#will probably give up and go have a headache somewhere else soon

[wildwood-faun]

lying in the blue room during the blue hour. headachey.

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (part 5)

A/N: MY OH MY. This tag list has grown so much it makes me so happy! Thanks to the anonymous ask, i indulged myself and added a little self care on reader being sick. It honestly comforted me.

Again you are all entirely welcome to send some heacanons, tropes or ideas to add to this.

and yes. You'll have the slowest burn ever.

YOU WANTED TO BE FLUSTERED? HERE YOU GO MWAHAHA

Warnings: some 18+ inuendos, swearing.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

You were exhausted. It had been an awfully long week. To your demise, sickness had entered your ranks. Sergeant McTavish was first. Whaling like a wounded soldier every time he felt a cough erupting. The drama queen had soon infected the others. 

"We should have taken him out when I said to." 

You had rolled your eyes at Ghost's remark. 

Colonel Vargas was second. It had been slightly less complicated. He seemed to handle the flu much better. Gaz, he, had sung the song of his people with Soap, acting as if they've been shot. Though as per Price's comment, they complained far less when they had actually been shot. 

Of course they had all nested in the apartment, Ghost highly irritated, asking them to go die somewhere else where they wouldn't bother him. 

Being a medic had never been your dream. Yet you had to improvise yourself as a nurse for the week, giving medication and hot beverages to the wounded soldiers, or as you affectionately called them, pussies. 

Price had followed, he had acted as if nothing was wrong, the obvious raspiness of his voice betraying him. He had kindly refused your offer to take care of him, but gave in at the warm soup for dinner. Your best patient so far.

Now to your worst patient. Ghost. He had entirely avoided any care package thrown his way, resulting in a lot of bickering to the amusement of the rest of the healing squad. 

"Take your fucking meds." You said annoyed.

"Fucking make me." He dared. 

You threw him your most annoyed glance. 

"I will punch you." You threatened. 

"Sure thing gremlin, reach my face first." He answered in the same tone. 

You had kindly thrown every pillow in the living room at him, taking the one underneath soap's head, earning a 'hey!' from the agonizing man. 

He had still accepted warm beverages, and after a very long fight and a threat to get drunk again, he had taken his meds. 

It was finally over. Everyone was on the path of healing. Your duty was done. 

Unfortunately for you, on this fine Sunday morning, you woke up with a raging headache and a sore throat. 

You had been infected by the zombies. The game was over. You sighed. You had hoped very very strongly that you might escape the plague but the fight had been lost. You groaned as you sat up in bed. The warmth radiating from your body couldn't betray the obvious. You had a fever. You closed your eyes, cursing every baby man in the apartment because, OF COURSE, they were still camping around. Price was the only one who went back home for the night and came back in the morning to babysit his men. 

You tried to stand, grabbing the black hoodie laying on your desk chair. You'd be fucking damned if you gave him back his hoodie. And he'd have to deal with you stealing the others too. Throwing it on, you tried to walk out of your room, the men complaining in the living room were being way too noisy for your pounding head. Finally appearing in the doorway the men turned to you. 

"Oh god… you got sick." Price said. 

The look of annoyance on your face couldn't betray it. You walked to the counter where Ghost was eyeing you carefully. You stared into his eyes. 

"Johnny, make some tea." Ghost ordered, not dropping his gaze.

"Copy." Soap said jumping from the couch and jogging to the kitchen. 

"Gaz go get some meds" he ordered again. "Copy" Gaz spoke out loud, walking to the front door. You felt your cheeks color. 

"I'll go buy some snacks." Alejandro said, walking behind Gaz. 

"You should get her to bed." Price said, walking next to soap probably to stop him from burning the kitchen down. 

Ghost stood, extending his hand. You sighed before grabbing it, letting him walk you back to your room. 

"Get in bed." He ordered. 

"Like that? Not even a date first?" You teased dropping to your knees on the mattress. 

"Stop taking your fantasies for reality." He snickered. 

You let yourself slip under the covers again. He turned on the TV in your room, putting Netflix on. 

"Ghost…" you asked, unsure of what you're going to say next. 

He turned to you. 

"Can… you stay…?" You asked. 

"Can you give me back my hoodie?" 

"No "

"Fuckin hell…" 

So here you were. Cup of warm tea in hand, various snacks dropped around the bed, chocolate, candy, chips, sliced fruit and other things. Ghost laid next to you, slightly sitting against the headboard. Community was playing on the wide screen. It was peaceful. You, laying in bed, with your scary dog of a roommate next to you on the bed, his teammates half laying at the feet of the bed and around the room. 

You sighed of content. Price had to run off to get some things done, but he promised to drop by in the evening again. Your eyelids felt heavy, the sickness getting you tired. A large hand came to slowly grab the half empty mug from your hands, putting it down on your night stand. You tried keeping track of the show on TV or the boys commenting or snickering at the jokes, but your eyes were fighting against your will. 

It felt comfy. Warm. The man next to you seemed to radiate so much warmth. Your head had slightly fallen to the side, resting on his shoulder. You convinced yourself you'd close your eyes just for a minute. Just… a little… minute… 

It felt… good… comfy… against his chest… his arm… around you… maybe… you could… sleep… for a bit…

"Sleep little bunny… we're here." He whispered, finally letting you completely give in to your exhaustion. 

__

You groaned at the sound of someone repeatedly knocking and ringing at the front door. You peeked at the clock on your phone. 6:20 am. Who ? What? 

It couldn't be Ghost. He did go for his morning runs, but… maybe he had forgotten his keys? 

You got up, finally giving in. The knocking was non stop. 

"I'm coming! God! Just a minute!"  You yelled. 

The pijamas you were wearing didn't help the cold hair from making you shiver as you walked to the front door. 

You opened it, trying to focus your brain on what was happening. 

"Oh darling! I'm soooo sorry to wake you up but I really need you!" 

You stared at the woman in front of you. Sergeant Melisa Gallegos stood there. You had met her in one of the previous missions, you had gotten friendly with her. She was kind and sweet. You sometimes get coffee and gossip with her. That's how you had gotten to know each other. You had learned that she was a single mother of a 3 years old little girl named Amy. 

Which was sitting in her mother's arms, eyes fighting to stay open at the obvious early rise she had to go through. 

"I need you to babysit."

"What?" 

"I am SO sorry to ask you this. I have a big emergency at the base, and her babysitter is on vacation… " she explained. 

"But… I… I haven't taken care of a kid in a long time!" You debated. 

"You know Amy! She loves you, you did this before." She tried smiling at you. 

You stood before her, looking at her shift from one foot to another, and at Amy just begging to fall asleep. 

You sighed. 

"Oh thank you thank you thank you!!" She said, handing the little girl into your arms. 

"Wait!- I-" you tried. 

Unfortunately she had already dropped the two little bags in front of the door and ran off. 

You looked at the little girl in your arms, not bothered by the change of person. She did know you after all, you had already babysat for her a few times. 

"Alright little monkey. Let's go back to bed. It's way too early." You said, pushing the bags inside with your feet and closing the front door. 

When Amy had woken up again, it was around 9 am. You were fine by it as it was the normal time you'd wake up. You two had played a bit on the bed, tickling her, and creating stories with the little plushie she dragged around everywhere with her. 

After a good laugh you had decided to get up, peeking at your phone. One notification.

"I'm bringing breakfast, just got to pass at the base first. Be there at 10." 

Alright. Gave you time to get dressed with Amy and make her a hot chocolate, with the usual tea for you and him. You had walked into the living room, dropping her on the couch softly turning on some cartoons, leaving you to start on the beverages. You heard the front door unlock, Ghost walking in with the usual breakfast. 

"I got-" 

He glanced at the couch. Freezing on the spot. The staring match in between the toddler and the man in a skull balaclava was almost comical if you weren't so anxious of Amy's reaction at the masked man. You hadn't thought that she might be scared of Ghost. 

"Awe you a supew hewo?" She asked, eyes shining with happiness. 

Your heart melted on the spot. You smiled at Ghost who suddenly turned to you. 

"How the fuck did a kid spawn here?" He asked, confusion clearly visible in his eyes. 

You gasped ready to reprimand him from cursing in front of the child. 

"Fwuck!" 

You both turned to the toddler who had a wide smile on her face. 

"No. No. Nonononoo… Amy sweety no.." you freaked out a bit. God Melisa was going to kill you. 

You walked to the toddler kneeling in front of her. 

"Darling, that's a bad word… only grown ups can use it… alright?" You tried to explain. Throwing a dark look at the man still standing at the doorstep. 

"Ok!" She happily conceded. 

You smiled. 

"Perfect! Do you want to meet the big man?" You asked. She frantically nodded. You picked her up, walking around the couch to stand in front of Ghost who looked almost terrified. 

"Amy, this is Lieutenant Riley. You can call him Ghost. He's my roommate… hum, my friend!" You explained. 

You turned to ghost who's eyes shifted from the child to you. 

"Ghost. This is Amy. She's my friend's kid, and I had to babysit at the last minute. She'll be spending the day with me." 

He nodded. 

"Why you wwear a mask?" She asked. 

He frowned for a second. 

"Hmm… it's for my job." He answered. 

"Can I touwch it?" She asked, extending her little hand. 

Ghost stared at it for a few seconds before looking back at you. 

"Hum, sweety, maybe-" you started trying to defuse the situation. 

To your shock he stopped closer, lowering his face, letting the little girl touch his mask. His eyes were on you, and yours were glued to his.

What was that funny feeling spreading through you? The burning sensation coursing through you? God.. 

The little girl giggled. Before letting her hand drop. 

She then turned to you. 

"Can I watch SpongewBob?" She asked. 

You cleared your throat. Looking away embarrassed. 

"Of course darling. We'll prepare breakfast." 

You turned away, walking back to the couch and sitting her down, leaving her to watch 'SpongewBob' on tv. 

You walked to the kitchen Ghost closely following you. 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting -" you began in a low voice.

"It's… ok. It was surprising." He whispered back.. 

God, why was he so close to you? Why were you so HOT?! 

"I'm not used to kids." He admitted. 

"It's alright. I'm the babysitter. You don't have to stay." You smiled. 

"Didn't we have to go grocery shopping?" He reminded you. 

You closed your eyes at the sudden realization.

"Oh… fu-.. I mean… yeah… I forgot." You said. 

"We can take her. It'll be ok, right?" He asked. 

"Why wouldn't it be?" You questioned back. 

"I don't know. It's not too cold for her?" He asked. 

God can he stop being so FUCKIN cute?! You bit your lip, keeping the wide smile from being too visible and failing miserably. 

"She'll be fine." 

Breakfast had been, calm. You were thankful that Amy was one of the calmest kid's you knew. She was well behaved, calm, and sweet. She was, unfortunately for Ghost, extremely curious. And again, to his dismay, she had taken a liking to him. She had been fascinated at the way he raised his mask to his nose to eat. 

His lips were one of the things you were used to. 

To SEE. USED TO SEE. 

On another hand, Ghost had seemed very thoughtful during the morning. 

He had eclipsed himself for half an hour while you battled with the toddler to get both of you ready to go grocery shopping. She kept questioning everything, sometimes wondering about things that never ever crossed your mind. You found it funny. It was incredibly adorable. 

Zipping her little coat, making sure she had her scarf, you received a text from Ghost. 

"I'm here." 

You walked out of the door, the little girl holding your hand as you were walking down. You made sure to walk down the stairs at her pace, eyes never leaving her, too scared she might fall even though her tiny hand was secured in yours.

You pushed the building's door to the underground parking lot where you immediately saw Ghost, arms crossed over his chest, all dressed in black leaning against his black jeep. Amy squealed as she saw him. Jumping. 

You smiled. You walked to him. 

"Where did you go?" You asked. 

"We were missing something." He said.

"Really? What?" You inquired, confused. 

He moved, opening the back door. You blinked. A FUCKING CAR SEAT. You closed your eyes, sighing. 

"Thank you… it had completely escaped my mind…" you apologized. 

Amy had let go of your hand, skipping her way to Ghost, hands up in the air for him to pick her up and sit her in the back. 

Ghost froze. You were quick to make a move but you stopped as he slowly bent forward. You stood there in shock, watching him pick up the child. She was so small in his arms.

Fuck… was this awakening something in you? 

He sat her very softly in the car seat, being extremely careful to make sure she wouldn't hit her head. He moved as if Amy was a little porcelain doll. You saw him fidget to buckle her up, again surprising you. The little 'click' was heard, and he pulled a little on the belts, making sure it was safe. Amy was holding her little plushie babbling about whatever new thing she had learned this morning to the soft thing.

Ghost looked back at you, leaning on his arm  against the car. As if taking your opinion on his handy work. You bit your lip. And his eyes fell on the movement, forearms flexing. 

"Thanks…" you whispered. 

"You're welcome." He answered voice deeper than usual. You finally moved, opening the passenger door, he closed the back door making sure Amy didn't have her leg or arm in the way. You sat in the front, Ghost closing your door behind you. 

You took a deep breath. Amy seemed to be enjoying herself, not at all weary of her new environment. Ghost took place in the driver's seat, buckling his seatbelt as well. You watched his movements as turned on the vehicle.

"Ghost…" you called. 

He looked at you. 

"Did you… buy a car seat?" You asked. 

"Yes." Was all he said, attention turning back to his task. 

You pushed the Shopping cart where Amy had taken place. Ghost followed you as you tried to remember what you needed. The grocery store on the base was a good thing. It avoided having civilians staring at Ghost. At least here, everyone knew who he was. The fact he was with a woman and a child though, that, caused many to stare. 

The fact that Amy was a little blond, curly haired girl, that was incredibly close in color to Ghost's eyelashes also made everyone stare. 

You tried to focus on the task at hand, Amy and Ghost not caring at all about the rest of the people in the store. 

She kept pointing at things, asking Ghost to explain what It was. It made you smile. The way he was willingly letting himself be questioned by the little girl. 

"Oh, i forgot…" you mentally cursed yourself. 

Ghost looked at you. 

"Can.. you stay with her for a few minutes? I'm sorry… I forgot to grab something." You asked with a sorry look..he nodded. 

You smiled at him before turning around and walking out of the aisle, hurrying up.  As you scanned the new aisle your phone rang. Rummaging through your pocket you grabbed it. It was Amy's mother. 

" Hey! How's everything going?" She asked. 

"Everything's fine. Your daughter met Liteutenant Ghost Riley." You teased. 

"...what?" She asked. 

"Yeah, he's my roommate." You spoke, still searching for the damn thing. 

"... And… is everything going ok?" She asked with a little worry in her voice. 

"Everything is fine…" you sighed " she likes him more than me, and he acts as if she's made of glass." You said. 

"Oh! Thank god! I was worried she might be a bit much for him." She chuckled. 

"Well he's not used to it, but he's extremely patient with her." You reassured. 

"Alright, I might pick her up late… I'm really sorry…"

"It's ok. You owe me though." You teased. 

"Ok, fair." She laughed. 

You bid your goodbyes, her having to rush back to work, and you worrying about leaving Ghost and Amy alone too long. 

You walked back to the aisle you had left him, finding them nowhere. You frowned. You walked around the aisle, suddenly feeling the anxiety coursing through you. What happened? Why aren't they here? You stopped as you turned left into the biscuits section. 

You let out a sigh of relief.

"Ghost!" You walked to him. He turned to you not bothered at all by the situation. 

"I've been looking for-" 

You interrupted yourself as you looked at Amy. 

"Ghost. Why does she have a doll?" You asked.

"She asked for it." He replied. 

You looked at the cart. 

"She also asked for the plush, the Legos and the ponies?" You glared at him.

"Yes." He replied again, as if the situation was completely fine. 

"Ghost. You can't buy her that." 

"Yes I can." 

"No! You can't give her everything she asks for!" 

"Yes I can. She asked nicely. She said please." He explained turning back to lean on the cart. 

"That's not an excuse!" You scolded. 

"It's my money." He concluded. 

Amy smiled widely, hugging the box the doll was in. 

You stood there mouth slightly open, shocked from the situation. 

She had him wrapped around her finger! You rolled your eyes. This was a fight you wouldn't win. You headed for the cashier's, ready to ring up everything. Amy was thrilled with her new toys. Walking back to the car, you dropped the groceries in the trunk, Amy already had her doll out of the box as she had 'asked nicely', and ghost had ripped the box apart to give it to her.  

He had let you buckle her up this time. You headed back home. Stopping at MacDonalds on the way home because, once again, 'she had asked nicely'. 

"Stop spoiling her Ghost!" 

"No." 

Ghost parked in the parking lot. You both got out of the car. You opened the back door, looking at the little girl. She had fallen asleep on the way home. She hadn't liked waking up early, and it was almost time for her nap. You stood there for a little while watching her sleep. She was so cute. You didn't want to wake her up. 

The breath on your neck made your hair stand, as he whispered in your ear.

"Do you want me to pick her up…" 

You held your breath. He was in your back, cornering you, arms on each side, leaning down. 

You slowly looked to your left, planting your eyes into his. Time froze. You were so close. You could feel his breath though his balaclava on your lips. He frowned. Eyes shifting to said lips. 

"You're always biting your lip…" he noted in a low voice. 

Were you? You didn't even realize you were doing it now. 

"Does it bother you?" You hushed back. 

"It makes them… red." He stated awkwardly. 

"Does it?" You asked. Of course it did. You could see his brows furrowing.

"Makes me…want-" he started, almost growling. 

You were hanging on to his every word. Heat pouling dangerously deep in your stomach. 

"Why does it make whem red?" The little voice made you both separate instantly. Ghost taking a step back.  

You cleared your throat, looking at Amy. 

"Hum… well… hum… it's… complicated. I'll explain another time, ok?" You tried, clearly blushing. 

"Ok!" She smiled. 

God. Keeping children was hard.

The day had gone by pretty fast. You ate lunch, Amy napped leaving you and Ghost time to work a bit. You two were acting as if nothing happened.  On your part at least you were obviously embarrassed. 

After she had woken up, she insisted on playing with her new Legos. You had moved the coffee table to the side so you could play on the carpet with her. Ghost was sitting on the couch, legs spread, reading a report, occasionally looking at you playing with Amy. Once in a while Amy turned to him proudly showing off her constructions. 

Each time he praised her with a little, 'that's really nice, you did good', it made your heart flutter. 

He was so kind, so gentle with her. 

You could feel his gaze on you when you weren't looking. It burnt through you. 

After a while you had dinner, and put on a Disney movie for her. You sat on the couch with her on your lap cuddling her new teddy and her old plushie. She rested against you. Ghost joined after finishing his report. 

"Move." He asked. 

You frowned. He sat next to you, making you lean on him. You blushed. 

"Are you really gonna watch Encanto?" You teased. 

"You'd rather I go away?" He asked, looking down at you intensely. 

You didn't say anything at all. 

The more the movie played the more Amy seemed to close her eyes. It was getting pretty late. Around half of the movie she was sound asleep in your arms. You smiled down at her, brushing a little strand of blond hair away from her face. 

"Fuck…" 

You looked at Ghost meeting his gaze. 

"Is everything alright?" You whispered. 

He stayed silent. 

"Ghost..?" You asked frowning. 

"What are you doing?" He asked. 

"What.. Do you mean?" You whispered.

"To me…" he finished furrowing his brows in confusion. 

You sucked in a breath, but before you could say anything, a knock on the door made you separate. It took a little moment for him to gather himself and get up to open the door. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. A few seconds later, Melisa walked in. 

"Hey!" She whispered to you, walking to where you sat. 

"Hi, how was work? " You hushed back. 

"Hell… but we made it… I'm so sorry to have dropped her off like that…" she said, the sincerest sorry look on her face.

"It's alright Melisa. I understand, and I don't mind helping you out. Amy is adorable." You reassured. 

She smiled at you, feeling slightly emotional by the look on her face. With the utmost care, you gave her the sleeping toddler. 

"I'll help you with the bags." You told her, getting up the couch with her. Looking around at the toys scattered around and then to the new plush she furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Did you buy her all of this?" She asked. 

"No. He did." You said pointing at the man leaning behind the kitchen counter. 

It was absolutely ridiculous to say that the man, in all black, with a mask made of a human skull, with the most terrifying glance you could fall on, had bought so many toys for a toddler after she had simply said 'please'.

You both walked to the doorstep as she stopped in front of Ghost. 

"I'm sorry lieutenant.. I hope she didn't make a fuss. I'm very thankful to you both for keeping her… and for the toys." She said. 

"No problem. She's a nice kid." He said. 

You smiled at him, he noticed. You grabbed the two little bags and followed Melisa out, walking down the stairs to her car. 

"He's pretty nice actually, for a cold blooded killer he is reputed for." She remarked. 

"He's still a terrifying man, who sticks up to his reputation by the reports of missions I've seen. He's just… calmer, here." You said. 

She had put Amy into her car seat. 

"He bought her… a car seat." You said. It sounded more like a thought coming out of your mouth, as if for yourself, it was still something your brain was trying to process. 

"He did? Just… for today?" She asked. 

"Yeah. We went to the store, and I guess he was worried for her safety, and immediately went out and bought her the car seat." You explained. 

Now you remembered how he seemed deep in thoughts during breakfast. He had been thinking about it. 

"Well. He seems like a good man." She said softly, closing the back door. 

"Yeah.. you're right." You smiled at her. "I trust that this stays in between us." You asked. 

"Don't worry. I wouldn't say anything that involves my daughter to anyone. This situation stays knowledge for us only." She assured. You knew that she was extremely worried to have her child on the line. Unfortunately, it's part of the job to earn enemies, and everyone wants to keep their loved one away from it. 

Melisa thanked you again as you handed her the bags. You offered to take care of Amy if she ever needed again. After hugging her goodbye, you headed back up to the apartment. 

Locking the front door behind you, you walked into the living room where you saw Ghost, holding what now seemed to be his favorite mug, standing behind the counter.

"You look tired. You should head to sleep." He remarked. 

He was right. You were tired. Taking care of a child wasn't easy, you were glad for his help. You walked up to him, you saw him stiffen. 

"Thank you Ghost. Your help was really appreciated. And I had an amazing day. Amy adored it. So… again, thank you Gh-"

"Simon." He interrupted. 

You blinked. 

"Wh-what..?" You whispered. 

He stepped closer, barely inches away.

"My name. It's Simon." He clarified. 

Your mouth opened. Then shut itself again. 

