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ikeuverse · 3 days

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MR. FUNNY GUY — l.heeseung

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor WC: 3.8k+

WARNINGS: a few swear words, mentions of alcohol. yeji, sunghoon's sister, is portrayed in this fic as being of age, because there is a part that insinuates that she has been drinking.

NOTES: this came to me as a totally random thought and made me want to write it, without pretension. yes, konon is written as jake's girlfriend just because i wanted something totally different, and i've never seen anyone put her as the girlfriend of any of the boys. idk, nothing special, hehehe. i hope you like it!

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Every group of friends consists of having outstanding personalities or a representative for each thing among them. Heeseung could be the personification of the funny kid.

He had always been in charge of making the best jokes and making everyone laugh ever since he met his friends at the end of high school and the beginning of university. With Heeseung around, it was as if there was no sadness at all.

Even his attitude was that of a big, awkward, funny guy, which gave him even more credit for his antics.

Heeseung was responsible for making Jake stop crying when he got his first low grade in calculus at university. Not even his girlfriend was able to cheer him up, but Heeseung trying to prepare a smoothie and forgot to close the lid of the blender, causing all the fruit and mixtures to fly around the kitchen... Oh, that got a good laugh out of Jake. And a few curses from Jay, for sure.

Heeseung was also responsible for making Sunghoon and Yeji cry with laughter a week after their puppy went missing. She was crying and he said he would help his friends find her, even if their hopes were slim. Heeseung did find her, but that didn't stop him from coming back all wet and with mud all over his shorts because the dog had wandered into a garden and he ran with his life to rescue her. Telling that story out loud made it all worthwhile in the end.

What Heeseung never managed was to get many smiles out of you, Yeji's best friend. It wasn't as if you and she joined Sunghoon's group of friends very often, but when you did, you were the only one who stayed quietly in the corner of the room and didn't crack a smile when he made a joke.

At first, it didn't make much difference to him, not least because you only appeared occasionally and Heeseung only found out about you sometime later. Because you really were so quiet that you seemed almost invisible. But as time went by and Yeji attended more and more of the boys' meetings – even more so after she and you made friends with Jake's girlfriend – Heeseung didn't want to admit it, but he started to feel a bit insulted.

Why weren't you laughing at his jokes? Why didn't you crack a single smile at his antics in front of his friends? You were supposed to hate him, in Heeseung's mind. That was the only explanation for why he never saw a single curved movement of your lips.

"Relax, man" Sunghoon said one night when the two of them were in the kitchen preparing the popcorn for the movie. "Yeji said that Y/n is like that, very closed," he took a larger bowl to pour the contents into, placing it next to another in case he needed a spare. "She took a while to open up to the girls, so maybe it's nothing personal."

So it would seem. Heeseung thought, rolling his eyes as he tried to forget about it and focus on the movie night they all had together.

A whole month passed and he tried not to focus on the thought that you didn't like him, because if that were the case, Heeseung would have gotten there first. He knew everyone there before you did, so if you didn't like him, you might as well not hang out with them anymore and just be friends with Yeji and Jake's girlfriend.

But no, that night what he wanted to happen happened. And without expecting much, without creating any expectations that you would smile at him.

"What are you three doing?" Sunghoon approached and ruffled Yeji's hair, hearing his little sister grumble and curse him for it.

"Trying to make sushi at home" she huffed "But Konon's the only one who can, and she gives the hardest tasks to me and Y/n to do."

"Come on, I think we're doing fine," you said, avoiding looking at Konon because you knew she was laughing at the two of you.

You held up a hot roll you had just rolled, hoping it wouldn't fall out of your hand and spill all the rice. Your eyes met Sunghoon's and then looked at Heeseung, who was standing in the kitchen doorway.

"You're doing a great job," Sunghoon complimented.

"Yeah, long and crooked... Looks like Sunghoon" Heeseung pointed to the hotroll in his hand, and he almost shouted when he heard the sound of your laughter.

It wasn't possible what Heeseung's eyes were seeing at that moment. You. Laughing and then smiling at him... Did that really happen?

Sunghoon abruptly turned to Heeseung as if he was thinking the same thing. Of course, he and the boys were the only ones to hear Heeseung's lament that you never smiled at anything he did. But now it had just happened.

And he wasn't sure if he wanted to see it again, because strangely Heeseung's heart was pumping in a way that he wasn't happy about. Not to mention the fact that, apart from thinking about your smile and the sound of your laugh for weeks, the boy wasn't proud to say that he had dreamt about it.

Was it stupid to say that he had actually dreamed of your smile? Shit, that couldn't be possible.

"Heeseung!" Jake shouted to get his friend's attention, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"Fuck, what a fright" Heeseung wriggled in his chair "What's wrong?"

"I've been calling you for about five minutes, what world were you in?"

"In the world where Y/n keeps smiling at him" Sunghoon hummed.

Fucking bastard... How did Sunghoon have to be so direct like that? All right, his friends knew and couldn't stand to hear Heeseung fantasize about it for weeks, but hearing it out loud from someone else made him feel like a bit of an idiot.

"In my defense, I'm still in shock about this" he tried to say, hearing Jay's laughter from across the room.

"Still? How long has it been... like, three weeks? A month?" he asked, already knowing the answer. If Heeseung were to count, it had been a month and a few days, because every month the girls tried to make a different food. And he distinctly remembers his skills – not unlike Konon's – in rolling the seaweed into sushi.

"Do you like her?" Jake sprawled further back on the sofa, almost throwing his legs over Heeseung's lap. Sunghoon was sitting on the floor staring at the TV while the movie was still playing.

"What? No" he said too quickly, regretting it the moment all the boys' eyes landed on him.

"Dude, you literally went to great lengths just to make her laugh for you" Jay got up from his chair to walk over to Sunghoon and sit down next to him on the floor.

"And when that happened, you didn't stop talking about it the whole time," Jake added.

"I said you could all make me stop talking—"

"We don't want to, it's cute" Sunghoon smiled "Besides I think it happened a few more times after sushi night."

"What?" it was Heeseung's turn to shout, startling Jake who was cursing at him quietly as he curled up on the sofa.

At that moment Heeseung was standing in the living room, pacing back and forth near the TV and watching his friends with mixed feelings. Jake was still recovering from his shock, Sunghoon was pressing his lips together, feeling guilty for saying it just then. While Jay held in his laughter and closed his eyes to wait for the conversation to unfold.

