riya says, and Minah drags her up, cards forgotten. It's a long while before either of them turn in for the night.

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING part. 27

HIII new chapter here. We are coming to an end!

MASTERLIST

a mini Woody for you.

27. Stay alive

Haymitch and Plutarch talk for half an hour, and after that he goes with him to Coin so you fall asleep. Your eyes close just because you are exhausted, it’s not like you are relaxed: you are terrified.

You can’t believe President Snow resigned. You were sure he was going to bomb everything just to spite the districts or something like that, but apparently not.

You wake up after two hours to keep company to Perla, who’s in the hospital, and since you are there you want to see Prim and the other kids, but when you are dressing yourself two strong arms hug you from behind. A familiar scent of woods, cheap soap and sweat surrounds you and you automatically smile. 

«I have five minutes.» Haymitch begins kissing your earlobe because he might have five minutes but he has to kiss you. You wonder when the kisses shifted from something you wanted to something you needed.

«Happy or worried?» You want to know. Snow falling is something you expected after the last bombs, what is unexpected is that he didn’t give the order to do something in case he was captured. Did he just surrender? The big bad wolf? That is so strange. Not a plan B, plan C, plan D? 

«Worried for now, but it will end soon.» He whispers in your ear. «I have to protect the kid.» 

«Katniss?» 

He kisses your neck with rumorous pecks that you suspect can distract a microphone, or maybe you are just as paranoid as him. 

«She's in danger. They are not happy with her.» Or with your man. Or with you. Or with anyone who doesn't follow their orders blindly.

«Prim?» You turn around to face him. Since you’ll be at the hospital you want to visit your students as well. Prim is the hardest to look at. A coma, at twelve. A coma. She might never come back.

«Stable. Ehi.» He hugs you so much it kinda hurts, but he needs it so much. You can see he craves comfort right now. «Still my girl?»

«Always your girl.» You whisper against his skin. «I know you don’t want to hear it but you should sleep. I slept for two hours and I’m exhausted, you stayed with me, then you talked  with Plutarch and you didn’t rest… it’s not good for your heart.» You caress his chest, a little anxious.

«Worried about your things, Gorgeous?» He looks at you with sleepy eyes, but a wolfish grin on his face.

«Uuh, that was smooth. You still have your game, Mr. Abernathy.» And you admit seeing him so loving and affectionate, and so, so tired, does something to your heart. And that grin does something to other parts of you. «Can you still rest? For me?»

He presses his forehead on yours, closing his eyes for a moment. «Katniss needs me now. When this madness ends I’ll sleep for a year.»

«When this madness ends we’ll eat so many pastries. Just pastries, every lunch, every dinner and every breakfast. And we’ll sleep until afternoon.» You play along. 

«When this madness ends you’ll come live with me.» He decides. You try not to be happy about it, you don’t want to spoil the moment, it has been so natural. Like a decision he just made. He probably thought about it for a month, listing what could go wrong living together. But he decided it was worth it. You are worth it.

«Oh, noticing the perks of morning sex, are we?» You mock him, a bright smile all over your face. It is better to light up the conversation, feelings are not something you talk about at Twelve. You are more used to it, but he is commitment phobic and what he just admitted it’s enough.

«I want to wake up and make sure you are real.» He kisses your hand and you melt at his words and his touch. «And yes, I also want you for breakfast every morning.» 

He lingers on your lips a little too much. He is always passionate, but seeing him this tender is new. Scary, even. «Haymitch, is everything oka-»

«I love you.» He blurts out. He spits it out like it’s something horrible he just confessed. He loves you.

He LOVES you? He loves you. Oh dear heavens, he loves you. 

He loves you! You love him and he loves you! 

«I love you too. So, so much.» Now you never smiled so much. Suddenly everything is forgotten: Snow’s surrender, Snow being captured, the danger, the war. For a moment, just for a moment everything is blank except for you two and when you kiss you feel like the stars are shining brighter.

Then you draw back and you raise an eyebrow. «Are we dying?»

He smiles briefly. «No. Can’t I tell my girl how I feel about her?» 

So it’s real. It’s so real. And you don’t want to jinx it, you feel it’s almost too good to be true, it’s not fair now. Is he telling you because he thinks Coin is trying to do something to him? Is he in danger? Well, more than the usual amount of danger. 

«Because it’s so easy for you. No, we are definitely dying.» You grin and you press yourself against him for the last time. «Can you tell me again?» 

«Mh, not sure. I don’t want to spoil you.» He jokes but he accepts your eager kisses. «I have to go to Katniss…» 

«I have to go to the hospital.» You resonate, but then you let out a giggle. «You love me…»

«I’ll never hear the end of it, won’t I?» He rolls his eyes.