Simon. 

"(Y/N)." You blurted out. 

His eyes flashed something unknown. 

"(Y/N).." he whispered, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. Your name, on his lips. Fuck…

"Simon…" you whispered too. 

You felt his fingertips rush to your hip, hovering there, too close yet so far. After a second he lowered his hand back to his body. 

"You're welcome. It was a good day." He added. 

You nodded, smiling at him, trying to hide the obvious way your heart was racing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched him step back, gaining some composure. 

"Goodnight (Y/N)." He said. 

"Goodnight Simon."

----

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[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Two

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Warnings: Use of French from someone's whose ability extends to that of the primary school level! Hints of past encounters with substance abuse, but not really.

Authors Note: Part two baby!! I'm really so glad that you all seemed to enjoy the first part of this and can only hope you'll like this one too! I can't believe I've actually decided to give this series a go, already onto starting part four! But I loved seeing all the reactions to it in truth and felt like I couldn't not. Hope you like it x

Masterlist

Adi @/AdelineWells_ 2m ago

Coffee acquired and headed into the studio! Who’s looking forward to today’s show?? #MouseOnAMic

“Did you see it then!” Adi exclaimed breathlessly as soon as I trudged in through the loft door, not even giving me the chance to settle in and perhaps start on a brew before she was invading my personal space.

“Well, have you?”

I dropped my bag onto the settee and then followed suit by falling heavily into my favoured armchair, the yellow one which sat happily amongst the rest of the sitting area we’d first set up in the studio. 

“Seen what?” I questioned Adi, the sigh I added muffled by the tired hand I dragged across the lower portion of my face, before I then knuckled the edge of my jaw.

It had been an extremely long morning, what with Teddy not having wanted to leave my side since waking up and then deciding to throw an massive all-mighty fit when I’d had to drop him straight off at nursery instead of Finn’s like usual.

Finn had actually gotten a last minute project thrown his way, one he hadn't been able to say no to, being an commissioned artist and all, which had resulted in him being unable to take Teddy off my hands like planned and me running more than a little late.

That, plus the trains had been a complete and utter nightmare!

Another strike was set to start soon and so the trains were in constant delay. Not that I blamed the workers specifically for it all, to each their own and all that crap. But still, it took me a half an hour longer to get into work this morning than it usually should have done.

I let my eyes slip close at the very thought of it, merely hoping for a moment’s peace, but then heard Adi sigh dramatically somewhere to the left of me, seemingly oblivious to the weary state I was already in. 

She was growing impatient with me and I could feel a headache brewing, the steady throbs of it pulsing high in my temples. I noted then how much I was in dire need of a rather large coffee, or maybe even something stronger, but simply resigned myself to the knowledge that the headache would probably only worsen throughout the day, seeing as though I’d forgotten to grab my migraine medication out of the cupboard in my haste this morning.

I didn’t even get the chance to centre myself before a phone was being shoved into my face. Immediately, I blinked my bleary eyes open at the intrusion and winced at the onslaught of unexpected bright light it gave as I lurched as far back as the shoddy armchair would allow me.

“Christ, Ads.” I muttered, but the woman only persevered and I was forced to squint and try to make sense of the many words she was presenting to me on the screen of her mobile. My eyes widened in disbelief.

Without a second thought, I snatched the thing out of Ad’s impatient grip and straightened in my seat, reeling. “Shit.”

The Sun

Tuesday, 08:23am

Drunken truths- or rather, tweets!

After yesterday’s whirlwind, caused by a recent segment on an up and coming radio show based in London, Mouse On A Mic, where the host shedded their honest opinion on the behaviour of none other than The 1975’s lead singer, Matty Healy, the online world has been divided. Since the show aired there has been a massive show of support for the presenter, many agreeing with the comments made, but also, and rather unsurprisingly, there has been the expected backlash from the band’s rowdy fanbase.

Mouse, a pseudonym used by the show’s host, managed to make it onto Twitter’s trending page in the early hours of yesterday evening, after the segment on the singer blew up, and it was there that many came to battle over the honesty of it all! 

The award winning artist himself later touched upon it, hours after everything had actually occurred and some of the heat had died down, in a tweet of his own! In it Matty seemed to back the radio host’s claims, stating that we really should ‘listen to the radio’ and that he is an evident ‘liar’ as he’s been labelled many times before. He even went as far as to say that he was indeed very ‘sad’, which caused a mass hysteria of both confusion and emotion to spread throughout the media, some of it relating back to Healy’s previous stints in rehab and the many times he’s been caught in the firing line. Whilst others showed no sympathy at all.

No one from Matty’s band or team has yet to comment on it, but the tweet has since been mysteriously deleted! Our question is, where do we go from here?

“I know, right! How mad is this?” Adi gushed unabashedly as she threw her weight into the spinning chair beside my own. The wheels whined beneath her weight but Adi paid the noise no mind, either beyond used to the crappy furniture we’d procured since moving in or just too enthralled in the phone she’d since snatched back.

I figured it to be the latter.

“He was obviously so gone when writing it, but do you reckon it’s the truth then? That he’s probably getting shit for it right now?” She further queried, her voice filled with a childlike excitement that had me frowning.

“If so, why do you sound so pleased about it?” I shot back, tilting my head over towards her, “The whole thing’s more than a little messed up, Ads.”

Adi merely groaned at me in response, letting her head lull against the back of the chair before she then cast an exaggerated glance, a cheap look that clearly stated, ‘are-you-fucking-joking-me?’

I didn’t care much for it, in all honesty, and widened my own eyes in a mocking response, waiting for her to give me an actual answer.

“God, Mouse! Have you even seen the amount of subscribers the show has gotten since Healy’s tweet? We’ve already got a dozen calls lined up and we don’t even air for another hour!” Adi blew out excitedly as she pushed herself further up in her seat, the tight miniskirt which hugged her thighs rode up slightly but she made no move to tug it down, too caught up in her rant.

“We’ve gained over twenty thousand followers, babe! Twenty thousand! And it’s only grown since his tweet was deleted! Can you believe that?”

I scoffed. “It’s hardly something to be proud of, is it? Gaining traction off some guy who’s already got the world quick-firing at him. He needs help, not more fucking media attention. I mean, you said it yourself, he was clearly hammered whilst writing it.”

I got up to turn my back on her then, figuring it’d be best if I just got a start on setting up for the day seeing as we were already running behind. 

In all honesty, I really could see what had Adi so ecstatic. The show had never received this much notice before and twenty thousand followers was a game changer for people like us. It would boost ratings and help garner the wider audience we’d been chasing for ages now. But I still felt guilty and was far from proud of the fact that we’d earned all of these so-called ‘followers’ off the back of somebody else’s torment.

Matty clearly had his demons, that much was evident. But in my opinion, he really didn’t need any more publicity. Especially on a topic which surrounded old habits and seemed so blatantly sensitive. At this point, I honestly wished I'd never opened my fat gob.

Messing about with the console, I silently wondered why I cared so much. Yeah the evident culpability was there, but the guy had it coming with the way he’d been acting. I’d just been doing my job. Right?

I withheld a frustrated sigh at the question, but then jumped an inch out of my skin when I felt a gentle touch brush against my shoulder, pulling me swiftly from my thread of chaotic thoughts.

Spinning around, I was met with the face of a guilt-ridden Adi, who’s glossy lips were pursed and deep brown eyes downcast.

“Sorry,” She said and then paused, “Didn't think of it much like that.” Her mouth twisted uncomfortably for a second before she finally smiled at me, clearly apologetic. “We should probably say something then, right? To the viewers?”

I dipped my head in a surprised nod before slouching into the booth’s chair with a defeated huff. “I mean sure, but what would we even say though? It’s all so fucked up. Thanks for following us but fuck you if you think we’re gonna chat shit about some band?”

Adi snorted, but her typical catty smile didn't quite reach her eyes, “Guess that could work. Sounds effective enough.”

I chuckled around a smile of my own, then hummed for a moment.

“Not really the big break we were looking for, is it?” I commented aloud, not really looking for a response. Then added, “You reckon he’s alright?”

“Who?”

A brief silence settled between us then as I scanned Adi’s bemused face, and she moved to settle against the edge of the table.

“Healy.” I murmured softly.

And Adi, apparently taken back by my answer, locked her jaw in thought before her eyes shifted towards something just over my shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

--

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago Highlights of today's show! 

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 21m ago Mouse opened up today's show with ‘an oldie’, in her words, and played 'Morning Glory' by Oasis which seemed to please a lot of us! She also asked how everyone was today, briefly mentioning her long morning.

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 19m ago The first topic was based around the Kardashian's newest season and was brought up by a listener who had messaged the show. "F*cking old news! We should have gotten rid of that show ages ago, I really have no idea how people can just sit around and watch it all honestly! So much unnecessary- and clearly fake- drama going on. Just seeing the influence that it has on so many young girls, as well as how much time people are willing to spend on that entire family, is just something I can’t comprehend or get behind, but have been very conscious of. I'm so lost on what it is exactly that has people feeling so drawn to them. It's mental!"

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 17m ago The show played this week's top 10 hits! Mouse making a very special shout-out to her son, who's current obsession is blasting Taylor Swift's new release through the speakers! (Don't worry, Mini Mouse, we're obsessed with it too!)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 14m ago The famous "Call Us!" segment makes a return this week! Mouse dragged Adi into the booth, as per usual, and the pair spoke to a few excited callers. The duo answered questions on the newest single’s out right now and what upcoming films they were excited to see! Adi even ended up calling out Ed Sheeran?! Of all people, after a fan phoned in to rant about their need for a new album!

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 13m ago A competitive game of "The Impossible Quiz" broke out, which of course was won by our ever merciless Adi, and Mouse followed through on the losing dare! (Check it out on the Show's website to see! Link in bio.)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 11m ago Lead vocalist and guitarist to Only The Poets, Tommy Longhurst, Facetimed the studio to talk about his band’s newest single, 'Every God I Pray To'. He's been a fan of Mouse and Adi since his first appearance on the show about a year ago now with the rest of the guys and it was so great to see the three of them together again! They ended up doing a Fan Q&A (which is up on the show’s Youtube channel now!) before they played the single for everyone listening in.

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 8m ago When Adi headed out of the booth, Mouse decided to touch on the topic of yesterday's show. This is what was said, "I just wanted to bring up what went down during the last show, as it- I don't even know at this point, really. It just spread like wildfire across social media and has since been taken a little out of context. The topic of Matty Healy did come up after he'd made a recent headline, having been pictured again after taking a couple weeks away from the spotlight whilst on tour. I gave my honest opinion on the subject, simply shared my thoughts, and I do stand by what I said at the time- as all our longtime listeners will already know! But with that being said, on this matter I do feel as though I probably should have held back a tad and bitten my tongue. I don't know Matty well enough to dub him as this or that, or to comment on his life choices- I've never even met the guy! But it is my job to speak out on current topics and I was just doing what I'm paid to do. (Cont)

>Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 6m ago

"… Adi was actually the one to show me the tweet Healy sent out last night, as well as the incredibly insensitive articles that were paired alongside it, and I see now that it's caused a bit of drama and sparked a few more unwanted rumours for him. I feel largely to blame. To all the new listeners, I just want you all to understand that, here and now, I do not intend on milking this particular cow, and I won't be saying much more on the matter. I only hope that he’s doing okay. And Matty, if you are somehow listening, I really do apologise for all the shit I said and for the crap I've probably caused you since. It wasn't my intention for any of this to blow up, but you seem like a good sort, so. You're welcome on the show or at the studio anytime, no judgement here. Now! That's enough said on that topic, I’m-" And with that, Mouse soon moved onto wrapping up the show.

--

[HOMESCREEN] 17:18

Facetime now Mam Incoming call

Messages 4m Finnleyyy Listened to the show on the drive home, you okay?

"Bonsoir, mon belle fille!"

I smiled softly at the warm and familiar sound of my mum’s voice, even through the phone it was always so tender, a massive reminder of home. Her accent was gentle but brought me an undeniable amount of comfort and reminded me of days spent just the two of us, stowed away in our tiny cottage by the coast.

Before I could even offer her a greeting in reply though, the soft smile I wore immediately brightened upon having a much smaller figure settle down onto my lap to grab at the screen.

My mother laughed when a set of familiar eyes and chubby cheeks took up the tiny box in the tophand corner and I couldn't stop myself from chuckling along quietly with her when Teddy greeted her buoyantly.

“Mémé!” Teddy exclaimed happily, full of excitement as he proceeded to crawl closer to the camera, all knees and elbows whilst he tried to better see his grandmother.

I honestly really did try to stifle every groan that wanted to escape me as he went, but I must've looked pained because I didn't miss the flicker of mirth that glossed the older woman’s ageing eyes once Teds had finally settled.

"Bonjour chérie! How have you been? Behaving, I hope." My mum spoke, her sharp gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary before she finally shifted her full attention back onto her already babbling grandson.

I let the two of them chatter back and forth for a while, tired from where the day’s antics had worn me down, but still listening quietly as I focused on my mum’s sweet smile.

It was days like these that I wished I could do more than simply phone her. I wanted to walk through the front door after a long walk by the harbour and see her standing in the kitchen. I wanted to hug her and smell the same flowery perfume she’d worn since I was Teddy’s age. I wanted to lay on the grassy fields which sat behind our cottage and talk about nothing until the sun finally set.

But just seeing her face would have to do, for now.

"So you have been good for your maman, non?" I heard my mum ask, and all of my problems suddenly seemed so trivial at that moment, especially in comparison to the beaming grin Teddy gifted the woman as he nodded his head vigorously in response.

I raised a hand to run my fingers through the toddler’s hair, fingertips tucking stray stands behind his tiny ears. "He's been fine- well, we had a little tiff this morning, didn't we Teds?" I alluded to and then laughed, closed mouthed and breathy, at the way Teddy's head snapped up to gape at me. "When a certain someone didn't want to leave the flat..."

Teddy's lips curved into an unhappy frown at my words and his eyebrows dipped to show how displeased he was with the fact that I had ratted him out. To his grandmother of all people. 

I snorted to myself.

“Oh is that so?” Came my mum’s voice and Teddy’s eyes widened at her tone. Immediately the little boy whipped his head back around so that he could pout in the direction of the camera.

"No!" Teddy tried and I snickered, which only seemed to earn me a narrow-eyed scowl in retort. I had to, quite literally, chew at my bottom lip to hide my amused grin then. "I just tired, mémé! Need sleep! And Fin say no come over t'day. Gots to work. And I was sad."

“Ah, I see! So you were in a mood.” My mum hummed, eyes twinkling now. “And here I thought you adored mornings, Teddy! Or has it just been too long since you last visited me?” She gave me a pointed glance then, one I knew all too well.

Teddy, oblivious to his grandmother’s unsubtle attempt at chiding me, sat up straighter to once again grab at the phone I held. I sighed in reluctance but let him have it, trying not to linger too long on thoughts of grubby fingerprints and a broken screen.

Only recently had I had the stupid thing upgraded, not long after Teddy had violently destroyed the last one. The horrified expression of the young worker I’d shown it to in the shop still haunted me to this very day, as well blu-tack and parcel tape which had been the only two things holding the phone together.

"I do, I do!" Teddy rushed to reassure the woman, bouncing to further accentuate his point. I settled a hand on his shoulder to still him, grimacing lightly at the way his knee had suddenly been forced into my lower stomach. "Mornin’ I'm good! Mum makes soldiers like you! An' I see an'mals in the park when we walk to Finny's."

"That sounds like fun, mon cœur, and I'm excité to hear more, but that does not explain your tantrum." The older woman replied, and I felt the moment Teddy slumped against my chest, eyes downcast. "Alors pourquoi?"

Teddy shrugged silently at her, chin tucked into his neck. I tried to bite back my smirk and my mum gave me a sharp look for it, but it did nothing to dim the mirth I felt. Actually only encouraged me further, enough that I had to angle my face away.

The one thing I loved most about living in London was the fact that my mum could only scold me through the phone. 

"Just didn't wanna leave, mummy." Teddy admitted, rather sheepishly in fact, which instantly caught my attention. But before I could get a word in edgeways, my mum was already there, saving the day. Like always.

"Edward. Your maman is there for you whenever you need her! You call and she will come running." 

Her voice was gentle, face full of concern and assurance, so much so that I had to suck in a tight breath.

"Has there ever been a time that you have needed her and she wasn't there?"

Teddy shook his head, woeful eyes trained on the screen now, and I couldn't stop himself from wrapping an arm around him, desperate to have him closer. Teddy went without fuss and leant into the familiar gesture, resting his head against the small crook at my neck.

"See? She’s so wonderful, so very good to you, and she can only do her best, comprendre? So when she is not with you, when you are with Finn or at the nursery school with all your friends, she is working hard to make sure you have a happy life. It doesn't mean she loves you any less, chéri."

"And I do love you, Teddy." I added thickly, chin buried in Teddy's hair, "So, so much."

"I know. Just miss you."

My heart constricted tightly in my chest when Teddy tilted his head far back enough to peer up at me, his long lashes brushing against the line of his brow. I leaned in closer to press a kiss into his nest of messy curls.

“Miss you too, little man. Always. Things are never any fun without you around.”

"Really?" Teddy gasped loudly, as though he'd just that second heard that the Amazon rainforest had upped itself and decided to invade the UK.

"Big time." I faintly whispered, smiling when Teddy's face lit up.

He turned then, far too quickly for my liking, his entire mood having shifted upon hearing those simple words. "You hear mummy, mémé! You hear?"

"Oui, oui, chéri!" My mum replied with the same amount of emotion, tittering quietly to herself as she observed Teddy's catching excitement, "So lucky to have her, non?"

Teddy nodded vehemently and I just rolled my eyes at the pair, half in exasperation and half fondly. 

"I think it's the other way around, I'd be beyond lost without this little monster." I quickly countered, tickling Teddy's sides and then laughing when the toddler squirmed in my hold, unable to escape.

"Stop! Stop!" Teddy pleaded in a fit of hysterics as I continued my attack. "Help, mémé! Tell!"

"D'accord, d'accord!" Came my mother's merry laugh, seemingly coming to Teddy's rescue even though she was more than two hundred miles away. "Le laisser. My poor baby!"

I relented but only pulled away once I had smattered a sloppy trail of kisses down my baby's flushed cheek. Teddy whined unhappily at the invasion and wiped lazily at his face with the back of his hand whilst I simply laughed.

"Silly babies." My mum scoffed without any heat, her smile radiant.

She looked just about ready to say something else but Teddy was already twisting in my lap. "Hafta go loo." He divulged to me in a not-so-quiet whisper, wriggling in his seat now with a strained smile.

I blew out a breathy chuckle in reply and immediately pulled the phone from his grasp, placing it on the arm of the settee so that I could swiftly pick him up and plop him down onto the floor. I nodded my head in the direction of the hallway and Teddy hurried on, but not before he kissed the phone screen goodbye.

I returned to the sound of my mother's sweet laughter. 

"Je jure, il est une bénédiction."

My mouth pulled up at one side whilst I lightly shook my head. "A menace, more like."

"Ah! Do not speak ill of my gorgeous grandson!" My mum was quick to retort, wagging a finger at me, and even down the phone she could make menacing work. "He is magnifique, made up of all your best parts!"

I simply snorted in turn, rolling my eyes as I let my head fall back against the settee cushion. "I don't have enough of those to configure an entire being, even one that small."

It was my mum’s turn to snort then.

"Don't make such jokes." She scoffed, waving me away, "They forever fall flat.” Ouch. “You are beautiful, my love. Anyone with eyes can see that, and Teddy is so lucky to have you as his mother."

I couldn't really bring myself to reply then, instead I inhaled slowly and let my eyes slip close. It had been another long and tiring day, but then again, most days had me at the brink of exhaustion, in truth.

"Joli, talk to me." The woman murmured softly, her voice rang out into the now empty room, rousing my attention back to the phone. "I can see how tired you are, amour."

With another deep breath, I tried to give her the best smile I could muster. "I'm fine, mam. You don't need to worry so much."

My mum scoffed again, rolling her eyes with it.

"It's my job to worry about you! And you make it so much harder when you do not tell me what is going on. With you so far away, I can do nothing but call and pester until you talk to me!"

I sighed distractedly and raised a hand to rub at my cheek. I knew that she had a point, understood that she was always there whenever I needed her, but it was so hard to allow her that intimacy. She had spent the majority of my childhood caring for me, constantly worrying and fretting, so much it still often made me feel like a burden.

Moving to London had meant to be a fresh start for us both, somewhere far enough that I could give her the much needed space away from me and my many issues. But then I'd gone and cocked everything up by getting myself pregnant, and I’d only made things worse for us when Teddy had come along. It had taken weeks for me to finally admit to her just how terrified I had felt. How desperate I’d been for help.

But not once had she complained about my ability to open up, or lack thereof. Deep down, I knew that she probably understood my inner torment, my desperate need to not be a bother, but it didn't make anything at all easier.

Thoughtlessly, I threaded a hand through my hair, already feeling the knowing tell of a migraine that was starting to form just behind my eyes. I made a quick note to take something for it before I went to bed, otherwise I would be in utter hell come tomorrow morning.

And as I carefully mulled over the words that dizzied my mind, thinking on my mum’s own, I thought back to the last few days, about how hectic everything had been.

“Just a bit mental at work.” Was what I settled on, but couldn't quite stop myself from huffing as I knuckled at the inner corner of my eye. “I said something on the show that I probably shouldn’t have, and next thing I knew it was all over the news. Headlines and everything, can you believe that?”

Still in disbelief over it all, I just shook my head. 

“I saw nothing. It wasn't anything bad, was it, should I start worrying?” My mum pestered with a telling expression, because we both knew just how quickly my mouth could get me into trouble. We’d had one too many experiences tucked under our belts with that, but what can you do really?

Instantly I waved her worries off, laughing lightly, “No, nothing too extreme. Well, not anything too vulgar or offensive, just shared an opinion on this guy.”

“Souris,” My mum dragged out the nickname lowly, a warning or maybe a plea, telling me not to add anything stupid to the rest of my explanation. “S'il te plaît. Do not tell me you said anything rude.”

I shrugged, “Not really.”

“Not really?” She quickly retorted, utterly exasperated it seemed as a hand flew hurriedly through the air. “Not really, she says!”

I had to muffle the snort I made in my palm, “I’m telling the truth!” 