"You're just telling me about this now? Fuck Sunghoon, what do you mean?"

"Dude, I'm sorry" he said, "It's just that you got so excited about it that if I told you she smiled a few more times, you might explode."

"I'm exploding right now" from the coloring of his face, it could be possible.

What do you mean you smiled at Heeseung or something related to him and Sunghoon didn't say anything at all? Now he wanted to know, what was the occasion? Had he done something funny, said something at the wrong time, or made a joke? Or did you genuinely smile just because he was around? What had been the circumstance in which you smiled at him?

"All your gears are turning at the moment and I think it's my fault" Sunghoon got up from the floor, straightening his pants and then sighing, "But she smiled at times when you weren't looking."

"Why?"

"Look, I know your mind because I've lived with you for years, but I have no idea what she was thinking about it" Sunghoon's words had a unique effect on Heeseung. He was even more pensive.

"Yeah, he's right," Jake said.

"You too..." Heeseung then turned to Jay.

"Dude, we talked about this for hours and worked it out together," he defended himself, cringing when the other threatened to approach.

"Hey, calm down!" Sunghoon held him by the shoulders even though he knew his friend would do absolutely nothing to any of the three "Now that you know, you can do something about it."

"Yes, kill the three of you."

"Or talk to her and ask why" Jake shrugged and stood up, giving his best smile in response "Now how about we order something to eat? I'm starving."

"No, no more drinks for you today, young lady" Sunghoon snatched the glass from Yeji's hand, listening to his sister's protests even though she was already a little upset.

"But hey, we're celebrating" she tried to catch it, but to no avail, her older brother was taller and would surely use that to his advantage.

"Celebrating what? The loss of your liver?" Heeseung looked around at the number of glasses on the kitchen counter.

He sighed as he imagined that the owner of that house would have an extremely difficult time cleaning up, but his thoughts were soon cut loose by the sound of laughter that flooded the room. His body went still and his eyes widened at the sight of your standing in front of the kitchen door.

"Hey, Heeseung, you look like you've seen a haunting" you waved at him, smiling briefly and then turning your eyes back to the Park siblings.

"He just heard something" Sunghoon added.

Not knowing what it was, you didn't bother asking him and just walked into the kitchen where the three of them were still standing.

"What's going on?" you asked.

"Yeji's already drunk, so let's go home."

"But she's celebrating," you pouted "It's not every day you get an A in Professor Choi's class."

"The worst professor at that university" Yeji picked up a glass to raise and pretend to toast, then put it back on the counter.

"But you've had enough, so I think you'd better go home" he looked at his sister and then at you "Has Jake taken Konon yet?"

"They just got home, Jay told me as soon as I came into the kitchen" you looked around for something to drink "And you two, what are you doing here?"

Sunghoon had gone after Yeji before he left and Heeseung had been in charge of looking for you, so the two of them could take you home safe and sound. But he didn't want to say that out loud.

"We came after you two," Sunghoon replied.

"Okay, let's go" Yeji whined "I won't be able to finish my drink anyway."

"Not even if we just have one more beer? It'll be quick and—"

"Nope" Heeseung stood in front of you when you threatened to approach the fridge. Looking up thanks to his height, this was the closest he had come to you since you two met.

It might have been the effect of the drink or the moment itself, but he looked glistening and that had – strangely – made your heart flutter.

Blame the drink, blame the drink, please.

"Come on Y/n, these two dullards don't know what fun is" Yeji pushed past Heeseung, ignoring his protests as she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

"That's it man, a few more moves and you two would be kissing in this kitchen" Sunghoon held Heeseung by the shoulders without missing an opportunity to tease him.

He acted on instinct to stand in front of you so that you wouldn't advance into the kitchen, right? He also ignored the distance between the two of you because he miscalculated his steps and Sunghoon was right to say how close you and Heeseung were. But those thoughts had to be pushed aside as quickly as possible.

And that happened when Jay's voice echoed in Heeseung's ears, standing next to his friend's car.

"Can you take Y/n home?" he asked. Heeseung didn't want to show his shock, but the orbs almost popping out in the expression that caught him off guard made Jay laugh right away "I've had a few drinks and I certainly won't be able to drive."

"But—"

"Take her and come back for me" Jay handed Heeseung the keys to his car.

"Why don't you just go along? I can drop you home later."

"Because I'm not finished here yet" Jay's lips protruded forward in a pout, he took a few steps away from Heeseung, nodding and smiling at his friend "And I don't want to witness anything pornographic in my car. Unless I'm the one doing it," he shouted the last part and Heeseung turned sharply in the direction you were with the Park siblings.

He would have given anything at that moment for you to be so drunk that you hadn't heard any of the shit Jay had said so far.

"Where's Jongseong going?" Yeji asked when he saw the boy disappearing among some people in the garden of the house.

"He said he didn't finish whatever it is in there" Heeseung sighed "Come on Y/n, I'll take you home."

None of you missed the mischievous giggle that escaped from Yeji, soon to be joined by Sunghoon. Heeseung knew very well about his friend, but why did his little sister even seem to be complicit?

"Do you know where I live?" you asked so naturally that Heeseung had forgotten how serious you were whenever you were around him.

"No, but you can tell me while we go in Jay's car," he said, and you just agreed and let him guide you to the vehicle. Neither of you cared what the Park siblings said as you and Heeseung walked to Jay's car. He showed himself to be a tremendous gentleman by opening the door for you and checking that everything was okay until you buckled your seatbelt so he could close the door and turn the car around.

"Can we go?" he asked and you nodded, giving Heeseung the coordinates so he could get to your house.

For Heeseung, the silence was necessary while he reorganized his thoughts because, for the first time, he was in a place alone with you. That had never happened since the two of you met.

Now for you, the silence was agonizing because it made you think and observe. To think about how hard you'd tried to get away from that man next to you and to observe how well he drove. His hands firmly gripping the leather of the steering wheel, his long fingers drumming now and then when they stopped at a traffic light or how agile his hand was at holding the gearshift. You also found yourself swallowing when his hand accidentally hit your leg when changing gears. He wasn't doing it on purpose, you knew that, but it was inevitable not to smile quickly.

"We're here" he was the first to break the silence, indicating that he had followed your coordinates very well, and now the two of you were parked inside Jay's car and in front of your apartment complex.

You looked out of the window, a sigh escaping your lips as you looked back at the boy in the car sitting next to you.