«No but you won’t mind, because you love me.»

At the hospital you actually start working before your work hours. You change bandages for the kids, trying not to cry because you actually know them, and you can see Primrose. Your hands shake a little when you are finished with her and you can go to your friend. You try to do your job, but you remember all the time she spoke to you. She is - and you refuse to say was - so gentle, so kind. 

Perla is in bad shape. The mission left her with bruises all over her face and body, maybe more than the Hunger Games. Seeing her in a hospital bed is odd, she is the one who’s always strong, the fighter. Now she looks so young. Her big blue eyes are closed and her expression is peaceful, her brown hair loose on the pillow. 

A girl. Not a warrior, a tribute, a rebel. A girl. 

You love Effie, but you are not at the same level. She is older than you, she literally had your life in her hands for a while, so it’s like a mentor, a teacher. Perla and you are at the same level, you have the same age, same experience. Seeing her like that, knowing it could have been you, actually shakes you. You want to do something, just something to ease her pain. She already has water near the bed, and a book. 

Cinna is next to her, on a chair. He is sketching something, probably an uniform for the revolution or a dress for Katniss, but he has dark circles around the eyes and his hand is shaking a little. He doesn’t even have gold eyeshadows like he used to when the world was literally in a dictatorship and he was risking his life on a daily basis creating Katniss’s outfits to defeat Snow.

Losing Perla is somehow scarier? Or you are just creating things out of nowhere, you can never guess with your mind. It tends to fill the blank spaces with assumptions.

«Go to sleep.» You suggest, «I’ll stay with her.»

«No need.» He murmurs, quite rude you may add, then it’s like he wakes up and he smiles at you. «I’m sorry. I was saying I can stay with her.»

«Of course you can, but I can stay with her. Just for an hour. You need to sleep.» He is outworn. He gets up, clearly not sure about what is the right thing to do. You try not to feel insulted, but you are a safe person! They let you stay with children. Well, for a while, not anymore. But still.

«I should go to Katniss.» He thinks, but you shake your head. 

«Haymitch is with Katniss. Go to your bed, now.» He is torn.

«Listen to her.» Perla tells him. Her voice is so brief you almost didn’t hear it. She woke up yesterday, she is not in a coma and yet you are so relieved when you see her open her eyes. Cinna dares to kiss her forehead and he goes away, leaving you with a nod.

«Ehi…» You watch her, and she’s fine enough to be embarrassed by his kiss, which you presume is a good sign.

«Ehi, Dai.» She whispers. You take her hand. 

«How are you?»

«It stings a little.» A little. It stings a little. She is the one who got it bad, apart from the one who died of course, and she says it “stings” a little. Sometimes you are kind of scared of how she is career-based, sometimes you are envious, sometimes you are proud (because, let’s face it, it’s pretty hot and badass) and sometimes you are just sad for her. Must be hard to be the tough one all the time. 

«I bet.» You snuggle with her in the bed. If she has something against it she doesn’t say anything, so you think that maybe, maybe you are helping her a little by showing affection. She can pretend she hates it.

«Lora?» She asks after a while, in the meantime you are quite absorbed braiding her hair.  

«Is sleeping. They said she needed to sleep a lot.» You explain. Lora is not at the hospital anymore, but she’s not in great shape either. The doctors ordered her to avoid any kind of stress, which is hard in a war.

«Poor baby.» She comments on it, and she flinches at the glare. «What?»

«You are in a hospital bed.» You point out, but Perla only scoffs. 

«But I can handle it.» And that’s the end, even if it’s not true, because she can’t bear a conversation now. So you change the subject on something lighter, something that annoys her a little but it’s harmless.

«He is crazy for you.» You notice. Cinna is the last person you thought could be in a relationship, but it actually works. He watches Perla like she hanged the moon and that is the only way Perla deserves to be seen. 

«Nonsense.» She blushes again.

«Oh c’mon! He stayed. He didn’t sleep, he was here when you were sleeping.» You try to argue, but she only makes a face.

«Creepy.» She deadpans.

«Romantic.» And, you feel a little stupid for saying that, but he is so handsome. Not like Finnick who is all pretty or Haymitch who is rough and a temptation, he is good looking in a safe way. He is… husband material. And he could be a great friend, in fact, he is a Haymitch friend, and if they are friends… there’s nothing stopping you from…

«Stop this little head of yours. No double dates, no dates at all, no romanticism. I’m not like this.» You pout. She is a damn witch or you are an open book.  

«You are supposed to rest.» You mumble, a little defeated. A double date after this madness would end is a great idea. 

«Then don’t talk about it.»