I blew out a breath and started to toy with the frayed hem of my jumper's sleeve, peering down at it. “Just, I’d been asked to talk about this one singer- Matty Healy, you might know him? From that one band.”

My mum merely blinked at me, before she ultimately shook her head, the name not ringing any bells.

I wondered, very briefly, whether that was a first for Healy.

“Well, I- I ‘spose I made an assumption on air, spoke before thinking really-”

“The usual.”

Barreling on, I ignored the sly dig of her interruption, “And probably didn't hold back. Apparently he has a rather large fan base though and a few of them heard what I’d said online, started talking about it. No wait, arguing is probably the better word.”

“Oh mon Dieu. Please don’t tell me you started arguing with these people! It’s not good for the show, for you! And what of Teddy, what if he hears the gossiping?”

“Maman, you sound almost as bad as me!” I chuckled, unable to hide my amusement at her worrying, “Stop assuming!”

She clucked at me in return, then signalled for me to continue with a roll of her eyes.

“See, the singer, well he must have ended up hearing it all because he replied to us on Twitter.” I revealed, peeking up to garner her reaction. “Reckon he was probably a bit drunk when he did though, and ended up admitting that what I’d said was mostly truth.”

My mum worried at her lower lip, letting a silence stretch between us before she broke it with a faint hum, “What else happened? Did you reply?”

“I spoke out about it a little more on today’s show; apologised.” I answered with a one-armed shrug, voice much quieter now. “But I don't know, I felt horrible. And I've never even met the man!”

“Try not to stress too much. I’m sure it will all work out. Besides, you have bigger things to fret about, like whether or not you’re coming to see me for Noël.”

I beamed at that, but still had to shake my head at her incessance. The woman really did have a way of rationalising everything though.

Just as I was about to add to that, I stilled and my eyes flickered up to the notification that had just come through at the top of my screen. An email. It wasn't too unusual to be receiving one this late, I supposed, and so I squinted my eyes at the notification box as I let my soft chuckles die out.

To: Mouseradio@/gmail.com From: Clientteam@/Primarytalent.org Subject: Scheduling/Meetings

Good evening!

Apologies for the late email, we simply wanted to write to you in regards to the recent claims made on your radio show, Mouse On A Mic, both yesterday and today, regarding the topic of one of our high profile clients.

We see it fit that all agencies involved should come to an agreeable arrangement now that the media have become more involved in the subject matter. Our team has since come together and written up some viable solutions, we believe it would be in both parties best interests if a time slot could be scheduled on your show within the upcoming days, in which we can gain an advantage and shed the right amount of light on the sensitive topic at hand.

We hope to hear back from you shortly and are wishing you all the best. Please do reply with a response and some available dates to this email address as soon as possible!

We are looking forward to hearing from you, the Primary Talent Team.

“Mum? I’m gonna have to call you back.”

[star-writr]

Fever Dreams

Hello!! Just a short drabble while i work on my requests. enjoy!!

Homunyxch wasn't an interesting planet. On any normal occasion, the Doctor would've just set his course for somewhere else without even stepping off the TARDIS. That time, however, had been the first time he had ended up there since beginning his travels with you, and you had insisted. Against all expectations, trouble had followed you and the Doctor on the rocky shores of Homunyxch, giving you another day of adventures. Once back on the spaceship, though, you'd started to feel quite sick.

Stranded on the seat next to the console, your hands gripping the leather in an attempt to focus only on tightening their grip rather than the headache which was slowly making the veins on your forehead bigger and your blood circulation faster, you could faintly hear the Doctor express his satisfaction with the most recent events. You would've loved to listen to him ramble, but you were covered in sweat and your legs were killing you.

"Doctor," you called, your voice a whisper, staring at the floor. It only took a few moments for the Time Lord to make his way over to the seat, kneeling down in front of you and cupping your cheeks. He was calling your name, you realized, but not in time for you to answer; your eyelids fluttered shut, and you lost your senses, precipitating into the Doctor's arms.

You woke up in what seemed like an ocean of blankets and pillows. Even under all that you felt like you were freezing. Your palms and forehead were sweaty, and yet you couldn't help but shiver.

"Doctor?" you called faintly from under the blankets. Soon enough, rapid footsteps approached the bed, and the Doctor's messy hair and worried look suddenly came into sight.

"I'm right here", he whispered, sitting next to you. His hand rested on your forehead for a couple of seconds, and the Time Lord furrowed his brow. He was clearly worried.

You were still very confused. "What's happening?" you asked.

The Doctor forced a light smile on his face to reassure you. "It's all right, sweetheart, it's only fever. You're going to be fine."

"Alien fever?"

"I'm afraid so," he muttered, "but nothing you can't handle. Do you feel like sitting up for me?"

Your body ached and you couldn't feel your fingers, but nonetheless you managed to get up. Now your back was resting against the pillows and you were holding onto the Doctor's sleeve. "You're doing very good", he remarked. "It probably feels exhausting, doesn't it?"

You nodded. Just sitting upright felt way more tiring than usual. The Doctor gently stroked your cheek. "I made you some broth. It should help warm you up." You noticed the fuming bowl on the nightstand.

"What kind of broth?" you questioned him, suspicious. The Doctor had the tendency to give you stuff to eat without explaining it was alien.

"Chicken. From Earth. I didn't even make it, I bought it. Right now we're parked in Rome, next to a pharmacy and across from a convenience store."

You smiled. "We're in Italy? Really?"

"When you get better we can have a look around," he replied, "but it's best if you recover first. Come on, eat up."

The Doctor handed you the bowl and in a few minutes you managed to gulp down every last drop of the broth. It was hot and warmed you up, just like the Doctor had said it would.

"There we go. Good, isn't it?" the Time Lord spoke, putting the bowl back on the nightstand. You nodded. The Doctor planted a kiss on your forehead. "Get back under the covers, you need to rest." You did as he told you, grateful for his company. He stroked your hair, gently and consistently, and you closed your eyes. Everything ached, but at least the Doctor was by your side.

The day went by in a haze. Once a while you could feel the Doctor putting a wet towel over your eyes, and fragments of his stories whispered from time to time. He also laid next to you throughout the night, and you tugged on his sleeve every time you came back to your senses for a few seconds, just to see if he was still there. He never left your side. If he had to, he would press his lips on your forehead and tell you he was going to "be back in a mo", but you didn't even notice his absence since he wouldn't spend more than a minute outside your room, doing whatever it was he needed to do.

Some time passed, and luckily your temperature got lower and lower. Slowly but surely, you even managed to get up from the bed and take a long, warm shower. The Doctor was so worried that he even suggested he went in with you, and even if you told him to piss off, you found it very sweet of him. "If you feel dizzy, scream really loud. Try not to slip, sweetheart. Also, I'll wash your clothes when you're done. Are you sure you don't want to eat first?" he rambled, but you told him off and had the most ordinary shower of your life. He almost hugged you when you got out, but your bare shoulders and death stare made him settle for a relieved smile in your direction.

You got your PJs back on and, soon enough, fell asleep once again. Even if you were recovering, that shower had exhausted you. The Doctor, having come inside the room to check in on you, smiled at your sleepy face and laid down next to you. Still asleep, your arms found their way over to his figure, your fingers clinging on to his clothes, and remained motionless. The only movement was your chests rising and falling, and the Time Lord's lips bending into a content grin.

When you woke up, an hour and a half later, the Doctor's hand was striking your head. Lazily, your eyelids lifted enough to let you see the Time Lord smiling at you.

"You alright?" he asked, in a murmur.

You nodded, then yawned, making him chuckle. "I wanna go to Rome," you pouted.

"You're not ready yet." The Doctor hugged you. "We don't want to make it worse, now, do we?"

"No..." you grumbled. The Doctor kissed your head. "Good", he said. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Okay. But I'm still going to make you something in a while. You can't recover on an empty stomach." His voice was low and made you want to spend forever with him, right there, laying together on a million pillows.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

You pecked him on the lips, grabbing him by the collar. He didn't protest.

"Thank you," you whispered, breathlessly, still very close to his face. "For everything you do for me."

He grinned. "Anytime, sweetheart." You chuckled at his words, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

This was his paradise, he thought.

[illusioninfnty]

Outlast: Chapter Nine (Sam Giddings x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1K

4:07

Sam was usually the one that was put together, the one that everyone could rely on, but when it came to you, she was stressed out beyond repair.

She bites her nails as she anxiously awaits your return. She wasn’t a big fan of this idea—leaving Josh outside—anyway, and your being purposely vague was making it worse.

She knew you were hiding something, and as soon as you got back to the safety of the lodge she was going to wring it out of you.

Sam ignores Ashley’s whines behind her as she begins to pace back and forth, deep in her thoughts. She mentally checks over all of the events that have happened tonight.

Chased by a psycho who was actually their friend, and apparently another of their friends is dead and two more are still somewhere out in the woods—

Sam’s thoughts are cut off by a sob escaping Ashley’s lips.

She sighs. “Ash, honey,” Sam approaches Ashley’s shivering form, placing each hand on the other girl’s shoulders and rubs her thumbs along them in an attempt to calm her. “They’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Okay? Just hang tight. Chris, Tex, and Mike will be back soon and we can figure out a plan.”

“I’m sorry,” Ash sobs, dropping her head in her hands. “It’s just—what the fuck is happening?”

Before Sam can respond, a sharp knock on the lodge door interrupts, drawing both girls’ attention to it. Sam turns back to Ashley, patting her arm. “See? Perfect timing. That’s probably them.” She moves to unlock and open the door, but her smile slowly vanishes as she sees only two people in front of her—and her girlfriend isn’t one of them.

“Where’s Tex.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Chris awkwardly shuffles away from Sam and closer towards Ashley as Sam glares up at Mike.

“She wanted to stay,” he replies. 

Sam crosses her arms and her stare hardens even more.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Look, I tried to get her to come back, but you know how she gets.”

Aggravation seeps from Sam as she huffs out a quick fine towards Mike and turns away from the rest of the group.

God, why couldn’t you care about your own safety for once? You were really stressing her out.

And here she was supposed to be the adventurous one.

Sam doesn’t have much more time to think about what you’re up to when a banging on the door sounds.

A faint let me in! can be heard and the voice is without a doubt Emily.

Chris is the first to reach the door, opening it for Emily as she falls inside.

“Shut the door! Oh my God, shut the door!” she yells out, scooting as far as possible as she can away from it.

They guide her all to the Great Room, sitting her on one of the couches as she tries to compose herself.

“I didn’t think I’d make it,” she mutters.

“Em, are you okay?” Chris asks.

“The hell was that?” Mike pipes in.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” Ashley whispers.

“Guys!” Sam cuts in. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The three stop, and the pause allows Emily to continue.

“There was something out there!” She cries. “Like, something bad.”

Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Like what?”

Sam sighs. “Em, relax...it was Josh. It was all Josh.”

“That issue’s been fixed,” Mike adds in from behind Sam, and she glares back up at him.

“No, no. Guys, you’re not listening!” Emily yells out, frustration evident in her voice. “There’s something else out there. Something really bad. Like…a monster.”

4:18

The ropes around Josh are just nearly untied when the unmistakable screech of the creature—of the Wendigo—fills your ears.

And it’s not very far away.

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter.

You take in your surroundings. The shed is almost entirely one big open space, not giving you many places to hide. Josh is clearly still out of it, uttering random phrases that are unintelligible to you. He keeps swaying and squirming, and you know he’ll be instant bait for the Wendigo.

“I’m sorry, Josh.” You wince, both at what’s about to come and the pounding headache that still ruminates inside you.

“Huh?—”

You wind your fist back and knock Josh out with one swift punch.

“It’s for your own good,” you say, hoping he can hear you, but also for your own comfort.

You get to work quickly. Josh is a lot heavier than you expected, especially with the stuffed overalls he’s still wearing weighing him down. You maneuver your arms through his as you try to pull him to the side, somewhere out of the open so the Wendigo doesn’t see him. But the rustling that you hear causes you to drop him quickly and find your own corner to hide from the creature that had just entered the shed.

You stay as still as you can, holding your breath as the Wendigo crawls into the shed, its head swiveling back and forth. Josh’s body is still laying on display, and you fear that the Wendigo will take him, even if he is unconscious.

When the Wendigo turns its head away from where you hide against a small pile of junk, you slowly reach into your waistband for your gun. When your hand hits nothing, you mentally curse. Once again, another thing you desperately needed that you left at the lodge.

You can only watch helplessly as the Wendigo snatches up Josh’s body with ease.

But a glimpse of black on the Wendigo’s wrinkly, leathered shoulder has you doing a double take.

It was unmistakably that of a tattoo. One in the shape of the butterfly. The same design of your friend’s tattoo, your friend that you lost a year ago.

Hannah?

4:30

You’ve already been waiting a good couple of minutes when you hear the crunch of snow outside, alerting you to someone out there. You listen closely, and there are two things you notice. One, there are definitely two pairs of footsteps, and two, those are definitely humans—not a Wendigo.

“Fucking damn,” you mutter as you stand up from your crouched position, trying to go through as many possible plans you can in a couple of seconds to try to save who was out there. But what could you possibly do with no weapon on you?

You didn’t know who would be coming out here right now. Mike and Chris surely would’ve told the others that you voluntarily hung back to keep an eye on Josh.

Was it the two of them, back to retrieve you for some reason? Or—and it better not be—Sam coming out here, wanting to see you?

You tug at the roots of your hair in frustration, and soon you can hear the voice of Chris just outside the closed doors.

“Here!”

The doors swing open carelessly slamming against the walls, and it takes all of the power in you not to run up over there and throttle Chris.

His eyes widen as he sees the empty stool that Josh was once sitting on, and you jump out of your hiding spot before he has a chance to speak again.

You raise a finger to your lips and your eyes widen sternly, indicating to Chris that he needed to shut the fuck up. As you approach, you’re startled to see that the person with Chris is someone you don’t recognize. It’s an older man, and by the amount of equipment he has on, he’s someone who’s been hardened by this environment, not someone who was called here to save you all.

Someone who definitely knows about the Wendigos and the curse upon Blackwood Mountain.

There’s a glint of familiarity in his good eye as he gazes upon you, almost as if he knows of your knowledge, of all that your parents have told you. Does he know them?

You can’t even ask him before Chris interrupts.

“Where’s Josh?”

“Shut it!” You hiss, your tone much quieter than his. “He’s gone. We can’t leave here yet. It’s not safe.”

Chris ignores you and shakes his head stubbornly. “No, we need to go back and warn the others.” He turns to leave the shed, and the strange man follows, likely trying to pull him back in. But Chris stumbles back into the snow, the man right on his heels. You stay back in the safety of the shed, lingering as you hope the man can convince Chris to get back in.

But within seconds, the rustle of the trees causes the blood to rush from your face. You know the Wendigo is very near, and it is definitely not happy.

You see the man gesture for Chris to stay still, and all seems to be going well until the Wendigo jumps right in front of the two.

“Run! Go! Now, now!” The man yells at Chris, and he himself only gets a few steps forward until the Wendigo nimbly darts across the area, a gangly arm outspread as it slashes the man’s throat with ease.

He goes slack and his body drops to his knees, his head detached from his shoulders as the now detached part rolls away from the owner, and closer to you.

You wince as you turn your head away from the unseemly sight, catching as Chris clumsily raises the shotgun in his hands and aims it at the Wendigo that is now poised to jump and attack him. His shot miraculously hits, and the Wendigo goes tumbling back.

“Oh, shit!” Chris stumbles backwards, falling into the snow, but he eventually gets up and runs away, disappearing into the forest as the Wendigo chases after him.

Hurriedly, you run out of the shed and over the man’s body when the Wendigo is a safe distance away. You scour his person for anything that would be of use to you; you immediately go for his flamethrower, strapping it securely around yourself. You notice a flask on him and take a quick swig before placing it back where it came from.

Now armed, you follow the path that Chris took back to lodge. You can only hope that you make it back in time to help him, but the unexpected weight of the flamethrower has you slowing down as you struggle between both it and the weight of the heavy snow on your feet.

4:43

It takes longer than you expected to make it back to the lodge, and the sight that greets you is not a pretty one. The Wendigo is nowhere in sight, but neither is Chris’s body—only his head remains. 

You inhale shakily as you see the furious red of his blood stain the pure white snow beneath it. You run over and see Ashley standing in front of the door, one palm flat against the glass and another covering her mouth as she cries.

As you approach the disturbing scene, you have to avert your eyes as you can feel the tears pooling up. If you were just a minute faster, you could have saved him.

Mike appears from behind Ash, pulling her back as he quickly unlocks the door for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Come on, we gotta get down to the basement. Now!” He ushers Ashley ahead and you follow the two behind, clinging to the flamethrower like a lifeline.

“What the fuck happened?” You ask them both, and you don’t even try to hide the anger in your tone. “Why the fuck did he leave the lodge?”

Ashley shuffles ahead down the stairs as Mike turns to you, and you’re startled by the pure anger in his eyes. “He told us everything,” he says, “and I have a good feeling I know what you’ve been hiding from us.”

You can feel all the color drain from your face and you feel utterly exposed under Mike’s gaze despite the many layers that cover you. There was no way out of this one. If that man knew just as much as your parents did and he told all of your friends all of what really lingered beneath the depths of Blackwood Mountain, you truly had nothing to hide anymore—your secrets were all exposed for them to know.

This was really not the way you wanted it all to turn out, but it seems as though the truth always found its way out, even if you weren’t ever ready for it.

It was time to fess up to your friends, and it was time to save them, and fast.

Character Traits: 

Honest: 4/10 

Charitable: 9/10 

Funny: 4/10  

Brave: 7/10 ↓

Romantic: 7/10 

Curious: 5/10 

Relationship Status:

Ashley: 6/10 

Chris: 7/10

Emily: 5/10

Jess: 3/10 

Josh: 7/10 

Matt: 7/10 

Mike: 5/10 ↓

Sam: 10/10

Chapter Eight || Chapter Ten

[theclaravoyant]

Ripples (Hen, Tommy) - 1400wd

AN ~ i am obsessed with sweet, sweet platonic content and the hentommy moment we may never get, so i'm giving us one.

In the middle of a building collapse (because of course they are), Hen and Tommy catch up. Read on AO3 (~1500wd)

-

It's coming down!

The ear-shattering screech of steel and concrete is the only thing Hen can hear for a long moment after she throws herself forward into the hallway. The roof is holding out here, although the concrete dust isn't helping as the air is becoming dangerously smokey. A torn electrical line spits out aimless sparks. But she's okay.

Grimacing against the oncoming headache, she gets to her feet and takes stock.

“Ravi, you okay?”

“Partial floor collapse back here when the ceiling came down,” Ravi reports from somewhere out of sight. He coughs. “I'm down a floor, but I'm okay.”

“Kinard?”

Nothing.

“Tommy? Come in.”

“Hen?”

His voice is weak, but she's not just hearing it through the comms. Hen turns back to the pile of rubble, sifting through sheets of ceiling plaster and trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. Soon enough, she sees a hand wave.

“Got you,” she assures him. “How you feeling?”

He groans. She frowns as she clears the last of the lighter debris, and can see why, because of course he's not been lucky enough to catch a bit of plaster and plywood. He's stuck face-down, the whole back half of his body pinned under probably a half a tonne of rubble.

“My leg,” he advises. “Right's okay I- I think. Left is really- oh, Christ, I think it's twisted up pretty bad. At least it was. I can't- I don't think I can feel it anymore.”

Tommy's breath shakes like he's fighting off a panic attack as Hen requests assistance. Possible spinal. Even when she manages to get both of their halligans under there and relieve some of the pressure, there's only so much that can be seen from here of his bloody mess of a knee. She can only confirm that it's highly unlikely his toes are actually moving. And sure, it means maybe nothing but maybe it means a pinched nerve or amputation or permanent paralysis or, or, or – in other words; no more being a firefighter, no more being a pilot, no more of a lot of other things too probably and that hurts so much more than the fact that half his body's being pulverised into the floor.

“Come on now,” Hen challenges gently. “You know better than to take it to the worst case scenario.”

He nods as best he can down here. He's starting to feel cold and shake and it's got to be some kind of stress response. Is he going into shock?

“I also know better,” he manages, “than putting myself on the call roster for the craziest firehouse in LA.”

“Yeah, well. We all do stupid things for pretty boys, hm?”

He can picture it, the smirk on her face; equal parts compassion and mischievousness. It makes him feel warmer and stop clenching his jaw. He hadn't even realised he was doing that. But she's right, and she's picked a hell of a time to bring it up, and it's working: thinking of Evan and his boyish smile and his big blue eyes brings his heart rate down, steadies his breathing...

Hen settles in beside him. She's close enough to check his brachial pulse, or grab him and yank him forward – possible spinal be damned - if anything else goes down, but as it is, they wait.

After a few breaths of reassuringly collapse-sounds-free silence, Tommy asks:

“So, how's Karen and Denny?”

It almost makes her laugh. He's still face down and bleeding under a roof and for his tone, they could be stood free and clear around an average office water cooler. Ah, the life of a firefighter.

“They're good,” Hen assures him. “Great, actually. You know, Denny's almost fourteen?”

“Wow. Way to make me feel old.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Evan tells me you guys have a daughter now too?”

“Mara,” Hen updates him. “She's nine. Came to us through foster. She's been through a lot but we're getting there. She's really strong, and she's working really hard, you know, to heal.”

“Good, that's good. Sounds like she's got a bright future ahead of her,” Tommy congratulates. Then a more sombre tone settles into his voice. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

It's something about having your whole life and livelihood hanging in the balance that brings out this sort of confessional in people, Hen knows. She's both always wary of it, and also sort of addicted to the kind of radical honesty that constantly spilling your literal actual guts tends to inspire. So even as she tries to get out - “Tommy, we don't have to do this,” - she braces herself to accept whatever is about to come next as if it's the last thing he'll ever get to say.

“I'm sorry I was such a dick to you,” he says, “back in the day. I wish I could say I just got caught up in the machismo and stuff but honestly I- I didn't know any better. And I didn't really want to try. But you, and Chim, you're some of the best firefighters out there and I didn't give you guys your due and I'm sorry.”

Tears prick at Hen's eyes, and it doesn't help the sweat and smoke and concrete dust that's still settling all around them. She'd patched over these wounds a long time ago but it feels nice all the same, freeing in a way she hadn't anticipated, to get an apology she was never going to ask for.