"Thanks, Heeseung" you said sincerely, opening a smile when his eyes met yours. Heeseung smiled too, but he didn't look so happy about it. He seemed... Annoyed?

"Can I ask you something, Y/n?" he said just like that, not even bothering to respond to your thanks. But you didn't mind either, after all, your sobriety was starting to kick in, but even so, your alcohol-addled body made you more curious than usual.

"Anything," you said.

It took him a while to formulate that question, pondering whether he should really ask it or just let it go and get on with his life as if it didn't affect him. But it certainly did. Heeseung knew why he had dreamt it, he had to ask.

"Why haven't you ever smiled at me?" might seem like a silly question from the outside, or even sad if the person was as sentimental as Heeseung.

At first, your eyebrows drew together in surprise. But then everything relaxed and you unbuckled your belt to turn around and face the boy.

"What do you mean?"

Heeseung repeated your gesture a few seconds later, unbuckling his belt and turning to face you too.

"I mean, ever since we met you've never smiled at anything I've done," he shrugged, trying to sound firm in his words, not wanting to waver or show how ridiculous it might seem "Surely Yeji has already let it slip that I'm the clown of the group and, I don't know, you're the only person who's never given me a single smile."

"Does that bother you?"

No. He should answer, to appear tougher.

"Yes, a little" Heeseung didn't want to follow his thoughts, he wanted to act on the emotion of the moment "I thought you didn't like me or, at worst, thought I was so dull that you begged the girls to get away every time we met in a group."

He was being so honest with you, opening up so genuinely that you felt a little bad. Maybe your way of acting on everything you'd heard hadn't been nice, you might have been a bit extreme with it.

"I'm sorry" was all you managed to say, without knowing exactly why you were apologizing. Whether it was for your reaction or for never getting to Heeseung and wanting to get to know him.

"Why?" he asked.

You didn't want him to ask, so you wouldn't have to explain yourself, you'd get out of the car and drive away. But Heeseung's sparkling eyes seemed to call out to you every second, guiding you to him as if you belonged there, staring at him as the words came freely out of his mouth.

"We have a group of friends at college and certainly Yeji's brother and his friends are sometimes a topic," your gaze quickly shifted to the window behind Heeseung. Anything being more interesting than his eyes paying attention to you right now "I once commented that... Well..."

"Say, it's okay," he tried to encourage you and you looked back at him, could blame it on the drink if something got out of hand, and would say the next day that you didn't remember anything you were saying. Even though by then your sobriety had reached more than half of your body.

"I told I thought you were very handsome" you nibbled your lower lip and continued, not even giving Heeseung time to process the information "A friend of ours said that you were not only handsome but funny, but that was a danger."

"What? Why?" he tried to shake off the tingling feeling in his chest and his cheeks heating up at the confession. So you thought he was handsome from the start.

"Have you ever heard of the theory of the funny boy being a danger?" you crossed your arms and snorted when Heeseung denied it with a nod "He'll make you laugh so much, you'll laugh. Laugh and laugh until you're naked in his bed."

It was his turn to laugh, hiding his face with his hands and messing up his hair.

"Shut up, don't laugh," you groaned in frustration, uncrossing your arms and trying to push his hand away from your face. The contact was electrifying, even if it only lasted a few seconds. Heeseung uncovered his face and looked at you.

"So Yeji's friend said that about me, and you believed it?" Heeseung wanted to sound confident as he raised an eyebrow, even though, if he had to get out of that car, his legs would be as soft as jelly.

"Well..." a few seconds passed and you sighed, "I avoided contact so I wouldn't have to believe it. I don't know, preserve myself as much as possible since you seem to be well known at the university."

"So you didn't want to smile at me because you thought you'd end up in my bed?" Heeseung leaned forward a little, looking a little defiant. You leaned forward too, your hands resting on your lap.

"You make all the girls smile, what difference would it make if I smiled at you?"

Don't be so honest, Heeseung thought to himself, but it was already done when he launched into it.

"Maybe because your smile is beautiful and when that happened on sushi night, I ended up dreaming for a long time."

"What? Did you dream about my smile?" you almost shouted in the car.

"Too many questions for one night, don't you think?" Heeseung pretended to shake himself, looking for the car keys that he hadn't even taken out of the ignition. Turning on the air conditioning might be a good idea since neither of you made any mention of leaving.

"Too many confessions for one night" you leaned back in your seat.

"I think we're going to need a few more nights for you to tell me more" he also leaned back in his seat, but his head remained turned in your direction.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Would you?" he asked back, a stupid – but extremely beautiful – smile adorning his lips as he said again, "I want to prove that friend of yours completely wrong."

"I'd love that, then" to his surprise, asking you out had been completely light-hearted. He didn't feel like throwing up or running away, or even saying something silly, stuttering... Nothing. Heeseung was just himself as he watched you bend down to him and brush your lips against the corner of his.

From the way Heeseung's head was tilted, giving indications that he wasn't going to move, you purposely kissed him on the corner of the lips, pulling away before he made any risky moves.

"I'm waiting for a message from you so we can make an appointment, mr. funny man."

You winked at him, watching as the tip of Heeseung's tongue traced the exact spot where your lips touched the corner of his. The smile never left him as he watched you open the door, wave, and close it to leave.

A smile had never left Lee Heeseung like that.

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carmyboobear · 2 days

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers.

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully.

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk.

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting.

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them.

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly.

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.��

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.”

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly.

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly.

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot.

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?”

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares.

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly.

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off.

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?”

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?”

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about).

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?”

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't.

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan.

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him.

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them.

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.”

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters.

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.”

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise.

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat.

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool.

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven.

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats.

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today.

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen.

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them.

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him.

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by.

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them.

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way.

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself.

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing.

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear.

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out.

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup.

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once.

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal.

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting.

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid.

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them.

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more.

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on.

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face.

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself).

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders.

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him.

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same.

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush.

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly.

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.”

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face.

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them.

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds.

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him.

“Carmy.” They glare at him.

“What?” He feels himself smiling.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try.

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction.

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it.

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance.

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away.

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow.

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes.

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect.

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault.

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes.

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough.

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head.

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous.

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly.

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly.

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment.��

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes.

“Ready?” He asks quietly.

“I'm ready,” they whisper.

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear.

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark.

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face.

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt.

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable.

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words.

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it.

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time.

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went.

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself.

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do.

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up.

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water.

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously.

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.”

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter.

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him.

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words.