«I’m sorry.» You kiss her shoulder. «I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Be rested.»

«You are insufferable.» She rolls her eyes, but you see a glimpse of amusement and endearment under that.

«You misspelt “Adorable”.» You smirk.

«Wait a week so I regain my strength and I’ll strangle you.» She sighs. «I really thought I was dying out there.»

«What the hell happened?» 

«All the blood… all the kids, Daisy, from the Capitol, from the Districts. Snow ordered the Capitol citizens to move in his palace to be safe, and then he dropped the bombs. It was a nightmare. I really hope Snow dies.» Your face grows in horror, but there is something that doesn’t add up. What kind of plan was that?

«Wait a minute, Snow ordered everyone to move into his palace and then dropped the bombs that killed his people?» You try to understand it better, but the more you think about it the less it’s a skilled plan. As much as you hate him, he is intelligent.

«So when volunteers from the districts came to help, another bomb dropped. It was like… little bombs dropped with parachutes, like gifts from sponsors.» She explains it, but now you feel the need to spill it out.

«That doesn’t make any fucking sense.»

«I think he did it out of spite. He knew he was dying and he wanted to take a lot of people with him.» He did that out of spite, but then when he was captured he didn’t try anything else. That’s not a person that does something out of spite. You of all people know it.

«Weird. That’s not Snow’s typical behaviour.» You sit up. «And why was Prim Everdeen with the volunteers?»

«She is a nurse, she wants to help.» 

«She is a student. She is the Mockingjay’s sister.» I have to help Katniss, they are not happy with her. You get up, a little confused, but in that moment Finnick comes into the room, and after a hug you leave Perla with him.

You can’t possibly look for Haymitch in the headquarters, you are kind of public enemy number one, but when he goes out of the room with Katniss to see Prim you drag him out immediately. 

He is puzzled, but he trusts you. When you are in his room, you quickly get naked.

«That’s why you wanted to see me? Sweetheart, it’s not the right time…» He tries to resonate with you, confused.

«Please, let’s get in the shower. No clothes.» The look on your face is nothing sensual, and he gets it. He gets it because he is a fucking genius. They can bug the room, even the bathroom, but the water noises in the shower are impossible to overcome. And if you are naked you can have a microphone on you, a thing that you may suspect is in every uniform, in a button or a hidden pocket you didn’t find.

You try to stay out of the water, who is now cold because you already used your minutes of hot water per day, but you hug him to whisper even more lightly. 

«What happened?» He asks, and if he was confused before he is now scared as hell. For you, for him, for Katniss… he has a lot of people to be scared for.

«Snow didn’t bomb the kids. I’m not saying he is good, but it doesn’t make sense.» You quickly explain your doubts, and his face grows harder. You don’t dare to say Coin’s name, even if it’s obvious. 

«So if you are implying what I think, Katniss is in danger.»

«Katniss is the first to go because she doesn’t need a hero anymore, and she could use a martyr.» You hug him tighter. «But we all are. We all are in danger.» 

You are so scared now that your trembling is not from the cold shower, and you are grateful when he hugs you and kisses your neck and shoulders. 

«We did this thing and we can undo it.» He murmurs against your lips. 

«”We did this thing”, you mean when you overthrew a tyranny, saving the district? You used what you had.» You don’t need a guilt trip now and it doesn’t make sense. No District Thirteen, no revolution. It’s easy. But now that you have a revolution you don’t need Thirteen anymore.

«So… we really are in the last row, mh?» 

«I’m asking you just one thing, Haymitch.» You kiss him, a chaste peck. «Stay alive.»

---

taglist: @crimsonincursive

[ownworldresident]

Side by Side Chapter 9: Renewal

Me: 'promises to post weekly' ... 'vanishes for three weeks' ... 'still loves you all I promise' now back to schedule...

Book: The Royal Romance.

Premise: With new additions to their family, King Liam and Rayne must re-evaluate their relationship dynamic.

Themes: Found family, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, family.

Word Count: 3.2k per chapter, 18 chapters. About 60k.

Note: This story started just after TRR3 ended, and isn't related to TRH. See also Side by Side Masterlist & Master Masterlist Link

Rayne

A private balcony waited for Rayne and Liam when they arrived at the restaurant. They ordered the waiter's recommendation and their drinks were swiftly followed by a dish of local fish; Rayne made a mental note to send compliments to the chef.

Everyone was friendly, and reminded Rayne with a small pang of resignation that the only people who weren't were at the palace.

"What are you thinking?' asked Liam as she sighed.

"How refreshing it is to be here," she answered, smiling. Liam's own smile crinkled his eyes, and he seemed happy with her answer.