“You know,” Tommy continues, softer now. “I think you saved my life.”

“Uh, pretty sure I'm up to about six counts of that,” she jests, because she can feel it coming;

“I'm not talking about in the field.”

There it is.

Hen's breath catches in her throat as Tommy finds the courage to recount it. She's felt it coming for a long time now, maybe even years, but certainly since he'd strode into Chim's hospital room all giddy and covered with soot and with Buck she'd kind of wondered. Wondered what her crying and demanding to be seen in the middle of the firehouse floor all those years ago might have actually done. It had done a lot for her, but she'd never quite be ready to hear, let alone to contemplate, what those words might have done for a man who'd grown up in a military family under don't ask don't tell – the same policy that had kept Karen's dream out of reach until it was too late. For a man who'd not grown up having and valuing marginalised experiences; not having a bad-ass, butch as hell mother who'd always taught her to speak her truth, even if that truth was something said mother had struggled to deal with at first. He'd been taught how to be a man and a gentleman and a soldier and not much else. He'd never realised what intimacy could actually be like, what love could actually be like; he'd thought he'd scared off every girl he'd ever had because there was something abnormal about him. Something fundamentally unloveable.

“... Bits and pieces, looking back – you know how it is. I'd just always sort of thought there was something wrong with me. I'd never really seen any other possibility. Until you. So. I know I'm late to the party, but for what it's worth – I see you now, Hen. And I am honoured to call you Captain.”

Hen nods, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as some of those tears splash down her cheeks. In spite of herself she feels something reach back in time and touch her fierce, heartbroken younger self; a promise that it's going to be worth it one day.

“It's worth a lot, Tommy,” she manages. “Thank you.”

Then, the radio crackles back to life.

“Cap,” Eddie reports, “Ambulances from the 133 pulling up. 118 should be on you now.”

Footsteps clamour down the hall toward them, as Ravi, Buck and Chim rush in, backboard and hydraulic jack in hand. Chim pushes the morphine, Ravi pushes the pain point of the rubble away, Buck and Hen slide Tommy out and even though he yelps and moans Buck can't hide the joy and relief that breaks out on his face as they flip him onto his back and slide him onto the backboard in swift, perfectly matched unison like a well-oiled machine.

“We've got you,” Buck promises, squeezing one of Tommy's trembling hands with a sweaty, giddy smile. He glances over at Hen, and checks in - “You good?”

What do you think it is? he'd asked her once. The secret to happiness?

He's in the middle of a burning building, and it looks like it's pouring out of him now.

“I'm great,” she replies. “Let's move.”

[scribbling-dragon]

Watcher’s Nest Café

Chapter 4

summary:

“Morning sunshine!”

“Martyn,” he turns to face the man. The man that has, unfortunately, become a fixture at the café over the past few weeks. He’s even taken up residence along the front bar when Scott is working. Which is always. Martyn’s greeting catches up with him a moment later, brain lagging several seconds behind their conversation. “Sunshine?”

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(2,961 words)

The sun is bright and it’s hurting his already aching eyes. It’s enough to give him a headache on the best of days, and today is incredibly far from the best of days. Because the café is busy. Which isn't unusual in and of itself, it’s always busy, people coming and going, sitting or leaving; but it’s extra busy today, and has been extra busy for the last week.

It happens every year, every single time, and yet, without fail, he sometimes forgets that it’s approaching. That the time until the end of the year is ticking down, with the months getting colder and the days getting shorter in the lead up to the winter holidays. And in the lead up to many, many papers needing to be turned in. And the café has free wi-fi, as long as you buy something.

Thus, Scott is stuck making the cheapest drink they have, over and over, and watching people cram themselves into booths with their friends- they're always far too overconfident in being able to fit five people, plus any study materials or laptops or notes or binders they've brought with them, into a tiny booth that he’s watched struggle to take three people. It’s always funny to watch them elbow each other, at least, but he’d rather they weren't here at all.

His leg aches more during these periods as well, with both the cold weather and the increased customers taking a toll on him. He refuses to acknowledge the lack of sleep and how that’s probably affecting it too- he’s survived on less sleep and done better than this.

“Morning sunshine!”

“Martyn,” he turns to face the man. The man that has, unfortunately, become a fixture at the café over the past few weeks. He’s even taken up residence along the front bar when Scott is working. Which is always. Martyn’s greeting catches up with him a moment later, brain lagging several seconds behind their conversation. “Sunshine?”

He hopes Martyn can hear the derision he injects into that single word. He’s been told it’s a talent, his ability to make someone want to shrivel up and die as soon as he spares them a glance and a few choice words. Martyn is, apparently, immune to this as he simply throws his bag onto the front bar with a dangerous sounding clunk and leans across the counter, towards him.

“But you're always so pleased to see me?” Martyn says, grinning, “And you have that winning smile, well, you're practically beaming!”

“Flattery is not a good look on you.” The till beeps as he punches several buttons, Martyn’s order as predictable as ever. “Neither is lying.”

Martyn hums in response, noncommittal, and dips his head a few times as though agreeing. He remains leaned up against the counter, even as Scott steps away to make his drink. He should be thankful that most of their actual customers have been chased off by the sudden influx of sleep-deprived and stressed students, because otherwise he would be forced to tell Martyn to shove off and wait somewhere else.

As it is, he doesn't mind Martyn waiting there. Even if the intensity with which he watches Scott make his drink is more than a little unsettling.

“Worried I might poison it?” He asks, wiping a cloth over the steam wand.

“Oh, certainly,” Martyn’s still grinning when he turns around, which would be irritating if it didn't make him look so attractive. There is a god out there, somewhere, that gets a kick out of making incredibly attractive yet utterly annoying men, he just knows it. And as soon as he finds out which god it is, he’s going to kill them. “Timmy’s told me plenty of stories.”

“Has he?” He sets the drink down in front of Martyn, though he doesn't take it immediately and retreat to his seat. He remains leaned over the counter, forearms braced against it as he grins up at Scott.

“Oh, yes,” Martyn nods sagely, as though he’s imparting some amazing wisdom. “He’s told me that it is an incredibly bad idea to piss off the man making your drinks, no matter how curious you are about him.”

“Oh really?”

Scott hadn't missed the numerous conversations Jimmy has had with Martyn- a lot of them had been through odd facial expressions alone, but he is nothing if not skilled in the art of weird expressions, so he got the main gist of it. Especially when Martyn would sit and sulk at his laptop, not typing, whenever Jimmy won their silent arguments.

“Mhm, mhm,” Martyn continues to nod, reaching forward to curl his hands around his mug. “And I, for once, trust in his judgement.”

“He’ll be thrilled when I tell him.”

Martyn clears his throat, almost awkwardly, eyes dancing away from him. “I, uh, yeah. I am sorry for what I asked about the other day- I'm not saying that I'm not still curious, because lying to you is probably a bad idea,” it is, but Scott won't tell him that. “And I think you're quite nice really, even if your favourite hobby seems to be snapping at rude customers and then stealing a couple pounds from their pockets.”

“I didn't know you were watching me so closely,” Scott can work with this. Oh, he can absolutely work with this. He grins, leaning a little closer. “One would almost think you liked me, Martyn, hm? Focusing on me rather than your rather important essay that you need to have finished by the end of this week.”

“It’s drafted, it’s fine,” Martyn waves it off, though Scott doesn't miss the momentary panic that crosses his face at the mention of his essay. “Besides, I was more than a little worried about you actually poisoning me, gods know what you actually have under that counter- Timmy says it’s a bunch of tea, but I trust him as far as I can throw him sometimes.”

“I’d better make you a new drink, then.” Scott sighs, going to pull the coffee away from Martyn.

“I- huh?” Martyn jerks his hands back from the mug as though he’s been scalded, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he looks between Scott and his mug then back again. “What do you mean?” He lowers his voice to a hiss, leaning closer, as though someone might overhear.

Scott is almost disappointed that Cleo isn't here today, but they’d cited something about not being able to focus with the amount of chattering in the café currently, and Pix had agreed with her. Meaning he was being abandoned for the foreseeable future.

“Well, I was going to just let you drink that, but then you apologised and I’ll feel bad if you start frothing at the mouth now.” He frowns at Martyn, then grins as he notices the man’s eyes drop to his lips, linger for a little too long to be just friendly, then look back up to his eyes.

“You actually poisoned it?” Oh, man, now he wishes he’d recorded this. Just so he could replay how Martyn’s voice squeaked.

“Of course not,” he scoffs, pushing the mug back towards Martyn. “That’d be a quick way to lose my job.”

“And stealing from customers isn't?”

“Not if they don't catch me,” Martyn seems more than a little reluctant to take the coffee now, eyeing it warily as though it might jump out of the mug and bite him. “Besides, only customers that are never going to come back leave with their pockets a little lighter.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Martyn says, but he has a teasing glint in his eyes as he finally takes the mug and retreats to his seat.

*

“G’morning.”

“Hey G,” he looks up, takes in his friend’s appearance. “Rough night?”

“Rough week.” Grian doesn't even bother to order anything- Scott knows his order off by heart by now and can just ring him up before he leaves. Technically not something he’s meant to do, but Grian also knows that Scott will hunt him for sport if he leaves without paying. “Do you know how terrible I feel right now?”

“I can probably guess.” Scott is trying his very best not to judge, but Grian is wearing his sweater inside out and back to front, and it also looks like it hasn't been taken off in several days, rumpled and with a small stain on the front. “You look like you just rolled out of a bin.”

“Thanks.” Grian snorts, head still resting on the front bar. “You really know how to make someone feel special.”

“I have something that might help in feeling better,” he hands Grian his drink in a takeaway cup. He’s seen how Grian, and most of his friends, get around this time of year and there are several regulars he will not give their mugs to, out of fear of breaking them and having to explain the damages to his boss.

“You're the most wonderful person I know,” Grian croaks out, absolutely putting it on for show now.

“I’ll remind you of that next time you complain about me.”

“Go ahead,” Grian sips at the still burning-hot drink, grimaces, and then takes another mouthful. “You won't remember it either.”

Scott works in silence for a few moments, wiping down the counter, stacking the boxes of coffee and tea back where they're meant to sit. He then leans against the counter, cloth still clutched in one hand as he looks over at Grian.

“I beat your record.”

“What?” Grian squawks, head shooting up. He sounds almost like a bird, which is something Scott’s pretty certain he’s picked up from Jimmy (and the host of other avian friends the man has- seriously, he collects them like cards) because the man is human as can be. “How?”

“You underestimate how rude students are at this time of year.” He shrugs, wiping at a non-existent speck of dirt on the counter. “And how little they notice before they've had some coffee. And by then it’s already in the tip jar.”

Grian sighs, then laughs a little, murmuring, “The pupil has become the master.”

“I was always better than you anyway.”

Grian’s head shoots up. “No you were not-”

*

“Afternoon, sunshine.”

“You need to stop calling me that.”

“I think it fits you,” Pearl chimes in, from the other side of the counter.

“You don't get an opinion, Pearl.” Scott shoots back. “What can I get for you today? Ready to branch out and try new things?”

“Same as always,” Martyn grins. “Though, I might try one of your brownies, I've heard they're rather nice.”

“Pearl puts whatever she can find in them, so it’s your funeral if it was out of date and she didn't notice.” He rings Martyn up, holding the card machine out to the man.

“Hey!” Pearl pops up beside him, eyes narrowed playfully. “I’ll have you know that you are the only person to have eaten something funny in any of my brownies ever.”

“So it’s special treatment?” He uses the tongs to grab one of the brownies from the top of the stack, sticking it on a plate and sliding it towards Martyn. “I feel honoured.”

“As you should,” Pearl sniffs, attempting to look down her nose at him, which would work better if she was taller than Scott. But alas.

“That’ll be ready for you in a moment,” he tells Martyn. “Feel free to grab a seat.”

Martyn does so without complaint, though Scott notices that he doesn't pull his laptop out, nor does he retrieve his textbook - marine biology, Scott had managed to catch a glimpse at the cover two weeks ago while the man was lugging it around - instead, he simply sits and watches.

It would be unsettling if he wasn't already used to it. And besides, having an attractive man watching him like that? Scott is hardly going to complain. But Martyn’s stare is far more intense today, threatening to burn a hole straight through his head with how hard he’s staring at him. Normally, Scott can ignore it pretty well, put it out of his mind as he makes his drink and then get on with his business easily enough.

Martyn’s still staring when he turns around, watching him with his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, as though thinking. He doesn't react when Scott looks at him, nor does he react when he gives him a questioning look. His eyes continue to be fixed on that spot of air, not following Scott around as he adds the last touches to his drink.

It’s only when he sets the latte down in front of Martyn that the man seems to startle free from his reverie, blinking several times. He then looks down at the coffee, and back up at Scott, as though he’s unsure how he got here.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“You're not sorry at all,” Martyn laughs into his drink, already raising it to his mouth to take a sip. If Scott were a nicer person, he would remind him that it’s hot, but he’s not, so he watches him burn his mouth instead. Martyn coughs and then swallows it, taking another sip, as though Scott didn't notice.

Pearl is washing the dirty dishes in the sink, so Scott is on the till. Which is right beside where Martyn is sitting. Martyn chances a glance over at him from the corner of his eye, probably trying to check if he saw him burn his mouth, only to find Scott already watching him.

He grins.

“You know,” Martyn says. The hand resting on the table taps an irregular rhythm against its surface. “You never responded to my apology.”

“What response did you want?” Scott tips his head to the side, watching from the corner of his eye as a group of students starts packing up. “Me to fall over, swooning, at you giving an apology for prying into my personal life?”

“That…makes it sound a lot worse than it actually was,” Martyn frowns.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. Some of his hair is coming loose, swinging in front of his face. He sees Martyn’s eyes follow it, watching as he tucks it back with a gloved hand. 

“Sorry about that, again,” Martyn winces. “But I was thinking,”

“Oh dear,”

“I was thinking that I could make it up to you, maybe, like, take you out for coffee somewhere? Smooth things over all nice- maybe share several embarrassing stories about Jimmy?”

He stares at Martyn. He’s not actually sure if the man is being serious.

Martyn’s face twists in confusion, brows furrowing as he stares at Scott. Scott stares back. “Uh, you alright? You can just say no if you want to, I won't be offended, I swear.”

Scott stares at him for a moment longer.

“Okay, that’s kinda freaky. Can you stop?” Martyn’s leaning back in his chair slightly. “Please?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to figure out how you got into your marine biology course.”

“How do you know I do- actually, nevermind. What do you mean trying to figure out how I got in?”

“How someone so stupid got into a science course.” Pearl is listening now. He can tell, even though she hasn't actually moved from where she stands at the sink. He can tell, because the clinking of mugs and plates has stopped, meaning she isn't washing them to listen better.

“I'm not stupid.”

“Yes you are.” He holds up a hand when Martyn goes to protest. “No, you just asked a coffee shop manager to go out to coffee with you. Tell me how any part of that is remotely smart.”

Martyn blinks at him for several moments. Several, very long moments. “Okay. Maybe not my best and most thought out plan- I'm not exactly going to invite you to a bar am I?”

“Well no, you wouldn't be able to afford it.”

Martyn makes an offended noise in the back of his throat at that, mouth opening to speak. Before he can make another suggestion, Pearl interrupts, resting her chin on his shoulder to look at Martyn.

“Why don't you invite him to the party we’re having?” She asks, “That’s next week.”

“I, yeah, actually,” Martyn nods, “that’s not a bad idea at all.”

“You're having a party next week?” He turns on Pearl. “And you didn't invite me?”

“I was gonna!” Pearl insists. “But it’s a good thing I didn't, huh? Because otherwise Martyn wouldn't have a good excuse to spend more time with you.” She then blinks very hard, which Scott is pretty sure is her attempt at a wink. He swallows down a laugh.

He turns back to Martyn and says, “Sure. I’ll come.”

“Oh, really?” Martyn looks actually surprised that he’s accepted. “Oh neat, well, you're gonna have to bring a drink of some kind.”

“One of those parties?”

“Yup!” Pearl nods, “We’re celebrating surviving the last week of this term.”

“Proud of you for doing that.” He pats Pearl on the shoulder, “It’s a miracle you didn't kill anyone.”

“How do you know I haven't already?”

He laughs, because he’s not sure what else he’s meant to do when Pearl gives him her best dead-eyed stare and he’s reminded of that one time they bumped into each other outside of work, at night, and her eyes shone like a cat’s.

Martyn starts laughing after a moment as well, but it’s got a faintly worried note to it and when Scott looks at him, his eyes are a little wider than normal, smile a little strained around the edges.

He leaves the conversation there, because there is no good way to continue it after someone says that. Pearl seems pleased with herself, at least.

[purplekissinger]

You’re the entire circus

(guys english is not my native language, so this might look weird and im very sorry for any mistakes that ive made and the style in general. tw: it seems a bit a yandere)

Bunny Corcoran being sliiiiiiightly obsessed with you wold look like:

OH BOI that escalated quickly.

He noticed you first and took action immediately.

Let's be honest, Marion was not the brightest, although their relationship was kinda wholesome (up to a certain point). However, I think that, aside from the mother figure thing, Bunny is also desperately looking for a way to join that subculture that the rest of the club fits in so naturally. He kinda uses you as a key to this world; Imagine you two are in the library, you patiently explain something to him and oddly enough he listens carefully (whoever witnesses this is left in a slight shock).

Hungry for your praise. This vicious circle goes on and on, he plays on pity with endless whining, you give up and say something comforting or  affectionate, he swallows it greedily and asks for more, more, more. (Please validate him).

Steals your stuff constantly and it's a PROBLEM. Say goodbye to a bunch of your hair ties, lipstick tubes and earrings. You'd be willing to swear someone looked in the underwear drawer too.

Remember the period when the greek geeks were secretly watching Bunny, and he was not so secretly following them? Yes. He's too bulky and awkward to be an invisible stalker like Richard, but that doesn't stop him. His rabbit ears are always somewhere nearby.

If Bunny thinks that someone is pestering his baby, then he is right there, already wedged into the conversation, voice raised fists throwing. Actually, that's the reason why you don't get to talk to the guys on campus at all, because he always reads the situation as threatening. By the level of jealousy, perhaps, he can be compared with Henry, and that level is very high.

Being rather conservative person, he will most likely try to get you into a relationship as soon as possible. If he succeeds, he will become a little tamer (but also bolder at the same time). If his hand is not on your shoulder, then it is on your waist. Instantly starts going around calling you “Mrs. Corcoran” and introduces you to his insufferable family.

Oh so you decided to reject him? Well, it's time to find out just how annoying he can be (spoiler there’s no limit). Whatever unstable peace you had is over, he just can’t leave you alone. If for some reason you’re not in the greek class, Bunny skips his lectures shamelessly to follow you and give you another headache.

Tl dr Bunny is not that dangerous, but you have no personal space now. His stubbornness and energy are incomparable.

‘So it really seemed like a good idea to you?’ you ask coldly. ‘Steal someone else's breakfast and eat it in front of everyone? You thought I didn't recognize the box?’

At first Bunny pretends to not understand, and does not even stop chewing on a pancake generously covered with maple syrup. He looks at you thoughtfully (brows furrowed, Latin textbook is pressed to your chest like a shield), then lowers his gaze and suddenly smiles charmingly.

‘Ah, so it's yours. I should have guessed. You're from Montreal, you probably don't eat anything there without a couple of buckets of this slurry. Well, there's one more left, care to join me?’

He's lying. Not only he did know that it was your breakfast, he's been deliberately choosing your box for several weeks (he obviously takes some strange pleasure in thinking that you cooked this food with your own hands). You could have easily exposed his shenanigans, if there was even a shred of hope that this circus would stop.

‘Go to hell’, you wave your hand wearily and sit beside him. ‘Bunny, if you're starving, just say so. We’ll start a charity fund. I think it should be enough for you at least for a couple of months’.

He snorts, wiping the crumbs on his sleeve, and deftly puts his hand on the back of the bench behind you. That's it, you're now sitting like a cute couple, only a cocktail with two straws is missing. You pick up a a fork absentmindedly, then take a small bite. Perhaps the syrup was indeed superfluous.

‘How is your Latin? The last translation was a tricky one’, he asked casually, and if you didn’t know him so well you might have thought that he had actually done it.

You wrinkled your nose as you opened your textbook to a bookmarked page, and Bunny reached for it eagerly. Immediately, you lightly slapped him on the palm of his hand: ‘Hey, wash your hands first. The last one you say?’

‘Actually’, he coughed shyly, ‘the third one would also be nice to check’.

You open the first exercise without asking any more questions. You want to get mad at Bunny, and he obviously tries his best to help you with this, but in vain: he’s just too sweet in his spontaneity. Di immortales, if only he wasn't so annoying! Last week you caught him waist-deep in your locker, and five minutes later you forgave him from the bottom of your heart.

Luckily for him, that night Bunny was too busy breaking into your room while being drunk and then had a long argument with your roommate Anika, and then fell asleep peacefully in the hallway. 

He never knew what fatum had not befallen him.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Dead Beauty AU (Chapter seven!!)

In other words, about 3k words of everyone’s favourite de Vil cousins accomplishing exactly nothing.

They got to the garden slowly, walking at leisurely pace – no need to rush, really, since it’ll take some time for Carlos to get there, anyway. On unrelated note, Ivy has scraped up her knee; she was sliding on the railing by the stairs, as she just didn’t feel like dealing with the stairs today, not in her high heels at least.

Whatever.

The blood just adds to the aesthetic anyway.

And the bruise can be a future her problem.

She abruptly stops right in front of the lawn, if it can be called that, really: Overgrown weed sharp enough to cut skin, thorny bushes, some vaguely leafy stuff that she’s pretty sure she saw one of the Mims harvesting at some point.

It occurs to her that they should have demanded a payment for that, or at least a discount in the Apothecary.

Diego finally stops too, already halfway through the miserable parody of a lawn, and glares at them.

Ivy glares back and loses her balance a bit; she holds onto Claudine as she removes her heels.

She’s not walking on grass in heels, who do you think she is?!

She holds Claudine’s hand in one hand and her shoes in the other when she steps into the garden.

The ground feels weird under her bare feet, all squishy and muddy in all the wrong ways; she frowns and drops the shoes, as she has just decided they’re too much trouble anyway.