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds.

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned.

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile.

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head.

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses.

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.”

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else.

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes.

Until them.

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along.

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny.

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms.

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore.

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy the bear #the bear fx #my fics #alexithymia fic #GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST.#ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha #anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.

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whatitshouldvebeen · 3 days

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as someone who has self harm scars i was curious. what do you think johnny would think if he saw his s/o (or victim) had some? also i love ur writing so much <3 hope ur staying hydrated and getting enough sleep !!

First tysm for loving my writing!! I have the type of ADHD where I forget to drink anything so unfortunately not but I do get decent sleep ty for asking ❤️ I hope you enjoy the fic and remember, Johnny is not a licensed therapist so please don't follow his suggestions 😂

Scars of the Past

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x reader

Warnings: self-harm, blood, local insane man is certain he can make a girl feel better via knifeplay, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 1,670

Maybe Johnny was stupid for hitting the same place twice after already having picked up a girl, but he had to see if you were still around. You, the girl who checked everyone into the nightclub. The girl he’d been following home for the last week. When you'd taken his hand to stamp it, he honed in on your wrists right away. Scars, and plenty of them.

You were accustomed to getting looks and were used to it by now, so all you did was smile at him and usher him inside. He left a few hours later with a drunk girl on his arm and that was that, or so you thought.

So when the club closed around twelve, you were surprised to see the same tall, dark, and handsome man from last night push himself off the brick wall and approach you.

"Hello, little miss," he drawled as he stopped in front of you while you put on your jacket.

"Oh, hey," you replied, not fully engaged.

"I'm Johnny. What's your name?" he asked.

You glanced up at him and shared your name as you finished fastening your coat.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he remarked.

"Thanks. Listen, I gotta get home now—" you began, but he interrupted by taking your hand, drawing your attention back to him.

"I couldn't help but notice your scars," he said, pushing your sleeve back to inspect the faded white lines. Your gaze shifted to his, noticing a large scar over his eye that you hadn't seen before.

"I doubt you did that to yourself," you responded with a half-smile.

"My ma did it," he said, catching you off guard.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

He brushed it off. "It’s fine. But I'm curious, why'd you do this to yourself?" he asked, genuine interest in his eyes.

You looked into Johnny's dark gaze, surprised to find understanding rather than judgment. "My childhood wasn't the greatest," you explained with a shrug.

"Don't most people hide their scars?" he inquired.

"I don't care what people think. I'm in a better place now," you replied, trying to reassure both him and yourself.

“Are you?” He asked, running his thumb over your scars. You didn't know that he'd seen you through your bathroom window, curled up on the floor of your shower, sobbing. You didn't know he'd seen why you called out three days ago, because you couldn't bear to drag yourself out of bed.

Feeling uncomfortable, you pulled your wrist away. "Yeah, I'm fine," you insisted, attempting to brush past him, but he blocked your path.

You then felt something that made all the color drain from your face. A knife, pressed against your abdomen.

“Nah, I think you'll be coming home with me tonight,” he hissed low in your ear.

–

He drove you to a hotel, and checked into a room, always keeping the knife at the small of your back.

“I'd take you home to mama, but she gets funny,” he said, gesturing to his scar.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked as he opened the hotel room door, pushing you inside before him.

“Tell me your favorite part about cutting,” he demanded, locking the door behind you.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

“You heard me,” he replied, removing his shirt and revealing numerous scars that crisscrossed his pale skin.

"Did you do that to yourself?" you asked, taken aback by the sight.

“I asked you a question first, missy,” he retorted with a cocky grin.

You sighed, sitting down shakily on the bed. “I just like to be reminded that I'm alive, okay? Shit hurts too much,” you mumbled.

“Well, you're certainly alive, darlin’. A whole club of people pretending to be happy, then there's you,” he remarked, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in his eye. “I can see you better ‘n all them. I see through the walls you built. You're not okay, but you could be,” he said, then turned his Bowie knife around, holding the handle towards you.

"What the hell?" you whispered, feeling a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Cut me. Tell me if it makes you feel alive the same way it does when you cut yourself,” he instructed, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

You took the knife, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't move, he just stood and watched you with a gleam in his eye.

You stood, holding the knife so tightly your fingers hurt. You could've slit his throat, or tried to anyway. Why did he kidnap you just to hand you a knife? Did he have a death wish?

Adrenaline made your heart pound in your ears. He wasn't moving… he must be serious. You raised the knife, took a deep breath, then sliced it across his chest.

“Ooh,” he winced, hissing through his teeth, “got me good. Must be all the practice,” he said with a laugh. All you could do was stare as crimson cascaded down his torso.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You asked, the knife still limply held in your hand.

“Same thing as you,” he responded simply, running his hand over his abdomen and bringing his fingers to his lips, staining them red.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked anxiously.

“Why you askin’ me that, you're the one with the knife!” He laughed.

You looked down at the bloodied knife in your hand and realized something. In this instance, you look guilty. If you were to try anything, he could very easily claim you assaulted him.

“Guess you're in a pickle, lil’ missy. Let me help you outta it.” He stepped forward, leaning toward you. “But before I do, tell me how it felt.”

You took a deep breath, watching as the blood continued to seep from his wound he wasn’t bothering to stifle.

“It felt the same as when I cut myself, I guess,” you admitted. “I felt alive.”

“Knew it.” Johnny grinned. “In that case, I have a proposition for ya.”

He set one bloodied knuckle under your chin, angling your eyes to meet his. “There's someone who's stumbled onto my property, you see. Trespassin’. I could use some help teachin’ them a lesson. Might help you feel the same way you did cutting me.”

“I don't know, I'm not a bad person,” you said, your heart still pounding like mad.

“You aren't, but you felt that thrill, didn't ya? The world ain't black and white sweetheart.” He shrugs, moving to the bathroom and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around his abdomen. “Far as I see it, trespassers need to be punished. Come with me. If you do, I'll let you go without a fuss. But I can promise you that you'll be back.”

“And if I don't?” You asked hesitantly.

“Well then, either you escape and I tell the cops you cut me open… or I kill you before you get the chance,” he said matter-of-factly, his demeanor chillingly calm.

You held up the knife, pointing it toward him, a futile attempt to assert some control over the situation.

“If you try it, I know how to survive, darlin’, and it only makes you look more guilty,” he said confidently, approaching you and allowing the knife to dimple his stomach when he reached you.

“Come with me,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours, which was still gripping the knife.