Their conversation was light -deliberately, Rayne thought- and as they ate she looked over the bay, pristine dark waters and lights along the marina… the simple beauty reminded her of a less complicated time, before she made that decision. Before she plunged them into this mess.

When next she looked at Liam he was watching her, a nervous half-smile on his face. They had reached a lull in their conversation, new drinks had arrived, and her meal sat comfortably in her stomach. She felt tired after the meal, and made another note to restock her vitamins. The routine was a comfort but also another boundary, a reminder. She was nearing 30 now; Liam had crossed that threshold while she was pregnant, but it didn't seem to have affected him as much as it did her. In his heart he had always known his path, with some minor deviations. Her feelings were a little more complicated.

"So, what did you need to tell me that required dinner at a restaurant and a new dress?" she smiled as she said it, but the expression faded when Liam didn’t reflect it. She reached across the table and laid a hand on his. "Liam, why are you so nervous?"

"I suppose…" Liam blinked back to the present and met her eyes. "It's significant news. I want you to know that nothing about us has to change, okay?"

Rayne swallowed. "You're scaring me. What could you have to say that would change things between us?"

Liam took a deep breath, and a smile settled on his face.

"I divorced Madeline."

For a moment, the only thing in the world were those words. Rayne stared somewhere over Liam's shoulder, transported back to the reverse of them. 'You married Madeline' had been the barrier for them for so long….

She blinked, but the next memory that surfaced was finding Liam unconscious in his office.

"Of course you did…" she said quietly, her mouth suddenly dry.

"There wasn't any other choice this time," Liam continued. "I think we both knew that."

He squeezed her hand, and brought her focus back to him.

"This will change a lot of things, but I don't want you to feel like our relationship has to be one of them. I'm not going to ask to commit to something you don't want."

He curled his hand around hers and laced their fingers together. He was warm, and steady, but there was a strain in his voice. Rayne's eyes fell on their intertwined hands, her other hand trembling in her lap.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling as if a veil was tearing from the world she had constructed. Liam should have freed himself from that woman a long time ago, but he had stayed because of Rayne… she squeezed her eyes shut. "I should never have convinced you to stay married to her. If I hadn't… if I'd just…" she looked up to him again, eyes hot. "You deserved so much better."

To her surprise, he chuckled.

"It's true you are stubborn," he said, "but I'm sorry to say you aren't so much a force that I can't make my own decisions. I chose to remain in that arrangement, and to marry Madeline. Do you remember when we were on the engagement tour, and I asked if you would stay with me, even if I married her?"

Not trusting herself with a verbal response, Rayne nodded.

"Well that was selfish of me. I shouldn't have put you in that position. The fact that you said yes, emphatically at that…"

"Of course I stayed," Rayne breathed, surprised. "You were frightened when you asked me that, but that isn't the reason I stayed. I made my decision long before you were married. You know that, don't you?"

After a moment, Liam sighed, and nodded.

“That won’t stop me from feeling some guilt at the position I put you in. And so many things since then... but I wanted to come out tonight because I think you deserve a break, and Clair’s arrival helped you free up some time.” He reached across to take Rayne’s other hand, meeting her eyes a moment before continuing. “Nothing in life gives me greater pleasure than the time I spend with you and our children. My situation doesn’t change how I feel about you, and we don’t have to look tidy from the outside to be happy.” He smiled, and Rayne cursed her decision to wear make-up; in the face of Liam’s generosity, she felt tears welling again and pulled one hand back to wipe at her eyes.

The difference in Liam occurred to her then. He was usually calm and always affectionate, but this version of him was lighter, freer, without the weight of his relationship with Madeline. This version cast a dark shadow over the man she thought had been happy for the last year. Had he been happy? Or had he been struggling more under that burden than he had admitted? Had she underestimated the toll that such a division cost him?

“Rayne, are you okay?”

She had been the one to stay, to encourage him to maintain the arrangement, to pretend he was okay when he very, very clearly hadn’t been.

“I’m happy for you. I hope that… I hope…" Rayne stopped as a lump rose in her throat. She stood. Liam frowned, uncertain, watching her closely..

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, it’s just that…” she looked away from him at their surroundings. The table was beautifully set, the meal had been amazing, the view was spectacular, the night was calm, and it was just for the two of them.

“I don’t deserve this,” Rayne gestured to their surroundings, “after everything I’ve done to you, I don’t deserve any of this.” She wiped a few more tears from her eyes, trying to contain her emotion. She didn’t hear or see him stand, but when his arms came around her she fell into them. All pretence evaporated, and she was the Rayne who had cried when she had been taken from the Coronation ball; the Rayne who had cried every night at the Beaumont estate, and the first week of the engagement tour.