Neither Claudine nor Diego pick them up.

Besides, the gate just creaked. They should probably do something about that, it’s giving her a headache – then again, it does work like a rather effective alarm system, and making it shut up would just be entirely too much work.

And really, soon, they join them: Carlos and the Badun kids, who just as quickly leave with a very rude „try not to die,“ to which Ivy pays no mind.

„Carlito!“ she lets go of Claudine and stumbles over to her baby cousin – the long stems of grass were maliciously weaving in between her legs, yeah?

Carlos catches her before she can fall and she holds onto his shoulders and gives him a greeting kiss on the cheek – she needs to stand on her tiptoes for that, now!

Her baby cousin grew so much since she saw him–

Somewhere back in her mind, she recognises that might have something to do with the access to actual food and the distinct lack of Cruella that there is in Auradon.

Larger part of her doesn’t really care right now.

„How are you?“ she takes a step back, remembering his disdain for casual touch; she steps into Claudine again. Neat.

„Why didn’t you visit us?“

„Yeah,“ Diego says, trying his best not to sound angry, „Why didn’t you at least tell us you are back?“ He then proceeds to hug Carlos and almost lift him off the ground, by which Carlos is entirely unamused. Ivy smiles.

„Hi,“ adds Claudine with an honestly impressive amount of indifference. Ivy gives her a kiss on the cheek.

„What the fuck–“ mutters Carlos and Diego just cackles, that bastard.

„Rude,“ comments Claudine towards both of them, Ivy pressumes.

„You know what’s also rude?“ answers another voice, high and already grating on her nerves. When she looks around, she sees no one else who could be talking. Weird. „Ignoring me! No one has greeted me yet!“

Ivy thinks she has managed to locate whoever spoke, but– it’s some mangy thing, a dog barely big enough to make a fur hat from, not that Ivy would wear a fur hat. Why, that thing was not even fashionable in the sixties!

She shakes her head and looks around to find the annoying Isle rat that made the mistake of trying to prank the de Vils; she sees Diego and Claudine gaping at the dog; Carlos shaking his head at it all.

„Really, Dude?“ he sighs, „I told you not to come with me!��

Wait. 

Wait a fucking minute.

„That thing’s real?!“ Ivy shrieks and staggers backwards, „That dog’s fucking talking?!“

Claudine grips her arm hard enough to bruise and searches for a knife; Ivy steps in between the– the <i>thing</i> and Claudine.

„Not for long,“ says Diego with deceiving calmness, finally breaking from his own surprise, „I’m gonna get the gun.“

He turns around mechanically and walks back towards the Hell Hall; when he glances back, Ivy thinks his eyes are not quite there.

„Wait!“ whisper–yells Carlos after him, „That’s just Dude – I mean, my dog! Don’t– don’t hurt him!“

Oh, hurt it– They’ll merely be putting that thing out of its misery.

Silver gleams through the dull Isle air, a yelp of pain or maybe just surprise: there’s a knife in the ground where the dog’s head was just a moment ago.

And neither Ivy nor Claudine have any other weapon.

Carlos picks the <i>still fucking talking</i> dog up and mutters calming nothings to it; Claudine clutches Ivy’s arm harder, clearly distressed. Yeah, that’s definitely gonna bruise.

Anyway.

„Ivy it’s– it’s talking, it’s talking it must be possessed or–“ Claudine hisses and holds on tighter yet, „Ivy, the Lord has decided. This is the end–“

She descends into what Ivy can only presume is a prayer and still doesn’t let go; Ivy brushes her fingers over hers. Just – please, she’s a de Vil. She’s <i>so</i> not dying by some talking dog.

„No end, love,“ she tells her, „Diego’s getting the gun and then you can get perhaps gloves from this thing, or anything. We’re de Vils, remember?“

„And you’re not killing my dog,“ butts in Carlos, as if anyone asked him. „There’s this neat thing called breaking the generational cycle of expectations,“ he informs her and, again, Ivy doesn’t fucking care.

She turns her back to Carlos.

„Honestly, Ives, you’re doing this on purpose.“

Well, duh.

If he didn’t get too smart in Auradon, that little shit – oh, who is he kidding. He always had too sharp tongue for his own good. Usually, it was more amusing.

„If you’re just gonna sulk the whole time, I’m gonna leave.“

Well, that seems like his problem, if he won’t hear about the boy king, then. 

Ivy tried.

„Say hi to Diego for me.“

She doesn’t think she will – oh, who is she kidding. They’re her cousins. She turns around again, to see Carlos honestly very reluctantly backing away. She almost smiles at that – It goes both ways. They’re family.

„Where do you think you are going?“ interrupts Diego. He is really good at that. 

Claudine finally shuts up and loosens her grip, her fingers pale, bloodless. Ivy rubs them with her own.

„Ives,“ Diego turns at her, „The gun is gone.“

Carlos stops now that he assumes no danger for his poor excuse of a dog and Ivy starts laughing.

Oh, just– „This is too good!“ she cackles, „Harry Hook must have nicked it – don’t you think, Claudine?“ Claudine just hisses. She doesn’t particularly like Harry.

Diego answers with something like „Dear god in the fucking Heaven, why–“ and Claudine hisses again. Ivy doesn’t see the problem – the Hooks with a gun is going to get oh so entertaining– She doesn’t stop laughing.

„Also, I think Auntie heard me,“ adds Diego, „So we better get going.“ He motions at the tree house.

Ivy makes a long face as they start moving and Carlos asks: „Why was Harry Hook here?“

„Curiosity killed the cat,“ she bitches at her darling cousin, „Or that dog, or whatever that is.“

Carlos doesn’t dignify that with a response. Diego unfortunately does: „Oh, you know. They were just trying to poison one another. Or fuck one another. I’m not sure.“

Claudine flings the lighter at his head. Lovely.

„Go get, that, sweetheart,“ Ivy nudges her, because, lighter, you see, „And you go fuck yourself, Diego.“

„Oh, don’t worry about me, Ivana.“

„You know what, Claudine, you can just throw that at him again. Or light him on fire.“

„You can certainly try.“

Claudine walks over to Ivy though, pulling her close, which is good for closely unspecified reasons, and instead eyes the dog, which would probably burn way better than Diego anyway. Carlos clutches the dog closer and hisses something like „One fucking conversation,“ and Ivy has no idea what he means, really.

She turns up her nose as she motions for him to start climbing up; she grabs the rope ladder after him.

„If you fall, I’m not catching you, Ivana,“ Diego informs her. That doesn’t sound like her problem.

She puts both of her feet at the ladder and gasps out in surprise when the thing swings; the partitions dig harshly into her bare feet.

„I’m not falling,“ she growls through her teeth.

„Yeah, sure.“

„…Why would she fall?“ asks Carlos, already mostly up, and didn’t she just tell him curiosity killed the cat? Honestly.

„Oh, I don’t know– Might be the poison. Might be the alcohol. Or Auntie’s sleeping pills,“ Diego says obnoxiously, and all of these are absolutely fine, Ivy will let you know. Just a little something to get her by. She giggles.

„For good– Holly hell, Ivy! Get down right this second, we can talk somewhere else!“ Oh, look, now her baby cousin has the audacity to pretend he looks after her. Well, fuck that.

Ivy laughs more and starts climbing up, ignoring both his protests and the way the rope burns at her hands. She just hopes her nails don’t get damaged from this escapade, that’d be a shame.

„Are you okay?“ he asks when he helps her climb into the treehouse, and why wouldn’t she be? She just laughs more.

„…Yeah, I think I’m gonna take that as a no.“ Always so clever, this baby cousin of hers.

She moves away from the trapdoor so Claudine and Diego could follow after them and asks:

„Me– What about you, Carlos? How’s Auradon treating you?“

He bites his lip, trying to find his words, and meanwhile, Claudine climbs in, very unhappy with the whole ordeal and rubbing at her hands. Ivy pulls her close and settles down, gives her the lighter so she wouldn’t just run her fingers raw.

Diego’s in now, too, finally, and:

„He must be bored in Auradon, Ivy,“ he teases, „For that to happen.“ He motions at the dog.

Speaking of which, Ivy would like to know if all dogs in Auradon talk, or just those that have the misfortune of meeting the de Vil family.

„That’s Dude,“ repeats Carlos, „He’s my friend.“

„And it’s talking,“ points out Ivy, eyeing it warily. Claudine runs her fingers too close to the flame and starts muttering prayers into her skin.

„Yes, because– well because me and Mal– Because Jane–“

Ivy perks up at the unfamiliar name, as does Diego. 

„Jane?“

„Who is Jane?“

A distinct blush creeps into Carlos’ cheeks as he stammers the most unconvincing „No one!“ Ivy has ever heard.

„Come on, Carlito,“ she coos at him, „Who is Jane? Is she someone special?“ She threads her fingers through Claudine’s hair, just because she can.

„Come on, little man!“ adds on Diego, „Tell us! Maybe we can help you!“

„Please?“

Now, Ivy doesn’t beg, just– relationship drama, you see.

„I– fine,“ Carlos allows, still blushing, „Jane is a girl I… <i>fancy</i>,“ he frowns at the unfamiliar Auradonian word, „Fairy Godmother’s daughter.“

Oh, yes, relationship drama and also – Carlos’ first crush! Ivy squeaks and Diego whistles; Claudine flinches at the sound.

„And I… I kinda… sorta…“

„He’s a coward!“ jumps in the <i>rude</i> talking dog. No one asked him. It’s only fair Claudine throws the coincidentally still lit lighter at it.

Ivy and Diego laugh as Carlos scrambles after it and:

„Yes! Yes, we can most certainly help with that.“

„How does I can’t talk to a girl become there is now a hellish abomination of a talking dog?“ asks Claudine, extending her hand to get the lighter back, and, yeah, reasonable question, actually.

„Hey!“ barks out the demon-dog. Everybody ignores it.

„Yeah,“ Ivy prods at her cousin and snatches the lighter, which he doesn’t want to give back, for some reason, „How did that happen? Nearly gave me heart attack.“

Well, not really, but close enough.

„It’s lucky we don’t have the gun and I don’t wanna dirty my knives,“ adds Diego, running his fingertips over one of his blades, which looks fun. The fire is better though.

„I– Diego, no. Dude is mine,“ says Carlos, focusing on the incorrect part of this situation.

„Yeah, too late to kill him now anyway.“

Ivy looks at Claudine and at then at the dog: „Is it though?“ She wonders if Claudine will be more upset by the dog’s continual survival or Carlos by its death. „I suppose it’s much too ugly to be of use anyway.“

„Hey! I’m very pretty!“ protests the fucking animal and Ivy catches Claudine’s hand to stop her from throwing the lighter again.

„Shut up, Dude,“ sighs Carlos, „This is a good thing.“

„It’s not!“

See? 

That thing just <i>wants to</i> die.

And still, how is it talking anyway?

„Anyway,“ Carlos grabs his dog around the muzzle to shut it up, fucking finally, „Mal kinda gave me a truth gummy so I’d finally tell Jane what I feel to her, but this menace ate it first, so. Talking dog.“

Ivy cackles again: „Oh, you <i>do</i> need help!“

Diego is too busy gaping to agree with her, what a shame.

„Pray tell, did you take her at any romantic outings yet?“

„Like what,“ deadpans Carlos. Doesn’t seem like he appreciates her gracious help at all.

„…Midnight graveyard?“ she offers.

„Oh, good idea,“ says Diego, finally getting his head into the conversation, „It’s gonna be cold, you can offer her your jacket.“

„Oh, how romantic!“ Ivy clasps her hands, „Midnight graveyard, only the two of you… and the dead body you’re getting rid off. Just take a jacket you wouldn’t mind getting dirty or not getting back from her.“

(„The body we’re getting rid of?!“ mouths Carlos silently and, well, obviously. Nothing bonds people like getting rid of a body together, Ivy would know. She absentmindedly catches one of Claudine’s hands and brings it to her lips.)

„Oh, yes,“ nods Diego, „Nothing brings two people close like getting rid of a body together.“

See? Diego agrees!

„Torture also works.“

Ivy looks at him, almost asking „You and who?“ before deciding that she can ask that whenever and to focus on baby Carlos instead. She leans her head down on Claudine’s shoulder as she says: „Or arson. Good for the cold, too.“

Ivy might be just a little too jealous of her jackets and coats.

„Of course you’d say that.“

„Fuck off.“

Ivy just shows him the middle finger; she thinks Carlos is just too shocked to intervene. By how great their suggestions are, of course.

„Also, did you try getting rid of her parent yet?“

There is no underlying motive behind this suggestion of Diego’s, Ivy is so sure. She grins wickedly:

„Have you tried stealing anything for her yet? Jewelry? Designer tiaras? The wand – she seemed pretty hung up on that, didn’t she?“

„Ivy! She’s not– she’s not like that!“

Well, too bad.

„If you don’t like that, murder is always an option.“

„Yeah, what girl could resist when such a handsome young man kills someone for her?“

„…Guys. Guys. I don’t know how to tell you. All of these are illegal,“ says Carlos and, honestly, seems to Ivy he’s just being a kill joy. She slides down, laying her head in Claudine’s lap, and takes the lighter from her to play with it herself.

„…Fight for her hand at a grand tournay the king hosts in her honour?“ offers Diego.

„That’s not real,“ sighs Carlos again. Ivy yawns. He just isn’t putting his heart in it, you see.

„Kill a dragon for her?“

„Illegal.“

„You sure you are not stealing the wand?“ 

„Yes?“

„Dunno, then, wait till she’s comatose and kiss her awake with a true love’s kiss.“

„Arrange for an accident so she falls comatose faster,“ advises Ivy. And Diego keeps telling her she’s not practical, honestly.

„Diego! Ivy!“ cries out Carlos, „I’m not doing any of that!“

Well, too bad.

Ivy closes her eyes; Claudine is running her fingers through her hair. It’s nice.

„Sing her a love ballad then,“ says Diego, as his last ditch attempt, presumably.

„That’s…Not illegal. And not that terrible idea.“

Ivy raises her hand for Diego to high five.

„Still not doing that though.“

Diego high fives her anyway.

„Oh, by the way,“ Ivy decides she should probably tell Carlos about the whole hostage situation now, before she falls asleep, „The Hooks have the king. They want ransom.“

Carlos jumps to his feet:

„The Hooks– What?!“ he shouts in surprise and Ivy grimaces at the volume. Her head hurts. „Ivy, couldn’t you have led with that?!“

„Geez, chill a bit,“ she complains, „It’s just a hostage situation.“

She wants to sleep.

„It’s not like Harriet will have him killed while she can get something in exchange for him,“ adds Diego helpfully.

„Yeah, they could just kill him on accident,“ adds Claudine way less helpfully.

„Shush,“ advises her Ivy. Little lethal accident, who cares? Just adds thrill to life.

„Fucking hell, I can’t believe you guys,“ grumbles Carlos. Well, he’s welcome to go check. She’s sure the Hooks will be all to pleased at him showing up with bare hands. „What do they want?“

„Oh, just the usual,“ she yawns, „Alcohol. Like, obscene amounts of money. A functional remote to the Barrier.“

„Wha– nevermind,“ Carlos shakes his head, „How much money?“

And, you see, Ivy isn’t actually sure. You’ll have to forgive her, with everything else that has been going on.

„Claudine?“ she says instead.

Claudine lists a number and Diego whistles; Carlos just curses again and mutters something about their general insanity, as if that was anything new.

„I’m pretty sure Harry made up the number on the spot, though,“ adds Claudine, shaking her head. Her hair fall into Ivy’s face and she sputters. „Sorry.“

„I– I–,“ Carlos, and thankfully the dog too, are at the loss of words. Neat. „I’m gonna go tell Mal, I suppose.“

He sounds about as enthusiastic about it Claudine does when she offers to take her to the Tremaine salon, that is, like he would rather have his teeth pulled. Mood.

„You do that,“ Ivy waves him away. She is tired and he refuses to take any reasonable advice with that Jane girl anyway. Speaking of which:

„Hey, bring Janey a gift while you’re here. Maybe something from the Mims, or the Faciliers. She’s magic, isn’t she?“

„I–“ He just shakes his head at her before crouching down to the trapdoor, „Lovely seeing, you, Ivy, Diego.“

She blows him a lazy kiss.

„Wait, I’m gonna go with you,“ Diego stands up too, and, well, that doesn‘t seem like her problem.

She wonders if she wants to fall asleep here or try to get to her bed first.

[jadehogwarts]

Lol i wrote a whole fanfiction on wattpad and now im going to show it here

Drunk confession

It was a sunny evening in Londen. Aziraphale cleaning up the bookshop, reshelving some new books he got while Crowley is in a pub drinking his ass off, getting himself completely drunk to forget because why else would he drink somewhere alone? But that's the problem... being alone. He rather be alone somewhere drunk than admit his feelings towards the angel, so he drinks to forget. After drinking to much of whatever he drank. Crowley got a splendid idea. Why not visit your friend's bookshop while drunk? Crowley thought. What can possibly go wrong, so the demon got up and made his way out of the building. Stumbling towards his Bentley he couldn't even walk straight, nor could he remember to sober up. he threw the door open and let himself fall into the car seat sitting like a bag of potatoes. ''okay... I'm not so think as I drunk I am''. he muttered; Crowley was in fact more drunk than he thought. The demon finally hits the accelerator and drove as a maniac trough Londen.

Meanwhile Aziraphale was reading one of the new books he got Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes. The angel was standing in front one of the bookshelf's when he heard a loud bang what made him jump in place dropping his book, he looked at the doors that where slammed open, Crowley standing in the middle of the path stumbling around eventually leaning against a bookshelf. Aziraphale immediately calmed down when he realized who it was, he sighed unbothered, picking up his book and placed it on the shelf. It does not surprise him much anymore when Crowley did things like this from getting drunk to hitting someone with his car. But he was still curious why Crowley was drunk and didn't sober himself up. ''My dear. What happened to you? You look completely utterly drunk. I hope you didn't run anyone over but knowing you, you probably did'' the demon laughed in response ''n-no I didn't, and I'm not drunk at all see?'' Crowley stumbled forwards trying to proof his point, but it only proofed that he was drunk. The angel chuckled at his friend.''Of course, you are not drunk and I'm sure you can walk in a straight line infact I'm going to ask you to walk a straight line from the front of the bookshop to the back of it without falling do you think you can do that?'' Crowley raised his eyebrow in response. ''I can do that'' The demon lets go of the bookshelf falling a bit to the right, but he recovers himself fast. Aziraphale looks questionable at Crowley's attempt to walk. ''ey don't give me that look'' Crowley said *walking* forwards. He was stumbling halfway trough the bookshop where the angel was standing ''I told you I can do it'' but as soon as he said that he fell over his own feet infront of the angel. Aziraphale was at once concerned ''are you all right dear?''. It didn't bother Crowley at all instead he tilted his head up and laughed. ''Seems like a fell for you''.

The angel lets out a relieved sigh since Crowley is drunk Aziraphale didn't pay much attention to the comment he made. ''you have failed dear, but your attempts were highly amusing''. He chuckled along with the demon. Aziraphale helped Crowley up by the arms when he was finally standing a bit the angel sighed again with a worried smile ''What am I to do with you Crowley, you need to take better care of yourself dear I do worry about you''. Crowley didn't hear much from what the angel said to him since his head begins to spin, he placed his hand on his forehead. ''for starters you could throw me away'' he groaned at the headache he got but it slowly went a bit away. Aziraphale clapped his hands together, moved them down.'' I could but I wont you're my friend'' he released his hands, rubbing his nose bridge.'' I might be a bit disappointed in you, though my dear I mean I know you drink to much, but I did not think you would get this bad''. Crowley was getting slightly annoyed by all the questioning, his headache but he also couldn't be serious. ''then you don't know the real me'' he raised his voice at the angel crossing his arms accidently leaning to the right what made him almost fall again but he recovered himself quickly. Crowley isn't in a good state at all what made his friend concerned. Aziraphale looked with pity? Sympathy? At him, the demon couldn't really make sense of it. ''what is going on Crowley? You seem upset about something, usually you don't drink this much, in fact you never get this drunk, you have been acting so strangely lately it feels as if you're trying to prove something''. 

The angel clicked with his fingers trying to make sense of his friend's behaviour really expecting him to answer honestly while he's drunk. ''But I do not know what it is''. The demon smirked in response leaning, stumbling forward ''if I-I was trying to prove something to you would you really think I would be here like this'' as the demon was leaning forwards, he pouted a bit. The angel taken a step back while Crowley swayed his hand in the air. Aziraphale sighed holding his calm. '' I'm trying to understand your behaviour. You seemed so focused before the apocalypse now it seems that all you care about drinking yourself into a stupor'' the angel gave his friend a more concerned look, grabbing his hand what was floating somewhere in the air, putting it down so the demon doesn't hurt himself on accident. '' I am worried that you are trying to avoid something or escape from your emotions. I know you dear something isn't right here''. Aziraphale could really read his friend like a book he knew something was going on, but he could not place it. The demon leaned even more closer what made the angel flustered. He putted his hand in the air again and touched the angel's nose fast, smiling widely not putting it together what he is doing. Aziraphale took a deep breath calming himself down >he's drunk, and he doesn't know what he is doing< the angel thought to himself. While Crowley softly sighed '' Alright angel it doesn't matter because even if you where right what could you possibly do to help its not like you can shut off the feelings, I have for you''. He said annoyingly at the angel stumbling a bit fort and backwards Crowley didn't even realize what he said. Even his drunk self couldn't forget the feelings he has for his *friend*. 

Aziraphale was taken aback from the sudden unexpected confession of the demon, he looked at him in utterly shock while his cheeks start to get a colour. ''Crowley dear. What did you just say? Do you know what you said?'' Crowley looking confused back at him. '' I said what?''. He doesn't remember much from the conversation they had since he got at the bookshop. ''oh'' Aziraphale looked away embarrassed. Maybe he has heard it wrong? Or he didn't mean it since he is drunk. ''I see you don't even remember. The angel nervously chuckled.'' You said you had ehm feelings for me dear. Well at least that's what I thought you said. Crowley was getting more confused and tired of this conversation. What may have been hours he finally remembered he could sober himself up. ''what?'' he smiled sheepishly at his friend. ''I think I should sober myself up''. The angel nodded in response. ''That would probably be a good idea before we continue this conversation. You aren't yourself when you are drunk''. With that Crowley clicked his fingers, his body shaking a bit as he sobers up, leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Aziraphale letting out a nervous cough.'' So? Do you remember now?''. Crowley starts to rub his forehead ''wow''. He said loudly.'' I'm never getting that fucked up drunk again I couldn't even remember to sober myself up!''. he laughed out, then looking at the angel who was waiting for an answer. Crowley got serious again adjusting his sunglasses. ''No angel I don't remember much from earlier.'' He sighed hoping that he didn't say anything to embarrassing. The angel said fast ''You literally said you have feelings for me dear''. 