You continued to hold on, but deep down, you knew you stood no chance against this man. So, you let go.

“There ya go,” he said, his face lighting up. “Oh darlin’, we're gonna have so much fun.”

#johnny slaughter #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw game #tcm #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tw self h4rm

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ghouljams · 1 day

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scrolling through tumblr instead of doing my college paperwork (why do they need my immunization records? weirdos. thanks for accepting my application in like three days though) and sinking my teeth into fallout ghost bro (also you wouldn’t happen to have dorm advice would you im desperate)

i love seeing writers i follow taking these boys and pushing them that nice apocalyptic dark.. there’s something that itches my brain about fallout in particular and it’s feeding the worms bc truly anything can go with narrative depending on where you stick em. all that to say loooooooooove ur fallout stuff it’s living in my head forever now and you can’t get rid of me <3333 :3c

Fallout is such a great mix of post-apocalyptic but also there is a society to play with. It's fun writing darker fic with the boys, I like when they're a little fucked up. There are different morals out in the wasteland, you gotta draw your own lines in the sand, decide where you stand and where you aren't going. Ghost's prerogative is survival and revenge, we're just unlucky enough to owe him a debt and get carted along for the ride.

As for Dorm advice... Get flipflops for the showers if you have communal bathrooms. Leave your door open when you can the first week or so, that way people can say hi and you'll know when people are going for food; it's way easier to make friends over lunch/dinner. Don't worry if your roommate isn't your best friend, just try to be cordial with them. My freshman roommate fucking hated me, I ended up spending most of my time in my friend's room since they lived down the hall and my room was just where I slept and studied, it was fine.

Having a roommate agreement sounds silly but is really helpful if you're having any sort of dispute, you can point to the paper you both agreed on and say "look you said you wouldn't bring people back here without giving me a heads up" or whatever. On the other end of that, if your agreement says you'll alternate taking out the trash and your roommate hasn't taken it out, just take it out. It's easier to just do things yourself most of the time. Maybe it's because I'm an oldest child but I tend to just fix things myself when they bother me, trying to get other people to do shit is pointless 75% of the time.

Honestly most people treat the dorms as just a place to sleep and study. It's your home, but it's also not. Which always feels weird to say but you'll get used to it fast. Don't sweat too much about it.

#ghoul speaks

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stayevildarling · 1 day

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I know you've already done something similar, but I'm wondering if you can write a billie, delia, and mina fic with reader who gets attacked and ends up forgetting things like who her gfs are and where she is? Maybe you can add your own ideas to it if ur up to it? Thank you <33

Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader- Closure

A/N: Hi there ❣️ I apologise for the delay with this on. I have been a bit sick and busy. This is really long but I couldn't make it any shorter.

tw: mention of blood, mention of doctors and hospitals, mention of amnesia, cursing, smoking, lots of angst

word count: 11k 😅

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

It had been a normal day at the academy, a busy weekday really, the four of you going on about your days, Cordelia mostly in her office working on academy business, Wilhemina at work and returning a little while ago, you mostly teaching classes and spending your afternoon in the greenhouse, Billie equally at work. At last, you find yourself in the comfort of your girlfriends arms, the four of you snuggled up together by the fireplace, the tv running softly in the background, drawing out the outside noises from the busy streets, some laughter still coming from some of the witches rooms.

As you glance around you, you notice Delia sitting beside you, holding you closely as the two of you are snuggled in a blanket, Wilhemina sitting in her armchair, doing some knitting, her eyes occasionally glancing at you three, the view warming her heart and causing the ever so smallest smile to coat her features. A sudden movement startles you a little, Billie Dean disappearing into the darkness of the night again as she leaves for a smoke, this time unannounced and you can't help but notice how this must have been her third cigarette within twenty minutes, and equally Cordelia watches her leave, Wilhemina's brows furrowing as usually she announced her little smoking breaks.

And as you think about it a little further, you remember how agitated Billie seemed today, unusually quiet at dinner and not sharing any details about her day, like she usually would. And then it kinda dawns on you how fidgety she had been, how she had barely said any words and the revelation causes you to jolt in Cordelia's arms. Her brown eyes meet yours, concern washing over her, before she speaks softly ,,Sweetheart, are you okay?'' she asks, almost a little confused, noticing how tense you suddenly seem. ,,I'm worried about Billie'' you announce, ignoring the voice in your head telling you not to share your concern with them, not wanting to worry them in the process. Cordelia remains silent as she glances at Wilhemina, and as their eyes lock they share a silent understanding. Despite Cordelia being the supreme, you had an odd connection with the three women, somehow always noticing whenever something was wrong.

Cordelia had tried to solve that puzzle many times, whether it was simply your intuition, whether it was simply the love you share for them and how observant you are. However she had questioned how you almost always seem to get it right, always instantly by Wilhemina's side as your senses alerted you of her pains, always by Cordelia's side whenever some danger was looming over the usual safe walls of the academy, sometimes knowing before she did. And you often knew when something was bothering the medium too, when everything was getting a little much for her. And despite never solving the puzzle regarding your senses, she knows that you must be right, also having noticed how agitated, nervous and quiet Billie had been all evening.

And before too long, the medium returns, opting for the other armchair, despite her sitting beside Cordelia moments before, her loud mind causing her to not be focused, to forget already. ,,Billie honey?'' Cordelia tries softly, drawing the medium away from her thoughts. ,,Is everything okay darling?'' she tries, tilting her head a little as three sets of concerned eyes meet the mediums. And she hesitates then, playing with her acrylic nails as a nervous habit, her mouth opening before she physically stops herself, biting the words back. ,,Billie?'' Wilhemina tries now as concern washes over her as well, never having seen Billie like this despite the many battles the medium had thought over the years, including battles with the redhead but always coming out stronger in the end.

,,It's- it's nothing'' Billie tries but her attempt is pathetic as tears already swell in her eyes, Cordelia quick on her feet to kneel beside the medium, taking her shaking hands into her steady ones. ,,Darling, please, what is it?'' the supreme tries, her eyes pleading with her, grounding her and giving her safety to share whatever this was. ,,It's work'' she finally admits, sighing in the process as she lets a tear stream down her cheek. And as you glance at Wilhemina, your features filled with pain, you both know this was serious. Billie never spoke too much about her work, only the nice parts really, including the promo tours, the fun bits of it, never the hauntings, never the ghosts. The same hauntings, ghosts and spirits that often kept her awake at night, causing her to have terrible nightmares, and the three of you often shushing her back to sleep in the end.