She fell back to a time before her skin was thick. Everything came forth, and she grasped handfuls of his shirt to hold herself up.

Liam’s arms tightened around her, and Rayne knew then that she was not okay, that she had not been okay for a long time. Too much had been ignored, and not only had she not allowed herself to really feel, but she had inflicted that on Liam.

“It’s alright,” Liam said gently. “It’s alright, I’m here.” His voice strained, and Rayne’s sobs grew louder as she shook her head and tried to answer.

“I’m - so - sorry - Liam,” she cried into his chest, and then she felt his arms shaking, his whole body shaking, and wrapped her arms around him in kind.

“It’s… it’s okay. You’re… we…” she felt him take a shaky breath. “I love you so much.”

Rayne tried to answer, but her body was overcome as she cried, and he cried, and she didn’t know how long they stood there before they ran out of tears. And then they held each other as if they hadn’t in months, and maybe they hadn’t, not like this. Eventually, she pulled back, and looked up at him. His eyes were red, and his cheeks glistened with tears. Rayne knew she must look the same sans his smile. Her makeup was smeared on his damp shirt, and the corner of her mouth curved up just a little at that.

“Sorry,” she said, biting her lip. Liam followed her gaze to his shirt, then huffed a small laugh, and pulled her close again.

“I meant what I said. I am never as happy elsewhere as I am with you and the twins, and nothing about what we have has to change.”

She nodded against him, listening to the steady pace of his heart.

“I dream about it sometimes,” she started, swallowing the lump in her throat and looking up again, “about that day at Ramsford, when I said I didn’t want to be queen.” And his expression when he had realised what she was saying.

Liam smiled now. “I know.”

“You know? How?” Even as she said it the answer occurred to her. “Do I talk in my sleep?”

“Yes.” Liam pressed his lips to her forehead and she closed her eyes at the touch. “Can I ask you something?’ He searched her eyes, and she did the same, a flutter of nerves in her chest as she tried to discern the question.

“Yes.”

“Do you regret that decision?”

There was no room in her for another emotional response.

“Yes.” Rayne wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but to his credit he simply nodded, as if it had been inconsequential and not the biggest turning point in their relationship, and waited for her to continue. “I regret it for the pain it has caused you, and for encouraging you to stay with Madeline. I was angry, and upset, and scared, and I’m sorry. It was wrong of me.” She looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes. He had paid dearly for her decision. Liam lifted her chin to face him again.

“I didn’t mean to imply that your decision was a mistake. I only wished to know where your pain was, so I could help you.” He moved his other hand to caress her cheek, and she leant into his touch. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, my love. To be there for you, as you have been there for me, so many times.”

The understanding of where they stood settled as they looked at each other. The night was quiet, and the only sounds were distant chatter of the diners downstairs, the gentle waves against the marina, and their own even breathing.

“I love you.” Rayne smiled and looped her arms around his neck.

“And I you.” Liam moved one hand lower on her waist, the other up to her neck, and she closed her eyes and met his lips halfway, and the world faded around them. It wasn’t deep, it was gentle and slow, and when they parted she was breathless. Liam cupped her face and ran a thumb across her cheek, then kissed her again, briefly, and leant his forehead against hers. They stayed like that, enthralled in the intensity of the moment, until Rayne’s body got the best of her, and she shivered.

Concern flitted across Liam’s face. "You're cold."

"A little."

"Let's go home."

They kept their fingers intertwined on the seat between them in the car ride home. They didn’t talk much, not much needed to be said, and Rayne spent the time reflecting on what had passed between them on that balcony.

Entering directly to the royal wing, they walked together through silent, familiar halls.

“I am very sure your friend has taken over our bed,” Liam said calmly when they reached that hallway . Rayne chuckled.

“I have no doubt she has.” She leaned against him as they walked. “Wherever shall we sleep?”

“There is always our old bed,” he replied as they reached the door to the royal suite, his own rarely used rooms. Rayne squeezed his arm.

“I’m sure Clair won’t mind caring for Leo and Evie for the night.” She winced at her own words, glancing back toward her door.

"Did you want to go and check on the twins?" Liam asked, noticing her apprehension.

"No," she answered after a moment's consideration. "I trust her." She would have to apologise for not warning Clair of this possibility. It was likely, if Rayne knew her at all, that she had assumed they would stay in Liam’s suite.

“I’m glad you feel comfortable allowing someone else to care for them,” Liam said as he reached for his door key. Rayne, however, was already holding her own.

“I didn’t realise you still carried it with you.”