Crowley is the one now that stood in shock, he wanted nothing more then sink trough the floor or that the other demons took him and just killed him on spot. '' I did?''. He slammed his hand against his head. '' I'm such an idiot'' he muttered under his breath to himself. ''now it is a really good time to throw me out since you didn't want to do it earlier''. He said in a more high-pitched voice then he liked. The angel smiled sympathetically at his flustered friend.'' You're not an idiot Crowley. You did something stupid''. The angel chuckled to himself. ''But that doesn't mean you are an idiot. People do stupid stuff when they are drunk''. Aziraphale hesitated for a moment and took Crowley's hand. ''You are very important to me. I didn't want to throw you away then nor do I now''. He smiled at the demon as his cheeks are getting more of a colour now. '' But if you have something to say to me dear you can say it''. He gave Crowley's hand a little squeeze for reassurance. Meanwhile when the angel took his hand it surprised him making him a more flustered mess, but he didn't pull away he was to stunned to speak progressing all the things he said to him. ''I uhm''. He waited a moment collecting himself ''fine'' he couldn't actually understand why he agreed to talk about his feelings I guess it was something the angel got out of him. Crowley closed his eyes. Aziraphale couldn't even see if the demon closed or opened his eyes, but he could sense that Crowley was nervous. ''I didn't mean to tell you while drunk but I meant the words that was the whole reason I got drunk in the first place'' he really didn't want to see the angel's reaction as his face got more of a colour. Aziraphale was a bit shocked to hear it even though he sensed that Crowley was nervous he couldn't imagine that he loved him to, that he was hearing it correctly when he confessed earlier. He stares at his *friend* for a bit before saying anything. '' You....You actually meant it? You weren't just joking?''.

 Crowley is really starting to regret saying anything at all, that he got himself so drunk to end up in this situation. He slowly opened his eyes again. ''no, I wasn't joking''. Aziraphale starts to feel a little lightheaded. The world seems to spin around him. ''W-Why didn't you tell me sooner? You've been acting so strangely. But I never thought... I didn't know''. Crowley sighed getting more flustered by the second.'' Well maybe I didn't know how to tell you and you weren't picking up the signs either''. The angel was getting more overwhelmed by the situation. He took a deep breath and calmed himself down once again. '' ehm Well in that case I should say something as well shouldn't I?''. His face grew more hotter.'' I eh.... I have feelings for you to''. He chuckled. ''does that mean we are both idiots?''. Crowley's worries went away as he heard the angel confess his feelings. He laughs along with the angel. '' nah you're not. You don't get so stupidly drunk''. Aziraphale sighed relieved. ''No that's right. I don't get that drunk. I know my limits. But dear since you are sober''. He hesitated biting his lip.'' And we have admitted that we have feelings for each other.... What do you...''. The angel couldn't find the right words, but he smiled softly at Crowley. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. That's the benefit of knowing each other for 6000 years. '' Whatever you want us to be angel''. The demon smiled at him. Aziraphale smiling as well. 

He looked at Crowley and took of his glasses placing on the nearest shelf. ''I want to see your beautiful eyes you don't need to hide them from me''. As he said that he placed a hand on his cheek. Crowley only smiled more in response leaning into the touch. ''I... I want to be... I want this to mean something more. I want to be with you Crowley.''. the demon placed his hand gently on his angel's waist. He doesn't pull him closer yet while he wants to he doesn't want to go to fast for the angel. Aziraphale could sense that he hesitates .'' You are not going to fast for me dear''. With that Crowley pulls him closer their body'spressing against each other. Their faces inches away from each other. ''you don't know how long I have waited for this moment''. He said in a breathy whispering voice. Crowley closed the gap between them their lips pressed against the others. Aziraphale's other hand reached towards the other side of the demon's face pulling him closer. They have both waited so long for this, dancing around one another. They are on their own side now. As they explored each others' lips aziraphale pulled away catching his breath. Looking deeply into Crowley eyes. The world didn't around them didn't matter right now. Just the two of them. Aziraphale's hand was still on his cheek he pulled him closer again pressed his forehead against the demons closing his eyes. ''I love you Crowley. He also closed his eyes as he pressed his hand on the angels hand. ''I love you to angel''. After all he didn't regret getting that drunk.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

I'm sick again and feel so exhausted and I need some sick Santino and John taking care of him. I think I asked you something similar like this but, I really love protective/gentle John that takes care of Santino and I can't get enough of it. Sick like having a high temp, sore throat, headaches, overall exhausted. And we all know Santino, he's gonna claim he's okay but John just knows he's not okay. How does John take care of him and what does he do? And how does Santino act? Need this for my sick little soul 💔

Another scenario that will live rent free in my heart and mind from now on!!!

First, as you mentioned, Santino will try to hide it. He'll say that he's fine and will try to keep working.

John will do everything he can to get him away from his work so that he can rest. He'll speak up for him and cancel meetings or do anything else that needs to be done so that Santino can take the day off and just stay in bed. Anyone who asks Santino to do something or go somewhere will be told off and perhaps threatened.

Speaking of which, John will make sure that he goes to bed. If Santino initially refuses (which he will), John will stay next to him while he's working to keep an eye on him until he gives in. He doesn't want Santino to pass out alone. Even though he acts annoyed by the distraction, Santino will be very comforted by that.

Once he is resting, John will give him the full tucked-into-bed, cool-cloth-on-forehead, thermometer-under-tongue treatment. He is going to have so many blankets, so many pillows. Everything around him is going to be extraordinarily soft and warm. He is going to be so incredibly hydrated and well fed.

At this point, Santino's defenses will be too broken down to bother acting irritable anymore. He'll be clingy and ask John to stay next to him.

John will be right there the whole time, and will lay under the covers with him to hold him so that he doesn't feel cold from the chills. John's not afraid of getting sick himself - he probably won't anyway, because he maintains his health so well, but even if he did, that wouldn't matter. What matters is being next to Santino when he's in need.

So that he doesn't get bored, John will read to him from his antique book collection until Santino falls asleep.

I hope this helps - feel better soon! 💙

[step-on-me-khun]

Hello hello..this is my second time requesting I enjoy & love your writings sm!!

I see how often you state that White becomes Clingy or more Forceful when Jealous!! So how about a NSFW scenario of jealous white + 84. “Mine. Only mine.” from 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵

Feel free to leave it if you're uncomfortable with it

Hello and thank you

oh boy white - he's something else. been really down with writers block, hope this is okay

words: 1863 warnings: smut - minors do not interact taglist: @unexceptional-h @rizonacigaravenue @aoi-turtle @minefujikochan

What things would White always give you because of his actions or moods: a headache or fear? Both probably with a good reason. You never had to be jealous of others conversing with him. He was good at hinting at his interest and why. You weren't protective of White. There wasn't any need for that.

Overprotective White wasn't rare. The height difference and attitude of White made you feel more nervous than protected. Not like anyone would dare chat you up again once White got closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. If White's evil glare didn't frighten them, his cold and harsh words would.

God forbid you ever smile when talking to someone else. It didn't have to be a guy. If White saw the two of you acting flirty, it became a problem. White did have trouble telling you he loved you, and sometimes it didn't feel like he did. But sometimes, he did small things to make it obvious, and his overprotectiveness was not something small.

You belonged to White. There was no way White would ever let you be this flirty with someone.

Certain times when White's pride and obsessiveness reached a boiling point, and he would happily threaten anyone. The smug arrogance in him when White bluntly told them you were his and what he would do to them if they ever came near you. It would build in intensity with each person, but he never became uncontrollable.

No one would ever challenge White for you, and you wouldn't let that happen, regardless. Half of the people who harassed you were creeps, people who only saw you for your body or saw you and thought you were weak and alone.

White saw you with someone. The conversation looked as if it was friendly. It pissed him off. You seemed so attentive so often it was displeasing how easily you got on with others. In White's mind, they were an obvious threat. You belonged to White. It was going to stay that way. No one was going to pull you away from him.

His hand clasps around your wrist. The sheer aura of White had caught you off guard. As your anxiety rose, so did your heartbeat. What was White going to do to get rid of his feelings? He had substantial stress on his shoulders.

"W-What did I do wrong?" You ask, more scared than anxious by now.

White remained quiet, his focus on walking you somewhere. He was never this quiet, but when he was, he was unpredictable. Not like White was ever predictable, to begin with. Well, maybe sometimes he was.

"White," you loudly say, hoping to snap him out of it, "answer me."

As soon as you spoke, White forced you into his room. You knew how this was going to go. Did the situation make you feel scared? Not really. The first time he got slightly jealous, it shook you up a bit, but that was because he's imposing and threatening, even in his eyes.

Your heartbeat rises as White pulls you into a room, swiftly trapping you against him and the door. How small and pathetic you must've looked, and all you could do was imagine what White would be thinking. But with the look in his eyes and smirk on his face. Maybe you didn't want to think about that anymore. Keeping you like this, making you beg and beg to stop or continue, was all White wanted. Plus, he wanted the world to know that you were his and that, even if you left, you couldn't escape from him.

"I don't like you when you're like this," you complain meekly. "What do you plan on doing?"

"Have you no trust in me?" White teases.

You stare at his face, giving him an annoyed look. That question didn't require an answer. You only trusted him when your life was in danger and couldn't truly grasp if, at this moment, you were.

"Do you want me to answer that?" You ask.

White slams his hands down on the door beside your head, a little too close.

"I'd appreciate it if you did."

"I don't feel safe enough to answer."

Not like it mattered or not if you answered, White was going to do what he wanted, and you wouldn't be able to do much about it. He would only stop if you screamed at him, and then he would act surprised.

"Not like it matters at all," White says, moving his hands away from your head, roughly gripping your waist, and turning you around. He pulled you away from the door and forced you face down on your bed. It was quick and made you lose all thoughts you had.

You knew it wasn't wise to act like that around others, to act all flirtatious and outgoing, but meeting new people did no damage.

It was easy to question yourself when White treated you like this. You could accept your fate right now or struggle to get out while you could. But you wanted to wait it out and see what White would do. Being loud enough would get his attention if you weren't happy.

"Strip," White commands, "before I become impatient,"

You could hear the familiar rustle of clothing as it came off. There was no need to turn around to confirm it. You could tell White was getting undressed before you took your top off.

Acting quickly, you removed everything, staying in the same position White put you in.

"That's my good girl," White praises before striking your ass with his hand. He moves behind you, one hand snaking around your waist and up to cup your jaw roughly. "I'm going to keep reminding you who you belong to," White whispers before plunging his cock inside you.

As your soft walls engulf White's length, you grip tightly onto the bedsheet. It was a sudden movement, and he warned you, but you could never tell with White - he was unpredictable.

White would never give in to you. He would rather wait for you to give in to him. But even if White rarely had patience, it would wear thin quickly.

He kept you still, keeping you as close to him as possible.

White smirks against your shoulder, amused by every one of your reactions.

There was no 'easy' way to please White, so you did what he wanted, sometimes taking your time and paying for it later.

How White moved inside you was painfully slow. It annoyed you more than it satisfied you.

"Don't expect me ever to be soft with you," White starts, snapping his hips roughly into you, thrusting his dick further inside you.

Fingers grip tightly onto the bedsheet as you squeeze your eyes shut.

His hand falls away from your face and instead finds your hair, wrapping his fingers into a few strands before pushing your face into the bed.

Gasps and moans leave your lips as you try to turn your head a little.

"I'll make everyone know who you belong to," White groans, his remaining hand on the small of your back, "mine. Only mine." White had to make a point and only made it when you're like this.

No one could fuck you as White could. No one would ever be as rough with you, and no one could match White's strength.

White loved the feeling of you around him, but he adored it when you begged and moaned out his name. Having you unable to do a thing against him, being in this position, made White elated.

Would you obey anyone else while in this position, even reluctantly? Maybe, but you being with someone else wasn't an option. The thought of it made White's blood boil.

"W-White," you whimper, your lidded eyes trying to glance up at him.

His thoughts made him a little more feral. You didn't complain, but it was a little overwhelming.

White could control how rough he was with you and held back because of his strength. Whenever you test his patience, you see how harsh he can be with you, and it can be more than a little terrifying.

As his thrusts return to their still rough pace, White's hand releases your hair, and both of them move to your hips, keeping you still as he fucks you.

He held your neck down when you were on your back, preventing you from focusing on his eyes. Sex with White sometimes challenged. Also, it could be physically demanding. Getting out of bed the next day would be torturous. The number of bruises and sores was high. The smug, satisfied look White would give you as you attempted to get out of bed annoyed you.

You reach your hands out to the headboard, wanting to cling to something other than skin, something grounded and still. But the bed wasn't still at all. With every move White made, the bed creaked. Surely someone knew what you were doing, and it embarrassed you. Only the embarrassment you felt would dissipate as White continued.

The pure euphoria surging through your body stopped all thought processes. You were a moaning, whining mess. But as your climax grew, your breathing became shakier.

"F-fu, White," you quietly cry, your mind overwhelmed with the feelings inside you.

"You don't need to be quiet, be as loud as you want to," Whine suggests, his hands gripping your hips as he moves in and out of you. Your soft walls squeeze his length.

You grip the sheet tightly as a wave of bliss rushes over you, vision going blank. Many times were you familiar with this feeling, and every time it made you think. Anyone could make you come like this. Why did it have to be White?

It was White's possessiveness and overprotectiveness. You would challenge both and send him over the edge. The pleasure you both gave each other soon overwhelmed the fear you felt. White wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. Or that's what you wanted to believe. He wasn't vocal about affection for you, but you noticed the small things.

White's hand reaches your hair, pulling your head up sharply. All so you wouldn't hide your face and noise.

As you release, a long, soft moan escapes your lips. White's hand frees your hair. After a few hard thrusts, White comes inside you, waiting for you to catch your breath before pulling out.

"I'm guessing you enjoy tormenting me," White says, breaking the silence.

You lay on your stomach and roll over, "why do you think that?"

"Don't play dumb. I've seen how you converse with strangers and how playful you are with them."

"There's nothing wrong with me being friendly," you smile awkwardly.

White's large hands pull you down the bed by your ankles. "Then try to be less friendly," White suggests, his face right before you.

"I don't think I can be as intimidating as you,"

"Then I can provide a demonstration of how intimidating I can be to the next person who dares to steal you away from me,"

"I-uh-okay then,"

That threat would never be an empty one.

[hoedorokishoto]

Green always was my colour - Part 2

previous part | next part

“So if y=70 then that means…” Takao drawled on, his pencil scratching his head as if he were a flabbergasted cartoon character. You and Midorima had been tutoring your raven-haired friend for the past 2 hours, the patrons of the café coming and going. So far, your friend was stuck on Mathematics. The equations and you quote jumbling together and giving him a headache.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but are you sure you aren’t dyslexic?” Shin-chan asked, putting down the cups of steaming coffee and sitting back down next to you, reaching over and looking at the sums Takao had completed so far.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I just hate maths and my brain is telling me to pack it in and give up.” He answered.

“Could you maybe let your brain know that if you don’t pass this exam Shutoku won’t have a point guard?” You answered in response, sipping your coffee, inhaling the aroma coming from the steam of the cup.

“Maybe I should tell my brain that my friends’ sarcasm isn’t going to help the situation.” He answered back, looking back down at the paper in front of him.

“That isn’t sarcasm, I heard the coach yell that if you don’t make up this grade you can’t play.” You said.

“Yes, I am certain that everyone within a 5-kilometre radius heard.” Shintaro said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

The whole day you hadn’t missed how the tall boys stayed close to you. His hand brushing yours every time you both reached for a pencil or for the food you all shared. His hand brushing your waist as you slid into the booth in front of him. Your cheeks heating up and your face flushing at the small gestures. Something that when you thought about it was something only you noticed. Shintaro probably not giving it a second thought. His kind nature begrudgingly shining through.

“Scorpio was an unlucky sign today. Perhaps we should reconvene tomorrow when his horoscope is looking better, and we can track down his lucky item.” The boy next to you said, as serious as ever. His fingers stroking his chin, no doubt thinking of how he could obtain said lucky item, no matter how ridiculous it was.

“Or he could just stop being such a baby and we could try a bit harder.” You said across the table, flicking Takao’s forehead with your middle finger.

“So what if I’m a baby… Maths’s is so hard.” The boy mumbled, head down in his textbook, his pencil frantically writing and completing sums.

“I think I’m rubbing off on you Y/N. When we first met you never would have treated Takao like this.” Shintaro said quietly, leaning into your side. Even though it was a small touch, you felt the weight of it. His tall stature almost swallowing you, even without trying to.

“I just don’t want him to fail and then listen to him cry because he can’t play basketball. If only Hawke-Eye worked on test too.” You said, sipping your drink again leaning back in the seat. Your leg firmly pressed again Midorima’s.

“I have to go soon, I can leave my notes. Just don’t eat chips and study again please. Last time I had to re-write everything because orange cheese dust was smudged all over the pages.” You said cringing. Remembering the apologetic look your friend gave you as he passed them back.

“I would argue that Cheeto flavouring made Shakespeare way more interesting.” Takao said matter-of-factly.

"What's in a name? That which we call a chip by any other name would taste as sweet." He quoted, deepening his voice, and dramatically putting his hand to his chest.

“Well, at least it helped you remember. What could we try smudging all over these notes?” You asked, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“I will accompany you; I am needed elsewhere as well.” Shintaro said, standing up leaving the booth. His hand on your back as he ushered you towards the door. Takao giving you both a quick wave as he continued to read, brows furrowed in concentration.

*

“Jeez, if you had somewhere else to be you could have left sooner.” You said, trying to walk faster to keep up with the boy beside you. Trying not to trip over your own feet.

“How can someone so smart happen to be so dense?” He asked, stopping in his tracks, both of you a fair few blocks away from the café. Only a block from your house.

“I mean, he will get it. He has never really tested well.”

“Not Takao, you imbecile. You.” He said, pushing you into the near by alley. His body closing in and forcing you against a wall.

“Excuse me?” You asked, your voice coming out more confident than you thought it would. Especially in a situation like this.

“You don’t even realise what you do to me. Every day, every hour, every second. All I seem to think about is you.”

“Do you feel it too? When I touch you, even slightly. It’s like electricity and yet I never want to let you go.” He stated, one of his taped fingers brushing against the side of you face and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand trailing down your neck and side, staying on your waist as he moved in close. His breath fanning your face.

“Maybe I should be more forward. After all, it is Cancer’s lucky day.” He whispered, lowering his head. Our foreheads pressed together, our nose barely touching. Your lips only millimetres apart.

“HEY! What did I tell you filthy teenagers! This isn’t a brothel, move along!” The shop keeper yelled, both of you jumping apart. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

Despite how hot your face felt when you looked at Shintaro Midorima he was the picture stoic, not one hair out of place, his back straight as he picked up both of our bags and continued walking. The only thing that assured you that what happened wasn’t all in your head was the red tips of his ears. A small gracing your face.

“I really need a shower. I hate to kill the mood but if teenagers are being yelled at like that on the daily imagine what they get up to on that wall.” You said, trying to take your bag off him, to no avail. His large hand engulfing yours as you reached for it. Not saying a word as he held your hand, continuing forward.

"Smooth." You giggled up at him.    

[solaneceae]

“Hello, Chase. How are you doing today?”

His skull is trapped between a vice, dull pain throbbing behind his eyeballs. He wants to reach inside and rip them out, or better yet, detach his head from his own body and set it somewhere else for a moment, thank you. “Take a guess,” he huffs annoyedly, rubbing at the tightness gathered between his eyes, in his temples, in his jaw.

Being hungover fucking sucks. Especially when instead of nursing it all comfy at home (he doesn’t have a home, not anymore, nowhere to go, nothing, nobody), you’re stuck in a fucking cell with some dickwad trying to get into your head for some reason.

Said dickwad hums noncommittally. “I’m not psychic, you know. You’re going to have to work with me a little there, Chase.”

“Fuck off,” the prisoner snaps, refusing to make eye contact with the scientist. “You guys fucking kidnapped me. I’m not saying shit to you.”

He remembers the stumble-jolt — that dizzying feeling of being displaced without moving at all, the sound of leaves rustling in the wind shifting to traffic in an instant. Motor oil and fumes replacing running water and fresh dirt in his nostrils. His confusion, drunkenly stumbling through that parking lot until two men dressed in black came to intercept him, saying words Chase couldn’t parse.

He may have punched one of them. It’s a blur, sir. His victory had been short-lived though, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a world of grey and on a scratchy blanket, a little puncture wound in the side of his neck. And of course, with a monster headache and that disgusting taste in his mouth he was starting to grow all-too familiar with.

Was it a bad sign that he wanted a drink right now? Probably.

The scientist sighed. They weren’t wearing any form of identification, no name, no nothing — just that weird symbol of an eye on the side of their lab coat. This had bad news bears written all over it. “Please understand,” they said slowly, like they were talking to a five-year old. It was driving Chase up the wall. “We can’t help you if you don’t help us understand what happened.”

Chase drums his fingertips on his arm, rubbing his feet under the table in hidden nervousness. Normally he’d feel self-conscious about not wearing shoes in front of a stranger, but honestly, he couldn’t be fucked to care — if he was truly stuck here for now, he wasn’t going to make it a bit more comfortable for himself, dammit. “Well. Guess we’re stuck here then, ‘cuz I don’t want to talk to you.”

The scientist purses their lips, but thankfully, they don’t push. They stand wordlessly and walk up to the door, fishing a small remote from their coat pocket and pressing a button. Soon enough, the door slides open and they leave, leaving Chase alone with his thoughts.

***

He doesn’t see anyone for days after that first time, apart from the aid that occasionally drops by with food or to take him to the bathroom. Because of course the room that passes as a cell didn’t have one, which made him think that maybe, just maybe, this place wasn’t supposed to be a cell at all, but that those guys were making do with what they had. Which meant that whatever was happening had caught them off guard somehow, forcing them to improvise in ways they weren’t used to.