,,It's really bad'' she admits, more to herself than either of you and Wilhemina slowly abandons her knitting supplies, you equally abandoning your spot on the comfortable sofa, before walking over to your girlfriend and placing the same blanket that had provided you warmth and safety to her now. ,,Tell us honey'' Cordelia instructs before Billie begins slowly filling you in. Telling you three about her worst gig yet, how despite having seen everything by now she couldn't crack this one, how there was some connection to witches. How she assumes they are satanic witches who are trapped here and haunting a family, how she has been scared to go to work for the past few days, as all her methods failed. You glance at Cordelia when she mentions witches, wondering whether maybe you and the supreme could help out all things considered.

,,It's okay honey, come here'' Cordelia softly offers as soon as Billie finishes, pulling the medium into her arms as your hands softly reach out to hold the mediums, rubbing your thumb in little circles to keep her feeling safe and sound. ,,Billie?'' Wilhemina tries after a while, after the medium had mostly calmed down. ,,Are you gonna make fun of me?'' Billie chuckles through tears, not used to let her guard down like this, especially around all of you at the same time. Wilhemina's features soften then, almost frowning ,,Of course not'' she speaks calmly ,,We are here for you'' she speaks again and it almost causes for you to cry, knowing your Mina had a hard time with these sort of things.

,,Delia?'' you ask, getting her attention as she glances at you ,,I'm sure we can help'' you urge, pleading with her through your eyes. The supreme hesitates, knowing it was probably possible her being the supreme and also having the gift of mediumship that comes with her powers but knowing this was dangerous, after all if Billie was correct and if they truly had some satanic connections. As she glances around the room, she catches a glimpse of Billie who's eyes plead in desperation and so the blonde can't help but agreeing. ,,Can you take me there tomorrow?'' Cordelia asks and is met with a gasp of relief from the medium, who nods her head gratefully. ,,How about we get you to bed for now honey?'' Cordelia tries and Billie simply nods, before the four of you ascend the stairs, getting ready for your individual evening routines and eventually finding each other in bed.

That night you don't manage to get a lot of sleep, worried about your lover who tossed and turned a lot, awoken by a nightmare a couple of times but the three of you were quick by her side, holding her gently through the terrors of the night. And eventually, you give up on the idea of sleep, softly extracting from bed and wrapping a blanket around you before hiding away in the comfort of the greenhouse, glancing through some of Cordelia's books, hoping you could find something that could help out. After countless hours, the sun already rising a while ago, you are lost in several books about satanic rituals, witches and their history, quite taken back as you hadn't really learned about this type of magic before.

Cordelia eventually finds you, watching from the door where she lingers, softly smiling at you sitting crossed leg on the floor, several books around you. ,,Sweetie?'' she startles you, causing you to jolt a little. And then as you watch her approach, looking ethereal as ever in one of her flower dresses, it dawns on you, how long you had been gone, how tired you are from the lack of sleep. ,,What are you up to in here?'' she asks, glancing at the books. ,,Just some reading'' you explain yourself, quickly up on your feet before she presses a soft kiss to your lips, noticing the little bags under your eyes and guessing you- alike her, didn't get too much sleep the night prior.

Taking her hand, you follow her inside the academy again, the witches already having begun their days, going on about their tasks, as you find both Billie and Wilhemina in the kitchen, already dressed for the day while you stand there still in your pyjamas, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. ,,Where are you going?'' you ask a little confused, noticing they are all dressed to go somewhere, Wilhemina's car keys dangling from her hand. ,,We are going with Billie sweetheart'' Cordelia softly announces, her features a little tense as she knows the argument that is about to follow. ,,Wait- give me five minutes'' you announce, getting ready to sprint upstairs but Cordelia stops you. ,,Sweetie'' she tries and by the hint of guilt in her eyes you know she doesn't want you to go.

,,I need you to stay here sweetie'' she tries but you are quick to shake your head. ,,No way'' you announce, pleading with both Billie and Wilhemina, hoping they are easier to convince at times. ,,Darling it's far too dangerous'' Cordelia explains, her features stern. ,,No Delia I don't care, I'm not letting you three go alone'' you protest before Wilhemina steps forward. ,,Little one'' she tries but you are having none of it, matching the redheads usual stubbornness. ,,Why are you going but not me?'' you question and as you glance at Billie's and Cordelia's face it suddenly dawns on you. How they always seemed to coddle you, treat you like a child as if you aren't worthy of this, not worthy of adult things, of dangerous things despite being a witch and knowing how to protect yourself. ,,Please sweetie, I need you to look after the girls and coven'' Cordelia pleads and you have always had a hard time to deny her or them of anything and so slowly you cave in.

,,We will be right back, promise babydoll'' Billie announces, pressing a kiss to your cheeks. ,,Please be safe'' you beg, before Cordelia hugs you from the side, pulling you into her arms and pressing a kiss to your cheeks. ,,Promise little one'' Wilhemina announces with a smile before you watch the three of them leave. You glance around the kitchen, noticing how you must have missed breakfast and so you opt for getting ready for your day, afterwards checking the schedule for today and how neither you nor Cordelia are due for teaching today. And so the only thing you can do is pace around Cordelia's office, hating the fact that you didn't insist on going, how the three of them could be in danger, trusting both the supreme and mediums gift with all of your heart and knowing Wilhemina was tough but after everything you had read last night, thoughts of panic and concern still crash through you, causing you to hyperventilate a little.

Meanwhile, your girlfriends had made it to the house, Wilhemina had promised to stay outside, the only way Cordelia would agree on letting her drive them. And as soon as the supreme steps foot in the house, none of Billie's crew present as they insisted on investigating this without cameras, she can sense the lost and trapped dangerous spirits. ,,Follow me'' Billie tries, leading the supreme up the stairs and to the room where she had set up several of her failed methods. Cordelia's head begins pounding and aching with their screams as they must sense that a witch had entered the house, among her ranks despite a very different form of magic. As the medium enters one of the rooms, Cordelia inspects carefully, her hands hovering nearby the walls, trying to see if there was anything she could do, a spell she could cast or trying to figure out what the spirits may want and need to move on.