“I always do.” Rayne returned his smile. It might not be regularly used, but the suite was something of a comfort for her and the twins, in a wing that wasn't entirely comfortable for her. And it smelled like Liam. "So am I," she added, to answer his earlier remark.

Once inside she locked the door and tucked the key in her dress, turning to see a grin on Liam's face that she hadn't seen in some time. He pulled her into a warm embrace, and she leant up to kiss him.

"We needed this," he murmured against her lips, then pulled back to add, "but I don't think either of us would have admitted it."

"No," Rayne said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder as he held her again. "We wouldn't have. "

Earlier in their relationship, Rayne supposed their clothes would be half on the floor by the time they reached the bedchamber. As it was, she was tired, and so was Liam. She had a feeling he was as lost in thought as she. They parted wordlessly inside the door and entered their individual walk-in wardrobes to change.

When she removed her make-up, which was a mortifying mess, and removed her dress, she smiled at the lacy underwear Clair had forced her to wear.

"Not tonight," she said to the mirror, running a hand over the scar on her abdomen, not quite as tender as it had been but still sensitive. Blinking back to focus, she switched the underwear for more comfortable pyjamas before returning to find Liam had done the same.

"What would our friends think of us?" Rayne smirked.

"Does it matter?" Liam raised an eyebrow, then closed the distance between them and swept her off the ground in a sudden burst of energy. Rayne laughed as he spun her and set her down, ending the spin with a deeper kiss and pulling her tight against him.

“I guess not,” Rayne said, smiling. “You aren’t as tired as I thought.”

“Oh I definitely am as tired as you think.” Liam brushed his nose against hers and kissed her again. “But I haven’t done that in a while and needed to make sure I still could.”

Rayne beamed at him, then held him close, closing her eyes as the small burst faded and her tiredness set in again. “Bed, please.”

“As you wish.” Liam picked her up again, more gently this time. He set her down on what had always been her side of the bed, then came around to climb under the covers as she did. Rayne curled up against him, instantly warm.

“I love you,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. Rayne smiled, and slept better than she had in a long time.

Liam

Late the next morning, Liam left Rayne sleeping to check on Evie and Leo. Clair had had them for almost twelve hours now and he rarely went that long without seeing them.

Entering Rayne’s suite, he took a moment to adjust to the dark, and froze when he saw something move on the lounge. Frowning, he flipped the light switch, and recognised the messy head of blond hair.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, not loud enough to wake the twins if by chance they were sleeping. His brother turned over with sleepy eyes, squinting at the light. He smiled as he sat and pulled off the blanket.

“Waiting for you of--” he yawned, rubbing his eyes “--of course.”

Liam sighed, shaking his head. “A likely story. Rayne’s friend? Seriously Leo? This is the reason you weren’t told when she would be here.”

“The fault is on Rayne, I’m afraid,” he rolled his shoulders back and shrugged. “Her friend is cute.”

“You better not have slept in Rayne’s bed,” he said in a warning tone. Leo chuckled.

“I would never do that, little brother. Like I said, I just wanted to see how things went with Rayne.” He frowned. “Why do you call it her bed anyway? You sleep there as well.”

Before Liam could think of an answer, Clair appeared in the doorway.

“Are you still here?” she asked Leo. Evie was in her arms, looking around the room curiously. Clair smiled at Liam before raising an amused brow toward his brother.

“Why do I have to explain myself so much? I’m a devoted older brother and I wanted to see how things went last night. Judging by that stupid grin on his face, I’d say pretty well.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Clair chuckled. “Jury’s out.” She carefully handed Evie to Liam when he came to take her.

“Thank you for taking care of these two,” he said, pressing a light kiss to Evie’s head and gently rubbing her back. He turned back to Leo. “I guess when Rayne wakes up you can get a second ruling.” he smiled. “And where’s your stupid grin, Leo?”

“He foolishly thought he might find it here.” Clair smirked and winked at Leo, who sighed and shook his head.

“On behalf of Rayne, myself and our bed,” said Liam, “I am very glad he didn’t.”

Leo shrugged. “As I said, only concerned about my brother.” He clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder as he walked past, speaking quietly. “Later, okay?”

“Later.” Liam nodded.

--- ---

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When life has other plans (8/16)

Tolerate it

Book: Open Heart (AU)

Characters: Ethan Ramsey, F!MC Casey Valentine

Warnings: language

Category: Angst

Word count: 1982

Summary: A new normal is found hastily. The changes pique the curiosity of a colleague. A blast from Ethan’s past leaves him torn as to what to do

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Authors note: It is not the end of the drama ok. It is me I will give you a truck load of angst and then give you a happy ending. This series has a happy ending ok. I need to look at my plan again as I changed a little bit the finding out and fallout.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Casey made it home. She arrived at the same time as Aurora.