Still, Chase was hating every second of his stay. And the humiliation of having someone monitoring him while he cleaned up or took a piss wasn’t even the worst part.

No, the worst was how goddamn bored he was getting. Seriously, there was only so much entertainment you could get out of the fucking tennis ball they’d him as enrichment. Like he was a dog or something. So when finally, finally someone new entered the room one day to sit in front of him with a notepad, Chase was almost happy to see them. Almost.

“Hello, Chase. How’re you doing today?” the unknown man greets him evenly, flashing him a polite smile. Chase gives him a mirthless imitation of one in return.

“Welcome back,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thought you guys forgot about me or somethin’.”

The other has the gall to chuckle at that. “Yes, well. We figured you needed some space.”

Chase squints. “...I don’t need space. I need to get the hell out of here.”

“And we’ll work on getting you out, you have my word,” the scientist tries to pacify him, which makes Chase scoff. “I just need you to answer a few questions, first.” He stops, considering something. “Or, rather,” he corrects himself, “Just one question, really. Doesn’t sound all that bad, does it?”

Chase squints suspiciously, but doesn’t respond. The other doesn’t seem discouraged by his lack of reaction. “Trust me, it’s relevant to whatever… strange phenomena you might have encountered,” he insisted, and now Chase was even more suspicious. “What are you talking about?” he blinks, electing to play dumb for now. “What, like UFOs? I don’t believe in that shit. You people got the wrong guy.”

“No, no,” the scientist waves his hand dismissively, amused. “Nothing like that. Please, just let me ask you something.”

He opened his eyes, all traces of mirth suddenly gone from his features. Chase recoils a little, taken aback by the sudden shift. “Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?” the strange man asks.

Chase blinks. “The fuck kinda question is that?”

“The kind that could get you out of here, depending on what your response is,” the other replies, undeterred. “I’ll ask again.” He leaned forward and repeated, louder this time. “Have you. Ever experienced. A terrible occurrence. That has impacted you significantly?”

Chase wants to laugh. Oh, buddy. D’you have ninety minutes to go over it? “I don’t know. I—” He sighed, rubbing at his face. He didn’t want to talk about his personal life with this— weirdo! Although maybe, maybe he could tell him about… that, but…

Gah. This was stupid. He wasn’t going to believe a word of it. “Something real weird happened,” he tried anyway, because he sure as shit wasn’t going to mention the rest. Maybe they’d let him go if he threw them a bone to chew on. “I was in the woods. And then, I… wasn’t.”

The scientist tilts his head, his pen tapping mindlessly on his notepad. “Could you elaborate on that?” he leans forward, his eyes gleaming with something Chase doesn’t recognize. Curiosity? Expectation? “Did you black out, maybe? You were pretty inebriated at the time.”

Chase bristles. He doesn't like when people point that out. “Oh yeah, sure,” he chirps bitterly, “I was sooooo drunk I somehow walked all the way to that parking lot, without my phone, or my car, and also under a second. Thank you science man, you figured it out. Now let me out of this shithole.”

The other didn’t take the bait, calmly taking notes. It irked Chase to no end, not knowing what he was scribbling down on that stupid thing. “I thought you guys were some super advanced tech company,” he jabbed. “You’d think pen and paper would be too old-fashioned for you.”

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?” the other repeats once again, ignoring Chase’s words entirely. “That’s what I’m asking you. And you’re not being honest with me.”

The vlogger leans back on his chair, because this whole thing is starting to freak him out. “Wait— no, I’m not lying,” he insists, gripping the edge of the table in frustration. “I told you already. I was in the woods, then things got all weird and I was somewhere else, and no time had passed at all. That’s what I remember.” He crossed his arms, pinning the other man down with a stubborn glare. The scientist held his gaze, his expression set in careful neutrality. Then he opens his mouth again.

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?”

“Jesus Christ.”

Chase groans, craning his neck to look up at the ceiling. He’s in a nuthouse. And he’s not even the nutcase. “I already told you. Asking three times ain’t gonna make me change my answer.”

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?”

Chase glares back down, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. “Are you fucking braindead?” he hisses, his voice rising in pitch and volume. He clenches his fists, the joints going stark white. “Just drop it man—”

But then the scientist abruptly jumps to his feet and looms over Chase, slamming his hands on both sides of the metal table. It almost sends the cap-wearing man careening backwards — his chair tilts significantly and he yelps, throwing his body forward to avoid falling. “Holy fuck!”

“Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that has impacted you significantly?!” the man almost snarls at him. “A terrible occurrence, Chase!”

“I—”

“A death in the family!” the scientist enunciates, Chases stares up at him frightfully. “Losing your job! Witnessing a traumatizing event! Did you, Mister Brody?”

“Fuck you!” Chase spits back, his anger overcoming his fear. “I don’t know you, any of you! And I don’t need your fucking help!”

The other man scoffs. He looks frustrated. “Oh, really? Tell that to your little friend stuck in the hospital,” he mocks, inspecting his fingernails. “He could have used our help.”

There’s a heavy silence. Chase’s mind doesn’t make the connection right away, but when it does, it feels like being dunked in freezing water. “...You’re talking about Jack, aren’t you,” he states, not a question, but a fact. His expression slowly hardens as the pieces fall into place. “You knew,” he intones flatly, his voice deceivingly calm.

The scientist shifts uncomfortably, his earlier smugness now gone. Like he knows he just fucked up. “Listen—”

“You guys knew. All this time. And did nothing.”

“Chase, now stay calm,” the other glances at the camera nervously. “Intense displays of emotions can be—”

He never finishes his thought, gasping when a hand grabs at his collar and pulls him forward harshly, the edge of the table digging into his midsection painfully. The scientist winces, staring into previously cloudy eyes that were now sharp with fury. “My best friend’s in a fucking coma,” Chase hisses, almost manic. “That thing’s been stalking me for months, and everyone I went to for help called me a madman. My family—”

His voice breaks, his face twisting in an expression of pain and anguish. “...And you come here, take me in this— fuckin’ Aperture science lookin’ place, and tell me you knew about it the whole time?!”

“Chase, please—”

“No!” the father shrieks, getting up and shoving the scientist back so hard his back collides against the wall. He barely has the time to catch his breath before the prisoner is on him, grabbing him by the throat and pressing him against the rough surface. Chase’s flat cap had fallen, revealing messy, slightly greasy curls that partly fell in front of wide blue eyes rimmed in red and black. “This is on you,” he growls, pulling the other away from the wall only to slam him back against it, drawing a pained yelp from the scientist. “You could have stopped this!” he screams, catching the hand attempting to hit his face before it reaches his target, reaffirming his grip on the other’s throat and cutting off his airways. Blind rage is drowning his world in red, red, red. “You could’ve helped us! But you just watched, as this happened!”

letmeinletmeinmetmeinletmeinetmein

The scientist lets out a wheeze, struggling against Chase’s grip frantically. His leg kicks forward and nails the other man’s knee, making him cry out and let go of his throat. The man in the lab coat takes a greedy, gasping intake of air and stumbles away, reaching into his pocket for his remote. He watches Chase warily as the father holds onto a chair for balance, sending him a look that could only be described as murderous as he presses a button.

Almost immediately, the pneumatic door opens with a quiet hiss, two maked men clad in black stepping into the room. The scientist nods at them and hobbles out of the room, rubbing his throat as the door closes back behind him.

Chase glowers at the two — they’re not the same men that came to pick him up in the parking lot, but in this place, faces and time tend to blur into a same-y, grey mush. One of them steps forward, and Chase immediately grabs a hold of the metal chair and hurls it at the guard with a frustrated yell. The guard barely moved out of the way in time, startled, and the other visibly loses his patience and flash-steps up to Chase, whose face goes from anger to fear in the blink of an eye. He doesn’t get the chance to step back before something is jabbed against his midsection, and his entire world explodes in pain.

His body seizes up as the taser goes off, lightning shooting through his body in millions of white-hot needles. A broken scream wrenches itself from his throat before his legs give out under his own weight, sending him crashing to the cold tiled floor. He gasps, all the muscles in his body spasming out of control. ‘It hurts, it hurts’ is all he can think, it’s all he can feel. Everything smells like ozone, and he can taste blood. I bit my tongue, part of him faintly realizes.

Eventually his brain decides that it’s too much and peaces out, pulling the plug on him. The world tilts on its axis, and then nothing.

***

let me in

let me in

let

me

in

***

“Hey uh, Sasha?”

“Mhh?”

“What’s wrong with the cams?”

Sasha glances away from their game of Tetris, frowning at the screens covering the wall of the monitoring room. It takes them a minute to figure out what the other is talking about, but when they see it, they freeze.

The WTCHR cameras, one by one, seem to be going out.

Every single one of them, which displayed perfectly clear feeds just a minute ago, were gradually switching to nothing but static. “Wow,” they almost fall out of their chair, scrambling for balance as they roll forward, eyes wide. “Did you touch something?”

“Did— fuck no!” Eli protests, his voice going up a few octaves in outrage, “Why d’you always blame me whenever weird shit happens?”

Sasha opens their mouth to drop the most sick burn they can think of, but it never reaches past their lips.

The entire facility goes black, and an eerie silence falls.

***

There’s a body laying down, silent and still. A faint breathing sound and a slow heartbeat the only signs that life still clings to it.

There’s a body seizing up, in a way that doesn’t quite look right. Then it goes limp again, a slow, slow exhale going past its lips, lips that move in half-formed words and aborted sounds.

There’s a body that rises, slowly, clumsily. It moves in the most peculiar way, like something has slipped on an ill-fitting suit and doesn’t know how to move it the way a human would.

There’s a body that walks, unsteadily, through a door that’s not supposed to be open. Red lights and alarms blare, people are running, barking orders.

mine.

The body smiles. It doesn’t look right.

***

Chase wakes up in a strange way — less of a slow drag into consciousness, where his senses gradually come back to him. This time, it’s like the flip of a switch, from asleep to wide awake from one second to the next.

His balance immediately fails him — his legs trip over themselves and send him crashing to the floor, and he doesn’t like how this is quickly becoming a pattern. “Fuck!” he sneers, sitting up against a wall and rubbing the part of his skull he just slammed against the hard floor. He groans and rests his head on his knees, waiting for the throbbing pain to ease off.

Okay. Okay, fuck. He couldn’t think over the sound of that damn alarm. He hoped someone would kill it soon, because it was stabbing through his brain like a metal rod. Christ, his head hurt so much. Like a migraine, but on steroids, with bonus nausea. Was that a side effect of being tased? Chase didn’t know, he’d never been tased before. And it’s dark as all ass in his cell. What was happening?

There’s a weird smell, tangy and potent. The soles of his feet feel sticky, and so do his hands. He doesn’t realize just how bad the situation is until red light lits up his surroundings, and cold horror stabs through his chest like ice.

He’s not in his cell. He’s in some hallway, one he’s unfamiliar with. And there’s pools of something dark on the floor, briefly reflecting the light until it goes out again. Chase’s breathing quickens, panic rising within him. He doesn’t dare move, wide eyes staring out into the darkness, waiting. He doesn’t know what he saw. He has to make sure, make sure it was all a trick, this couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening—

The light comes again. And this time, he can’t mistake the shape of the bloodstains on the floor (footsteps, his, his, his feet are covered in blood and his hands and his face and it’s everywhere), the path weaving through pools of dark red at the end of the hallway and oh my god there was a human hand poking from behind a corner someone was there dead dead dead there was a human corpse right there

Chase wails, breaking down into messy, hiccuppy sobs when the weight of reality crashes down on him. He screams and heaves, convulsing as he loses what little he ate this morning (morning, no sun, evening, no clock, time was broken, time was broken). Everything smells of blood and bile, and he can hear the distant sound of a crowd running towards him.

“I didn’t kill them,” he sobs, rocking back and forth as the footsteps come closer and closer. Many, and heavy, the clicks and groans of guns and heavy protective gear. “I didn’t, I didn’t. Not me, wasn’t me. Not me.”

Laughter echoes in a corner of his mind. He screams, hoping to drown it out, but it doesn’t stop. It never does.

**********

ey @beerecordings you wanted feral chase right-

but yeah anyway i got inspired by the possessed!chase idea and wrote this in four hours and not its 6am and im bout to die byyyyyyye

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 69: Fear

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

You’ve been having a hard time.

It’s disappointing. You were doing so well, and you know you’re safe, and you still want to curl up under a blanket and hide from everyone. Partly from embarrassment, but mostly because you’re terrified every second of every day and it’s not exhilarating or exciting anymore, it’s just scary and exhausting. You’ve been trying not to cry, it just hurts your head and makes your ears ring and makes you dizzy.

“I think I should take you to the hospital.” Barron says. “It’s much harder to magically shield a moving target, but I can do it. I’m afraid that you have something that will get worse the longer you go without treatment, and if there’s anything we can do to help with the headaches besides giving you ibuprofen, I want to know.”

You suck in air through your teeth. “That’s how she found me last time, when I played the escape game! She can track that stuff! Please don’t make me Barron, please, please, I don’t want to go back. It’s not getting worse, it just gets bad when I’m stressed, please, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want-“

“Hey, hey. I’ll never force you to do something you don’t want to do. It was just an idea. I didn’t think about her being able to track you non-magically through those kind of records. What if I took you somewhere without records like that?”

You whimper. You don’t want to get out from under your blanket, let alone leave the cabin.

“I’ll never force you to do anything.” Barron repeats.

You don’t want to see a doctor. They’d just try and give you an MRI and ask where your scars come from and why you have a collar on so tight. But you say “maybe another time.”

“Okay. I’ll keep looking into stuff about traumatic brain injuries to see what else we can do to help.”

“Thank you.”

“Besides the pain, how are you doing?”

“I- I’m so scared all the time.”

“…That sucks.”

You wait for it to continue, but it doesn’t.

“I was doing so well. I was going to be able to start going by my name soon. I felt really good. Scared, but good. I want that back. And I want to be able sleep without having nightmares and read without getting headaches, and- and I want things to go back to normal!”

“What can we do to help?”

“I don’t know! Why would I know? None of this makes sense! I should be okay by now!”

“You sound… frustrated.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry.”

Usually Barron is a bit more helpful than this.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whisper.

“I guess… if you only feel safe hiding under a blanket, stay there for now. I know you’ll challenge yourself when you feel ready. And we’ll help in any way we can.”

“…thank you.” You wouldn’t say you feel safe under the blanket, but it feels safer than being exposed. “Um, have you found out- have you learned anything about what Jane is? How to kill her, or take her powers? I’d feel safer if I felt like there was a way to stop her.”

“I have some guesses. I think maybe she’s a descendant of a whole bunch of things. Demon and vampire and fae, and probably other things too. But what worries me is that, if that’s the case, she doesn’t seem to have the weaknesses of those species. You’ve seen her go into the sun, right? She’d be able to keep any materials that might hurt her out of that house, so we don’t know if she’d be vulnerable to silver or iron or salt. And the teleportation would make it very difficult to stake her through the heart or perform an exorcism.”

You peak out from under the blanket. “She’s touched and eaten salt. And she’s used silverware, though I wouldn’t be able to tell if it was actually made of something else.”

“See, this is what worries me. With everything else, there is a balance. Every species has weaknesses. As a mage I need materials and specific rituals to cast spells, I can’t just cast whenever I want to. She’s getting all these benefits- the healing, the immortality, the teleportation, the strength, her fucking void, which doesn’t match up with any magical creatures I know of- she’s got all that, and no known weaknesses. That’s not how magic works. More power means more weaknesses, or more difficulty accessing that power.”

“That’s- that’s great, actually.” You let the blanket fall away. You’re terrified, but… maybe you can actually stop Jane. It hasn’t felt like a real possibility before. “She doesn’t have trouble accessing her powers, so she must have a lot of weaknesses. We can just, like, try things. Once Kitty and Puppy are safe. Something will work. She has weaknesses. She has lots of weaknesses.”

“…probably. But, if she defies the other ways we understand magic, what if that rule doesn’t apply to her either?”

That can’t be a possibility. She’ll have weaknesses, she has to. “Then she’ll find us somehow and kill you guys and take me back. She’ll never stop doing this unless we stop her. So she has to have weaknesses. Do you have any other ideas about what she could be?”

“I… everything else is pretty weak. I thought maybe her powers exclusively affect the mind. If that was the case, she could create illusions that make it look like she’s teleported or survived something fatal. She could even implant memories.”

“…What do you mean that’s pretty weak? That makes perfect sense. That would explain everything so easily.”

“I guess I just think that if she could manipulate your reality like that, she would seem even more powerful. She would appear to shapeshift into horrifying things, she would make you see and feel injuries you could never survive, she would- I just think she would do more, if that was her skillset. There’s no reason for her to put all that effort into convincing you she can teleport and heal from anything, but not try and convince you of other things. Even if it’s a matter of magical exhaustion, and she could only do a few illusions of that depth, why would she choose those specific powers? It just doesn’t make sense to me. But you know her better than I do. What do you think?”

“She… doesn’t have that kind of restraint. If she could do more, she would, even if it exhausted her. But maybe I only think that because she’s fucked with my head.”

“Exactly, it’s hard to prove or disprove anything related to the idea that she can do mind magic.”

“Well, what would be her weaknesses, if that was the case?”

“There are a lot of different kinds of mind magic, and a lot of different species who can do it. Like, with sirens, you just have to plug your ears, but with others you have to be constantly looking out for flaws in the illusion in order to break out. But most species with mind magic are vulnerable to the same things humans are. If she has been using mind magic to trick you, and you can manage to attack her instead of a version of her created by an illusion, she would be easy to kill.”

“What about taking her powers from her. Is there a way to do that?”

Barron looks… disturbed. “No. There is magic in everything, I don’t even know what taking the magic from something or someone would do. Maybe it would be possible to, like, make it harder for her to access her magic, but I don’t know of any spells that can do that.”

You nod. “So we kill her, then. That’s the only way it will ever stop.” It’s not a moral dilemma, and you don’t feel conflicted. You’ve killed before. At least this time it will save more lives than it ends.

“I believe you. We’ll figure something out.” Barron pauses, looking thoughtful. “Do you feel safer? We can talk more about this, make plans, if it’s helping. I’ve really only planned up to saving Kitty and Puppy.”

Your head actually feels a bit better. Maybe it’s because you’re less focused on it, or because you’re feeling a bit less stressed. Or maybe the pain would’ve lowered on its own either way. You… think you’re up to coming up with plans. “Yeah, that would help. Could you go see if Diya and Greg wanna help plan too?”

Barron nods and leaves the room. You are terrified and tired and you don’t want to deal with any of this anymore, but… it’s nice to have three people on your side. And not in the way Kitty and Puppy were, where they were only as on your side as they could get away with, actually on your side.

You take off your collar, more afraid of Jane still controlling you than of what she’d do if she found out. If there’s a benefit to being this scared, that would be it: everything is equally terrifying, so you know that if you can come out from under the blanket, you can take the collar off. You can, you can, you’re already scared so what differences does it make? Why should you worry about making it worse when it’s already so bad?

You pull the blanket tightly around you. You want to feel safe, you want this to stop, what’s taking Barron so long? You feel tears in your eyes. What the fuck is wrong with you? Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the collar off, she’s going to find out and she’s going to punish you and if you think this is the most scared you can be she’ll prove yoh wrong-

“Hey, hey, we’re here. Just breathe. I, uh, grabbed you some saltines.”

Barron hands you an unopened sleeve of saltines. Diya places a gentle hand on your shoulder and Greg hovers awkwardly.

“Let’s make some plans, does that still sound good? My forcefields prevent teleportation, so we could use that, right?”

“…yeah. Yeah. If we could stop her from teleporting even for a bit, that would be really helpful.” You try to focus on opening the sleeve of saltines, but you’re shaking too much. “Can you- can you hurt her while she’s in a forcefield, though, or would you have to be inside with her?”

Greg gently takes the saltines and opens them for you, before handing them back.

“I would have to be inside with her. Or, someone would. Unless we set a trap first, and then used a forcefield to make sure she couldn’t teleport away from the trap…”

You’ve never noticed before, but Barron’s voice is really calming. You have trouble following everything it says, but… it’s voice is nice. And Diya pats your shoulder or squeezes your hand every once in a while, and that’s nice too. Your eyes slip closed.

Too tired to be this scared, your body tells you. And you’re still afraid, but… the fear is just in your body, just a pounding heart and a twisting stomach and shaking shaking shaking. And you are not your body, at least not right now.

You feel kind of floaty, and you recognize this feeling, you would get it sometimes when Jane would hurt you, and though the thought makes your heart pound faster, you feel fine. Light and floaty and disconnected.

For the first time since you were rescued, you fall asleep with your collar off.

~~

Kitty doesn’t like Jane’s games. The stupid headband thing is one of them. A game about not just being obedient, but compliant. Prioritizing keeping Jane happy over the letter of the law. They know she wants to keep it on without having been told to.

Kitty’s not going to play.

“Master? Did you want me to keep the headband on, like my collar?”

Jane hums thoughtfully. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Will I be punished if I take it off?”

“Well, why don’t you take it off and see?”

Kitty wants to. They want to show Jane that they’re never going to be the compliant pet she wants them to be.

But more than that, they want to not get put in sensory deprivation again. So they don’t touch the headband.

“That’s what I thought. You’re a little scaredy-cat, huh?”

The taunting actually makes obeying easier. She wants them to take it off, to have a reason to punish them. Not that she needs a reason.

Kitty just needs to show they’ll be good, and things will go back to normal. That’s how it always is after they’re punished.

“Yes, Master.”

Jane laughs. “Aw, you’re so sweet today. My good Kitty. This is how it always should’ve been.”

It’ll go back to normal. Just a show of obedience and Jane will take the muzzle off of Puppy and the headband off of Kitty. Things will go back to normal.

Right?

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @fuzzybucketz

[streets-in-paradise]

Best Friends Till the End - Andy Barclay x (Fem) Childhood Friend!Reader - Part 5

Masterlist

Word Count 5K

Warnings: Reader has tokophobic tendencies that get accidentally triggered (Andy comforts her within the accident)

Summary: The search for more cursed dolls on the area continues and everyone of you is doing their part. While you do as much as you can to help from your position of work in the kindergarten class Andy and Kyle get a lead on an freshly opened murder case. Convinced of finding a chance to contribute from a more active role, you persuade them of allowing you in for the investigation but things don’t go exactly as you planned. 