What all of them are unaware of though, is that the lost souls had no intention of moving on, of stopping the haunting of the poor family who had recently moved in. All they wanted was revenge, revenge for the way they had tragically been killed, despite that being by neither of the people affected by their hauntings. As Cordelia glances around, she feels a wave of discomfort course through her veins, their screams causing for her head to ache further, Billie equally shaking with their torture. And just like they intended, they managed to get into your girlfriends heads, using their magic to cause the only thing they had meant to do, cause agony and pain upon the innocent.

And as you continue pacing, you suddenly feel like losing your balance, your ears ringing as you hear an agonising scream, and it wasn't just any scream, it was Billie, the medium screaming for help and as your eyes widen, you are quick to force them shut, using your magic abilities to teleport to your girlfriends, panic rippling through your body. Wilhemina's eyes widen as you suddenly appear in front of her, your face filled with fear and panic. ,,Little one?'' she tries ,,Where is she?'' your shaky voice ripples through the air. ,,I heard Billie scream'' you announce, before brushing past her, quickly entering the house. ,,Y/N wait'' Wilhemina tries, confusion washing over her features.

Wilhemina watches as you try to ascend the stairs, taking a few steps before an invisible force takes over, causing you to fly up and down the stairs, as your body floats at first, Wilhemina's heart stopping in her chest. And then it all stops as your scared eyes meet the redheads before you are thrown across the room, the spirits enjoying their little game. A loud bang startles both Cordelia and Billie who are unaware of what had unfolded, their eyes meeting for a second before they run downstairs, finding you in front of Wilhemina on the floor, her expression filled with panic.

,,Y/N'' Billie shouts, seeing your lifeless body on the floor ,,What happened?'' Cordelia asks, glancing at Wilhemina who remains frozen, before she kneels down, taking your head into her hands, her hands quickly staining with blood. ,,She suddenly appeared and said she heard you scream Billie'' Wilhemina explains. Billie's eyes widen in shock ,,I didn't scream...Cordelia it's the spirits, we need to get out of here'' she ushers and the supreme is quick to agree.

The blonde is quick to take you into her arms, before running towards the car, putting you in the back seat before taking a seat and holding you in her arms. Wilhemina rushes to the drivers seat, Billie beside her before she starts the car. The supreme is quick to cast a few spells, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to heal you but she quickly notices that it must be more serious than this, considering her efforts are not working as the blood still poured and the colour fades more and more from your features with each passing moment. ,,We need to get her to a hospital now'' she ushers, Billie hysterically crying in the front, glancing at you and blaming herself for ever bringing her girlfriends there in the first place.

Wilhemina's determination quickly kicks in as she drives faster, focused to get you to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible. ,,Sweetie'' Cordelia tries, brushing her blood stained hands against your cheeks. ,,Y/N'' she ushers but you can't respond as the battle of unconsciousness had won a long time ago. Tears mingle in each of their eyes, Wilhemina glancing in the mirror as panic sets in, seeing you like this. Within minutes, the redhead has you in front of the nearest hospital, having ushered Billie to call ahead and as Cordelia exits the car, still holding your lifeless body in her hands, there are already some doctors and nurses waiting for you, quickly transporting you onto a gurney and rushing you inside.

The wait feels like an eternity, a lifetime of pain and memories, as the three of them pace back and forth in one of the waiting rooms where one of the nurses had escorted them to. Billie sits curled up in one of the chairs, occasionally pacing around as tears blurry her vision. Wilhemina remains standing, despite the sprain on her back, not caring about her back as all she could think about was you, Cordelia pacing back and forth, her thoughts clouded by the possibility of losing you. And as time passes on, you linger on their mind as the doctors work their magic on fixing your injuries. Cordelia keeps thinking over and over when you first joined the academy, how captivated she had been by you, at last a witch who was experienced, who she barely needed to teach anymore. How she often found you in the greenhouse as it had become your sanctuary, how sweet and polite you had been, often asking if you could borrow some of her books, how she had taught you potions a few times as that wasn't your strong suits.

She thinks back of introducing you to the other two, how your eyes sparkled, more with each moment you spent with them. How slowly you captivated all their hearts, despite Billie unsure about another person but quickly falling for her babydoll. The medium can't help feeling guilty, how she should have never told you, thinking back to all the times she had held you in her arms, how lately she hadn't done that enough, how she hadn't spoiled you in so long as her work had left her in a daze. And Wilhemina can't help but blame herself for how she didn't stop you when you walked in, regretting not having held you or kissed you before they had left. Thinking back to all of those nights where neither of you could sleep, either you finding her in the library or her finding you reading in the greenhouse, how the two of you would often read to each other, lulling each other to sleep as she would hold you close, thinking about how you truly opened up her heart.

,,How is she?'' Cordelia's voice rings through the air as she sees one of the doctors appear, startling the other two in the process and causing for the thoughts and memories to stop for a moment. ,,She's stable'' he explains, three gasps of relief echoing through the quiet room. ,,She just needed some stitches, we assume the shock and impact caused her to lose consciousness'' he carries on explaining. ,,We are just waiting for some scans but if it stays like that, she should be observed for a few days and then good to return home'' he announces before excusing himself again to finish his tests. ,,Thank you so much'' Cordelia whispers, tears lingering in their eyes, tears of relief.

,,Thank god'' Wilhemina announces, the other two meeting her brown eyes. ,,I'm so sorry'' Billie suddenly cries, startling the two, before she breaks down. ,,I should have never said anything, taken you there'' she apologises, feeling terrible as the thought of losing you causes her to lose her balance. Cordelia is quick to guide her to a nearby chair, taking her tear stained cheeks into her soft hands ,,Honey.. Honey it's okay, she's fine'' the supreme coos, Wilhemina taking a deep breath, having a hard time seeing any of her girlfriends like this. ,,We will be just fine'' Cordelia reassures, trying to coax the medium out of her state.

It takes another while, before one of the nurses guides them to a room, where you lay, asleep from the effects the drugs had on your body. ,,The scans confirm no damage'' one of the doctors returns, causing them to again gasp in relief. ,,I suggest keeping her for monitoring but she should be just fine'' he announces. Wilhemina steps forward, glancing at both Cordelia and Billie before speaking ,,Can we take her home?'' she asks, more her girlfriends than the doctor really. ,,She hates hospitals and if it's simply a matter of observing her, we can do just that'' she tries, noticing how you aren't attached to any machines anymore, how you are simply asleep, how you simply had stitches and no surgery that required any further actions.