“What is up Casey?” She asks tentatively.

Casey tells Aurora everything, from the collapse due to the pain, to Ethan coming across her and him finding about the pregnancy and abortion and the heated discussion they had. Aurora listened and refrained from saying that you should have told him. She knew that was the last thing she needed to hear right now. Casey had a light breakfast and went to her room. She was still tired from the day before. After a shower she went to hop into bed.

There was a message from Ethan wanting to know if she arrived home safely. She left it on read and went to sleep.

Meanwhile, at Edenbrook Ethan was off. The lack of sleep and his discussion with Casey was catching up with Ethan. As such his temper was shorter than usual. Naveen had his regular head of department meeting with Ethan today and straight away he knew something was up.

“What is wrong and don’t you dare say nothing.”

Ethan sighed in resignation.

“I had no sleep last night, just a bit too tired but Casey was not well…”

“Casey? Not well? Is she ok?”

“She was pregnant, and decided to terminate the pregnancy and not tell me.”

Naveen was silent for a few minutes.

“I am sure she had her reasons…”

“Yes she did Naveen, I was in Brazil when she found out and she did not want to leave a voicemail or text so she decided not to tell me. I do not think she was anticipating this medication not working.”

“If she had told you would the outcome had been the same?”

“I do not know. We had decided that our arrangement would end before I went to Brazil, we had both agreed at the time we would go to a pre-Miami footing but I realized after a few weeks down there that I did not want that and was thinking of possible work arounds if Casey wanted a relationship too.”

“Having a child is a big commitment as well…”

“I know Naveen, she called herself an obligation.”

“Is this going to affect the team moving forward?” Asks Naveen.

“You know I can compartmentalize with the best of them by. So I do not see any major issues going forward, however I will let you know if there is.”

Naveen nodded. They discussed the team, the patient from yesterday and work in general. Ethan felt lighter for having told someone. He also knew Naveen would not plaster it all over the hospital. Meanwhile, after Ethan left, Naveen felt saddened. He had seen Ethan put his career ahead of personal relationships many times. He knew that there was a valid concern with reporting lines and the rabid gossip but he had hoped Casey would be different. Also he was saddened about Casey’s ordeal also. He sent some flowers to her house.

The day after came. Casey still had some abdominal pain but it was to be expected. She went to work. She saw Naveen on her way in and she thanked him for the flowers. Casey presumed that Ethan had told him but said nothing. Naveen stated that if there was anything she needed to let him know. Casey was appreciative. She made her way to the team office. Ethan was there alone.

“Good morning Dr Ramsey.” She said as she entered. Ethan was surprised to see her.

“How are you feeling…” he falters when he sees the look on her face.

“I am fine, Ethan.” She says curtly. He winces at the tone.

“Well, we have what you wished for. I thought you would be happy.”

“What so I can not enquire about your welfare?”

“Sorry Dr Ramsey, everything is still a little too raw right now.”

“I do not consider you a burden, Dr Valentine. Nor would I do anything out of ‘obligation’”

Casey nods. “As I said, everything is a little raw, it will take me time to process.”

Ethan nods, hoping that once all the dust settles, a friendship and a less terse normality will be found.

Time went on and Casey and Ethan both begrudgingly settled into their perceived want of a pre Miami footing. Deep down they both hated it but they neither party was willing to admit to the other that they hated it. The change from Casey’s first day to what was now normal between the two of them did not go unnoticed by Dr June Hirata. June was not a fan of the competition when it was announced and Aurora Emery being on top of the competition was no surprise and confirmed her initial suspicion that it was a way for Dr Harper Emery to give her niece a leg up but as the competition went on there was a new top

Intern. Ethan had already been acting suspicious and appearing more tired but not long before Casey was on top he appeared more rested, despite appearing to be at the hospital more than he needed to be. Then the rumours started. She was not sure what to think about them. She did not think Ethan to be the type to sleep with someone to give favour but she could not rule out it. She was also suspicious of the sabbatical, sure if he did apply when he quit surely he could have gotten out of it but then she met her, did as she was told and confirmed the diagnosis on the first day but now there was tension. It struck her odd. How was this change going to affect the team? She had to admit though that Casey did have plenty of knowledge and did work well within the team despite whatever was happening between Ethan and Casey.