Tags: @losersclubisms​  On the following days Andy became like your secret personal bodyguard following you anywhere. It slowed down the search for Chucky, but he was convinced that you were a target simply because you were important to him and he wouldn't risk losing you. Not like you would complain, because it was giving you a lot of time to spend together. Every single day without delays he would find the way to secretly show up near the preschool center to join you on the ride back home, the dedication he was putting into your protection was something you had never seen before. 

In fact, you did see it before, but it came from no one else but him when you were little children. He wasn’t aware of how deep were the real implications of the confession you made to him on his first night in your house when you got into talking about your love lives. Your therapist, the one you finally seeked as an adult, had warned you about it. However, you never saw the full impact of her point until then. You were too little when you experienced something traumatic together, an event with details you couldn’t discuss in therapy, but that changed your life. The image of love you had at home sucked, so you modeled your general concept of what loving someone meant in the friendship with that boy.  

Andy was your subconscious measure for all sorts of bonding, but that was backfire in your high romantical expectations. The protectiveness, devotion and mutual understanding you had as friends when you were kids was what you were unsuccessfully seeking for all your life; that specifical definition of love that no one else would fit in. The boy who saved your life and gave his away for you settled a long lasting precedent, too big to not have a meaningful effect.

 How were you not supposed to be falling for that man, if your way of loving was shaped with him? Having him back in your life, rediscovering each other and loving every single finding was like coming back home. In a twisted way, you were even starting to feel thankful for the comeback of Chucky just because Andy followed his steps and the hunt was bringing you close. 

Another day of work ended and at the usual hour you were practically jumping from excitement just knowing he would be hiding somewhere waiting for you outside. The fact that you had good news was a plus, but you were thinking of him all day and couldn't wait to see him. Your beloved weirdo was in the backseat of your car, probably planning to surprise you with a practical reminder of common Chucky attack moves. You saw him from outside because, as in his case, that classic move wasn’t a surprise for you and checking backseats was already an incorporated habit. Despite that, you pretended not to have spotted him just to let him have his fun. 

As soon as you sat on the driver’s seat and closed the door Andy jumped over you from the back, extending his arms for a tight hug that was the loveful equivalent of a classic strangulation.  “ Hey, lovely!” He sweetly announced himself. “ Quick reminder: always check backseats. This time it is me, but it could be…”

 “ That ginger headache about to strangle me.” You followed, faking annoyance just because it seemed funny to you. “ Don’t worry, backseats are the least weird of places i had imagined him in. Once I had a dream where I was having a bath and Chucky was coming to kill me, but he emerged from the toilet seat like some sewer haunting little goblin.” 

He wasn’t expecting it, but you made him chuckle very loud. 

 “ Which horror movie had you watched to end up dreaming that ? That’s insane and bizarre, even for Chucky standards of crazy..” 

“ I’m not sure. It’s either for Stephen King’s It or that horror comedy with the killer beavers.” You explained yourself. “ The use of tiny, murderous things was creative.” 

Andy was in the mood for more joking, which was unusually common around you.  

" Aren't you going to tell me about your day?"  

You chuckled to the fake reproach tone he used with you. 

 " Who starts? I have some great things to show and tell." 

 The vagueness of that claim got some almost childlike excitement from him. 

 " Unless you have body pictures of Chucky or some other proof of death, I'm lost in the showing part." 

 He switched places to go beside you for the rest of the ride, but to do so he had to grab the bag previously occupating that space.

 " Check on the transparent folder" You recommended him. " There is something you have to see." 

Andy searched for it, then collected the bunch of loose papers inside very carefully. Those were all draws from the kids of your class, page after page of Chucky being represented in different infantile art styles. At the top and bottom of each page there was a phrase being formed in adult handwriting that could only be yours, because the kids were too little for reading or writing.  

" Lost doll, return to Andy." He read out loud with disconcert. " What the hell is this?"  

" My kids want to do their part, so at drawing time today they asked me to help them make these posters for you. " You sweetly informed him. " It was their idea, I only allowed it to happen and they left me in charge of handing their draws to you. "  

With that explanation you started the car while he kept revisiting the kindergarten art expo in front of him. 

 " You shouldn't encourage them, it's dangerous for everyone. "  

" It's not my fault that you have become popular in my classroom. Not as much as  Spiderman, but you won your own spot." You replicated what you secretly considered some sweet, happy news. " I didn't do anything, kids speak with each other exactly as we used to. Camila and Emily are the presidents of your fans club. Then Tommy, from Susan's class, spoke about how he saw Chucky running around and he supported the story. I had to replace the rules poster without calling anyone out as responsible and the children discussed the vandal, they did the math on their own. " 

" ... And what would that exactly be?" 

 " 'Oscar' is alive and he is sick. He ruined the poster and is hiding from you because he is the toy you were looking for. Now we all have to find him before he can 'infect' other dolls."  

The recap of the children's mildly accurate theorization sounded impressive to him. 

 " I can't believe that story worked. How far do you think it goes?." 

" These kids movilized themselves, they think the Fever of Damballa it's a public health issue. I am only guilty of organizing them for the creation of an awareness network."  

He wasn't that much into the presented idea. 

 " That sounds like massive histeria. What are we going to do when the parents will start hearing them?” 

" Nothing, to any adult this is just a child’s play." You calmly pointed out. "Without mentioning Charles Lee Ray or Chucky my little spies can go unnoticed and the network will grow beyond the límits of my classroom. Soon, Chucky will run out of families to hide among." 

Your friend was still skeptical. 

 " Children ain't fools, we know it, but getting them involved. " 

 " They are already involved, Andy. Any of them can be the next owner of a cursed doll." You replicated, defending your point. " Trusting kids is Chucky's ecosystem: without that, he is screwed. We learned that first hand, he began to lose only when we both stopped trusting him. More partially aware kids means less opportunities for his manipulation without us having to expose them to the more traumatic aspects of the truth. If he is out there, he will eventually run out of options because the children of this town will stand with us." 

  Andy stopped to consider it for a moment.  

" If I am getting it right, you may have found a way to grab Chucky by the balls without doing a single shot." He congratulated you. " I told you so! There were ways for you to fight without doing something reckless that could potentially send me into a cardiac arrest." 

The joke filled you with tenderness because of the deep concern implied. 

 " Oww, Andy! Are you really that worried of me facing what you do all the time?"  

Only staying focused on the driving stopped you from losing all reservations to his answer. 

 " I would die for you, but can't risk having you return the gesture. Call me crazy, call me selfish; I don't mind. I'm going to keep stalking you before allowing Chucky a chance to be alone with you. " 

 " You are my guardian angel. " You sweetly thanked him." No one protects me like you do. " 

 Andy smiled to himself, softened by the sweetness of your words.  

" You are going to need protection if Chucky finds out you are behind the trick making kids stop trusting him... what may be already happening."  

It was your turn to get weirdly excited.  

" Do you have a lead?" 

 Despite the darkness in it, his news had a different meaning in your context.  

" Couple murdered on their home, no signs of forced entry and guess what? They were toy collectors, the article specifies it to state there was no robbery. " 

It was clear that you got some sense of triumph.  

"  it has to be him! He is already struggling, probably angry. " 

 He saved the drawings back in the folder before explaining to you the next move. 

 "I'm going to check on the case with Kyle as soon as I can get you home. The house of the murder is already on the market. Given the timing, we may have a shot."  

You pulled over immediately, determined to discuss the terms of the planning. 

 " 'We’ means all of us, because I'm going with you and now you have to trust me on this." 

Your attitude frustrated him once more.  

" What did I just tell you, (y/n)?"  

" I know a way to know if he was there, even if we don’t find him." You stopped him to explain. " It's not the most precise, but I know how to trust my gut with that method."

With that statement you simply followed way into reaching Kyle for a common discussion of your idea, something that only you could have achieved from him. What you wanted to do was search the entire house using a pendulum, but you didn’t know how you were going to distract the estate agent for enough time to explore each section. Andy freaked out when you said that you were supposed to do that part on your own, which was going to lead into more discussion, but he intended to accept some form of your extravagant offer mainly because he wanted to please you. Knowing how badly you craved for a chance to contribute directly in the hunt, he preferred to let you have that so you wouldn’t try anything worse. 

They had never used any pseudo occultist techniques before, but you were allowed in anyways. After some talking they also shared with you the rest of their previously ideated plan so you could combine everything. You went for it all together with Kyle as driver, her brother in the passenger seat of their car and you in the backseat looking brightfully excited. In that spirit you were filling them with questions about their past Chucky hunts, that only Andy would answer immediately because he was perhaps enjoying himself too much with the attention. He was the voice of the greatest expert on fighting Chucky and you wanted to learn all that minutious knowledge he gathered through years of obsession and that nobody else cared about. 

In the cutest attitude as his listener and apprentice, he could imagine you would be taking notes if you would have had a notebook available and you were making him feel amazing through the sharing of his socially useless but most treasured learnings.  “ He still hates fire, that’s good to know.” He heard you repeating as if you would be taking a mental note and he couldn’t help smiling. “ Do you remember him screaming like crazy when you roasted him in your chimney? I bet he still gets nightmares from that.” 

There was some fun malice mixed within your heartfelt pride, but that derived into one new question.

“ If we set him on fire, would that burn him to death now or that still hasn’t changed? I mean, you had to re-learn the fire trick somehow.” 

Andy felt too ashamed to confess that he discovered that fact through years of practical torture on a severed head. He would never see himself as a hero, but he was starting to enjoy being one in your eyes and he didn’t want to disappoint you. Getting carried away while killing a Chucky like you once saw him do was one thing, but experimenting torture methods on a captive doll was not the same. He couldn’t let you know of that, fearing it would ruin everything between you.

 “ Theoretically speaking, it’s a possibility because now the entire doll body is weak enough to hurt.” 

Kyle knew he was playing the fool: she was the one who found the severed head. 

“ I don’t recommend it if there are witnesses close, it’s too much of a show.” 

“ You are so right, charred Chucky is the ugliest thing ever.” You kindly agreed with her. “ I can’t smell burned plastic without remembering that, but I still can't remember how I didn’t peed all over myself when he started moving. It must be something else I owe to Andy, nothing scares me the same way when he is beside me.” 

That last phrase was delivered in present as an indirect,not fully intentional demonstration of an affection that managed to transcend time. 

“ Well, nothing saddens me the same way when you are beside me.” Your friend followed, taking courage to shift your own words and express himself through those. “ I still don’t know how you do it.”

 “ Doing what? I’m just …me, still a dumb bitch watching too much cartoons. “ You mocked yourself in what sounded like a tease that could have been said by Chucky himself. “ Right now I feel as if I would be on the road in the Mystery Machine.” 

The siblings laughed at your not so casually delivered Scooby Doo reference.

 “  I can tell you haven’t seen Chucky in a long time. All that positivity, you are kind of a sunshine.” Kyle commented afterwards. “ To get what we want we will have to fool some people. Do you think you can lie better than Andy?” 

He gave her an amused reprobatory glance, surprised by the pun. 

“ Sure, deep down inside me there is a wannabe actress girl.” You funnily replicated. “ My kindergarten teachers used to talk with my mom about that, they would say I was a little actress and they weren’t the only ones. Everyone used to recommend her start taking me to auditions.” 

“ You almost started auditioning.” Andy recalled, following your tale. “ I drove my mom crazy because I wanted to follow you. ‘ Mom, mom! (y/n) is gonna be on TV !! Can I go with her? Can I, can I??’ She didn’t have time to take me auditioning, but I was too little and wasn’t getting it.” 

There was a part of the story he didn’t know because you have never confessed it to him as kids.

“ I didn’t want you to be sad about it, that’s why I refused when my mom finally got one for me. I couldn’t let that happen. What if I would have got the role for that commercial and you would have been sad every time you would see it ? We used to watch a lot of TV, that would have been awful. Then mom got pregnant and stopped insisting because she didn’t have time for it anymore.” 

It wasn’t your intention to make him do so, but he still managed to blame himself. 

“ Then Chucky happened and you had to say goodbye to your dreams.” 

“ That wasn’t my dream. It was adult expectations projected into me and myself enjoying the attention as the cute little girl, daughter of an emotionally careless father, I was.” You quickly corrected him. “ I did drama in high school, but had no professional interest in acting anymore. I was aware I was never gonna be Hollywood pretty by adulthood.” 

“ To be fair, you are the prettiest teacher at the preschool center.” Andy dropped without thinking.” … I bet you will do great with the acting part.” 

The inconexed phrase was a clumsy dissimulation tactic because he realized halfway into his saids that he was about to flirt. His fed up but amused sister peeked at your reaction from the rearview mirror: your face was hidden behind a curtain of hair.that you were playing with as if you were fixing yourself up. She only hoped you would be better at acting in front of strangers than what your behavior to your crush was showing. 

In fact, you arrived in the perfect state of bliss to perform your task. For your method to work you needed to be in a positive, peaceful place mentally and your friend indirectly took care of that. Andy casually admitting that he found you pretty, as simply as that was, led you exactly to that precise balance. You were full with nice thoughts, irradiating happiness, and all you needed to do to keep it that way was looking at him. It was unclear if you were going to find a Chucky there, or if you would be merely following his footsteps. In either case, you had to sneak and he wouldn’t want you to do it alone. 

Within the first excuse you found to separate from the group Kyle quickly followed. She was curious about what you were going to attempt, the weird stuff you seemed to know about had caught her attention since her first look at your house. It wasn’t like she would be completely closed to the kind of things she already acknowledged. Doll incarnation aside, Chucky was a ghost and you were trying to track him as such. For what she could understand, the pendulum was like a smoke detector. You explained to her that, despite its divination uses being more common, it could also be helpful to read the energy on an ambient. If he was there or still hiding, reading the pendulum and following the accumulation of strong dark energy would reveal to you the route Chucky took. 

You never stopped insisting that you were merely reading symbols that were taught to you, and you were, but the lack of familiarity with that world made her feel as if she would be in front of a real clairvoyant. She barely spoke in fear of breaking your concentration, although your expression showed you were thinking of less pleasant things than a while before. 

“ If he isn’t here, he was, and it’s very recent. I’m getting darkness in the lectures.” You finally broke the silence to explain. “ A real psychic, someone like Nadia… she would be giving us an exact location. Not just that, she would be able to tell us details of what he did. She saw him through me, in a reading, when I was a kid and he wasn’t physically close. Given this situation? If Chucky blinks four blocks away from here or inside that wardrobe, she would have been able to tell you which eye he is moving.” 

Frustration and nostalgia filled you in equal amounts because you were paying homage to the teachings of your deceased friend, but you weren’t feeling like a worthy student. 

“ It’s good, I bet you are doing great and she must be proud.” Kyle tried to comfort you. “ Is there anything else I can do to help?” 

“ Think of Charles: the man, not the doll.” You asked, fearing she would think you were saying something crazy. “ Close your eyes for me, just for a moment, and picture him in your mind. Long, dark hair. Pale skin, deranged eyes. He is dressed in some cheap suit and the shirt has big stains. Bullet holes, it’s the mark of how he died. This is the one Nadia described to me, who we want to find. Red and rainbow stripes are just the wrapper.” 

She did so, unsure of being actually helpful and you changed the strategy for asking a question to the pendulum. 

“ Is Charles Lee Ray among us now? ” 

In the meantime Andy was stuck in the tedious task of distracting the estate agent, awkwardness intensifying as he was running out of random questions about the house to make. For said reason he chose to trust his instinct and start the undercover Interview seeking for the information he actually cared about. 

" Did the previous owners have any kids?" Was his startpoint, incredibly less nonsensical than his usual topic openers. He thought that, if she could have seen him starting the interview, Kyle would have been proud. " Are there any children's rooms we can check?" 

However, his recently found sutility didn't lead to what he expected.

" There are two extra rooms available for multiple uses." The agent answered. " Space will not be a problem if you are planning to have children." 

The affirmation made things even more awkward. He was in absolute silence, processing what she just told him.

" The location is excellent for a young couple starting a family." The sales pitch continued despite having lost its listener. " This residential neighborhood is ideal to watch your kids grow." 

The only relieving aspect was that she couldn't be talking about Kyle, because she introduced herself in character but still as his sibling. If she assumed someone there was his partner, that had to be you. 

" ... How did you.. ?" 

" The love in that woman's eyes speaks by itself: I knew you must be newlyweds looking for a place of their own. " She replicated, in complicity. " Your wife adores you and she seems to be good friends with the future aunt. " 

It was too late to correct any statements, you would have to play family. Another ironic situation for his personal collection, since that was like reenacting the first game you had played with Chucky. 

The surprise struck you without warnings when, at your comeback, he hugged your waist and pressed his lips against your forehead. 

" Are you alright, love? How is the little one?"

Unsure of how to react, you followed the act guessing it was a code way to speak of Chucky. However, that didn't stop you from feeling weak for the intimate approach that this time he initiated and the peculiar way to address you. 

" Playing hide and seek, totally messing with me. " You sweetly commented. " We got confirmation and I know I shouldn't be, but I am so excited." 

" Congratulations!" The agent interrupted. "Your husband over here can't stop talking about you, so I think he may be even more excited than you."

Rambling about you was the distractive trick he used. A mix of venting about his own feelings with an acting got the lady rooting for both of you. 

Finally realizing what was going on, you tried to do your part playing the role given to you. 

" Really? And what were you saying?" You lovely asked him, actually wanting to get some context because some parts in the agent's phrasing alarmed you. " I wanna know, now you got me curious." 

Andy wouldn't repeat the exact words because he was too embarrassed, but he felt safer to be as tender as he wanted to, hiding in the character he had to play. 

" I told her about how happy I was the day in which we found each other and how blessed you make me feel each and every single day since then." 

You would have kissed him if that wouldn't be taking the acting too far. 

" You are the one I have waited for all my life. '' You sweetly replied, also letting some honesty go with it. " No matter what he will put us through, I will be strong because I have you. "

" First pregnancy, she is very scared.” Kyle commented, faking context so the story would get more credibility. " Would this house be comfortable for a home birth?" 

The question was a disposable one, something Kyle intended to throw in order to close the topic and carry on. The code of your Chucky talking resembled pregnancy talking and in that context you found it bearable, until you realized that you would have to pretend to be a pregnant woman for the rest of the time there. 

Standing it for the sake of the main goal was incredibly difficult because it triggered your phobia, an aspect that you didn't previously discuss with the siblings. Andy could tell something was disturbing you because you grabbed his hand for the rest of the way exactly as you used to when seeking for his protection. At first he thought it was about facing Chucky, perhaps some ptsd induced anxiety because you got too close to make a finding. His deduction changed when he noticed that your grip of his hand would become tighter every time the estate agent would make a pregnancy related comment and at some point you began to shake a bit. 

Seeing you like that worried him, for he preferred to ruin one excuse break and try to find a way to help you calm down. As soon as you were away from the saleswoman, he silently held you in his arms. 

" I'm so sorry, I'm ruining everything. " You apologized while trying to explain yourself. " I should have warned you about that, i just never thought I would..." 

" It's okay, you can explain later. Don't need to force it now. "

You were trying hard not to fall apart, but you needed to make yourself clear. 

“ I’m like this because of what he did to me. You know what it is, you just don’t know the details because I could never tell you.” You confessed, opening up completely. “ .. I can’t put myself in the shoes of a pregnant woman, once I had a panic attack over an irregularity in my period and spent months rejecting any calls for sexual intimacy from who was my boyfriend at the time. I seeked therapy after fucking up that relationship, but I didn’t overcome it. I am aware of the source, I know where it must have started, and everytime my therapist wants to get there I evade it because I really can’t share it with anyone.” 

You were about to hide your face on his shoulder, but he made you stare directly into his eyes. 

“ You can share it with me. Whenever you feel ready for it, I’m here now. Talking things out is not my strength, but I will listen to you.” He sweetly offered before going for a further and more extreme proposition he would call comfort. “ We are going to make him pay. Wherever the fucker is hidding will not be enough: we are going to find him and when that will happen… The things I will do to him! He will beg for death, but I’m going to leave that choice in your hands.” 

The grim and anger driven proposition was however loaded with love. It was because of how much he cared for you and how it hurted him to know of your suffering that he was more willing than ever to cruelty excesses on the doll killing. 

“ Thank you, my friend, but I still feel like I failed on that front too. The readings I get on the pendulum indicate that the place stinks of him, but he is nowhere to be found.” 

“ Then we will make him find us.” Andy replicated, with determination.” If you can’t carry on we are done here, we got some proof that he is still around and that’s enough to keep going.” 

His stance surprised you because it meant he trusted in your contribution. 

“ Do you believe me?”

“ If you trust that thing, so do I. Kyle seems convinced and she is harder to impress than me.”

You took his hand and stared down at it, then glanced back at his face. 

“ Are you willing to drop out this lead just because I got triggered? I can wait in the car, you don’t have to…” 

“ Chucky could be with you.” He interrupted to explain. “ He could be hiding underneath the car waiting for you to be alone because by now he must guess you are a smart girl who checks on backseats.” 

Every possible scenario in which you could be harmed was already contemplated by him, but that time Andy wanted more than to protect you. He needed to make you feel better. 

“ Let me take care of you. After all, that woman assumed all by herself that I’m your husband.” 

You could tell he was mocking the situation, but also felt the sweet irony within. 

“ Well, we never played divorce. We are still married under the laws of children's games.” 

He smiled for you and the sincerity of his lovefulness was as captivating as his sweet looks. 

“ You are the cutest fake husband ever.” You impulsively praised him, pinching his cheeks to later caress each side of his face. “ Sorry that you got a messed up fake wife that can’t give you fake children, this is the humble present Chucky left me for a lifetime.. Although it was very nice of you to assume at first that I had kids of my own just because I love to work with children, the truth is that it will never happen. If you need to play that card for the pretending, you gotta find someone else because I can’t play family like that anymore.” 

Andy caressed your hair, seeking to be as soft with you as the rage he felt allowed him to be. All those years he imagined you were in a better place and, to some extent, you were, but Chucky still managed to leave irreparable damage in your life. He stayed away for so long hoping that you wouldn’t be hurted, but you both were damaged people trying to make the best out of your traumas. 

“ (y/n), you are perfect for me.”