June was eager for information and her chance came when they had a perplexing case. The case of Lamar Stevenson. It was an interesting and a complex case. He was losing motor skill and could not identify multiple points of contact but we could not figure out what was happening. A home visit was suggested. Lamar’s wife, Lorraine consented to the visit but the team were deciding who would go. Baz had too many patients and June suggested that Casey accompany Ethan. They go to the Stevenson’s house. The ride to Quincy Bay started off with a very awkward silence which both of them hated. Eventually Casey broke the silence asking about what normally happens with a home visit. Ethan stated that they focus on key areas, to ascertain further what they have been told but to also to look for anything that stands out that could help solve the case. They arrive at the house and go through the main areas. Casey is in the main bedroom, standing on a chair to try and reach some photo albums. Ethan stood close. As Casey reached an album and overbalanced. Ethan caught her. They looked in each others eyes for awhile, Casey swore she saw a hint of desire among all the emotions. Ethan wanted to kiss her so much.

“This is not a competition to see how long you can hold me” said Casey, breaking the spell.

“Of course” said Ethan. They look at the album and Casey notes the lack of Lamar’s photos. Ethan does not find it completely odd but gets where Casey is going. They collect the samples and lock up and head back to the hospital.

Casey heads off and does her rounds. After awhile she makes her way back to the DT office to see if there are any dates. She comes across a familiar looking older gentleman who looks lost.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I am looking for Ethan Ramsey, I have not seen him here since he moved office and I am lost.”

“I am headed to that office, are you a patient of his?”

“I am sometimes but not today, I am his dad.” He offers his hand. “Alan Ramsey.”

Casey shakes it, “Dr Valentine but you can call me Casey.”

A glimmer of recognition lights up Alan. “Ahh, the rookie.” Says Alan with a slight chuckle. “It is not very often that he refers to an intern well I suppose resident now by any name. It is nice to put a face to it.”

Casey did not know what to think about this. They arrived at the office and it is empty. Alan looks dejected but Casey tracks down Danny and he says that Dr Ramsey has left the building. Alan looks even more dejected and wished he had called ahead. Casey could see he looked upset. “I have an idea where he could be and Casey and Alan made their way to Derry Roasters. They spoke about working with Ethan and how he sees the world. Alan could see why his son was so taken by Casey. She was intelligent, appeared driven and he had to admit attractive. They arrived at the coffee shop and they saw Ethan. They made their way over and Ethan was surprised to see them both.

“What brings you up dad?” Asked Ethan.

“I had a phone call, it was your mother…”

“Ethan tensed. Casey tries to leave and Alan stops her, insisting that he buy her a coffee. Casey sits down while Alan gets a coffee.

“Are you ok?”

Ethan remains silent. Alan returns and Casey accepts the coffee and Alan insists that she stay.

“What does she want?” Ethan asks tersely.

“To speak to you Ethan. I do not know why but she did want the decision to be yours.” He says while he hands him a piece of paper. Ethan says nothing and Alan takes his leave. Ethan and Casey then walk back to the hospital. She can see Ethan is troubled but does not pry. Ethan is appreciative of the silence. His mother all of a sudden requesting contact after nearly 26 years was confronting to say the least. With how things were with Casey currently, he did not wish to burden her.

They arrive back at the hospital to see their patient hanging off the railings of the atrium. Casey rushes up and pretends to be one of the people that Lamar is talking too. She hops over the edge to try and lure him back. Ethan is frightened, not for the patient but Casey. As much as things are strained right he does not want to see her hurt. The whole commotion, including Ethan’s reaction was spotted by June. Perhaps there are feelings underneath Ethan’s exterior, she thinks. Lamar comes back from the railing and is taken back to the room. Casey is brought back over and she heads off to do some research. Ethan is relieved she is ok and June decides to monitor the situation. She did concede that Casey did fit well in the team, despite whatever was going on with Ethan.

The atrium episode leads to a diagnosis for Lamar. Syphilis and it is in its tertiary phase. The damage it has done is permanent but it can be managed. Lorraine is thankful but saddened.

Later that night Ethan is at home, sipping on a scotch. He thinks about the whole case, how Lamar’s past has some serious implications for his future, how he had let his issues from Louise abandoning him affect him. The trust issues he had because of her abandoning him and Alan already destroyed a friendship and possibly another, his feeling of being unloved had also impacted many a long term relationship. He looked at the piece of paper on the coffee table. He knew opening Pandora’s box was risky and making this call would be but he needed to before again his future was ruined by his past. He finishes the glass of scotch, pours another and then dials.

———-

Authors note: laughs maniacally. I am not sorry for ending it there but what happens next will be the focus of the next chapter and if I added it to this then well it would be very long.

In all honesty though in a way I am glad that Pixelberry did not give Ethan the option to speak to Louise when she first contacts him because we all know how non existent her plot point became at the end of book 2 but at the same time I wish we could have. And that is what writing an au is for.

For those who have read this far thank you.

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