Cordelia glances at Billie before she glances at the doctor and nurse, a little unsure whether that would be the best idea. ,,If that's what you would prefer, we are happy to provide you with some pain medication for her once she wakes, and if you have any concern or questions you can of course call or come back anytime'' he assures and that's all the confirmation your girlfriends need. As Wilhemina settles the details with the nurses, the doctor approaches you, as you finally open your eyes. ,,How are you feeling Miss?'' he questions and you struggle a little at first, with the bright sensation and the lingering pain but you quickly adapt to your surroundings ,,Fine, a little sore'' you admit and he nods in understanding before releasing you.

,,I'm so glad you are awake sweetie'' Cordelia smiles at you softly, having made a plan with Billie and Wilhemina to distract the nurses for a moment while getting your release papers and medications so she could teleport you back into the coven, figuring that may be easier given the circumstances. And with a swift motion she has you back where you belong, inside your shared bedroom, ushering you to bed before sleep washes over you again. While the supreme watches over your sleeping form, she worries whether bringing you home was the best idea, despite the events she knows your injuries don't seem serious and she also knows how hard it was for your other two girlfriends to constantly be around hospitals and doctors, given Wilhemina's trauma from those and the spirits in the hospital, making it hard for the medium and Cordelia equally. While awaiting for the other twos return, she tries calming herself, knowing that the three of them could certainly provide the best care for you.

Both Billie and Mina return within the next while, Cordelia sitting by your side, watching your chest rise and fall softly, not for once leaving your side. And when they both return, their faces soften seeing you asleep safe and sound. ,,How is she?'' Billie asks before walking over to Cordelia, her features still filled with guilt for what had happened. ,,Fine darling, she's just been sleeping'' the supreme reassures, before the three of them just take a moment to breathe after the dramatic turn of events from today. In the end they opt for taking turns, Cordelia the first one to leave for a while in order to look after the coven for a while and check on the girls, giving some of her classes for tomorrow to Zoe, so she could look after you. Next, Wilhemina retreats for a little, opting for a bath and change of clothes after the events from today, Billie the last one to shower and get changed before returning.

It's late afternoon when you awaken next, your eyes slowly opening after hearing some hushed voices, the bright sensation from the white room causing you to squint them shut, the remaining pain in your heard still lingering. After trying again, your throat feels on fire a little as you try glancing around the room. Billie is by your side straight away, smiling at you, almost beaming a little to finally see you awake. ,,How are you feeling?'' she asks, her voice ringing through the air causing your head to pound a little. ,,Wa'' you try to speak but the pain overwhelms you for a second as you force your eyes to close again. ,,May I have some water please?'' you try again, the request coming out quiet and broken.

,,Of course babydoll'' Billie ushers, reaching for the glass of water by your beside that Cordelia had placed there a while ago. The supreme by the other side of the bed, smiling at you, Wilhemina sitting a few steps away from you in an armchair. The sip of water feels like relief as it cools down the burning sensation in your throat. ,,Thank you nurse'' you speak again after handing her back the glass with shaky hands. Billie raises her eyebrow, chuckling to herself as she sets the glass back down. ,,Is there anything else I can get for my favourite patient?'' she chuckles again, Cordelias features soft and a smirk tugging at Wilhemina's lips as they enjoy your little joke.

,,No thank you'' you reply politely before turning to the other woman sitting beside you ,,What's the prognosis then doctor?'' you ask, assuming that the other blonde must be your doctor. ,,Yes Doctor, what's the prognosis?'' Wilhemina mockingly jokes, giving you a little wink, still assuming you are joking. ,,You will be just fine sweetheart'' she states, her hand brushing over your arm and rubbing little circles on it in a comforting matter, causing for your eyebrows to furrow a little. ,,But when can I leave?'' you ask, mistaking your bedroom for a hospital room as everything is still a little blurry and there is a lot of white.

,,What do you mean sweetie?'' Cordelia asks confused, scanning your features before Wilhemina is already up on her feet, noticing how this wasn't a joke, how this had never been a joke, her expression deadly serious as she approaches. ,,Little one, this isn't funny'' she urges, her features stern, causing you to feel even more confused. ,,Do you know where you are?'' Billie asks, her eyes already brimming with tears. You reluctantly look at the blonde woman who you assume to be your doctor before she speaks again ,,Do you know what happened?''. You try to think for a moment, remembering a man talking to you before in a room that looked quite different now that you are thinking about it. ,,Do you know your name?'' the woman asks again, causing one of the other two to scoff at the ridiculousness of her question. And then it kinda dawns on you how you aren't aware of anything really, you didn't know where you are, what happened or who you are, as if your memories had been wiped completely.

,,No'' you whisper, and by your statement you can tell that those people aren't doctors or nurses as their reactions felt way more personal than that. Wilhemina's eyes force close as she takes a shaky breath, her heart beating fast and aching with pain. Billie's face is stained with tears as they keep pouring, her hand still holding onto yours, squeezing it a little tighter as if she wanted to comfort you, despite you feeling the strange urge to comfort her, despite not knowing her. Cordelia's face is filled with panic, realising the extent of the situation. ,,Wilhemina, we need to call the doctor straight away'' she announces, knowing that Billie wasn't going to be able to think straight at the moment. ,,On it'' the woman with red hair announces before she leaves the room, an unfamiliar sound echoing through the room.

,,It's going to be okay sweetheart'' Cordelia whispers, her own tears streaming down her features, shocked and in disbelief this happened but still hoping they can fix this, that maybe they had made a simple mistakes with your scans, that maybe she could even fix it with her magic. The redhead woman quickly returns, telling them how the doctor was on the way and seeing their faces and feeling utter confusion, you can't help but ask. ,,Who- who are you?'' you whisper, glancing between the three of them and your words hit them like a tidal wave, as you watch their reaction. The crying blonde one sobbing, squeezing your hand a little tighter, the other comforting blonde one furrowing her brows as her eyes search yours, the redhead one's heart literally breaking in front of you, despite her features seeming angry.

,,Darling, this is Billie, that's Wilhemina and I'm Cordelia'' she explains, as she glances between them. ,,Your name is Y/N'' she explains, her heart heavy with pain and worry. ,,You had an accident and I assume you are suffering from amnesia but one of the best doctors we know is on the way and we will fix this'' she explains, bringing at least some light into the darkness in your brain as you repeat their and your own name in your mind, wanting to remember that much. However your eyebrows furrow with confusion again when they still didn't answer who they are to you. ,,But who are you?'' you ask again, knowing this was causing them pain but needing to understand. The three women simply look at each other, unsure how to explain this to you especially considering the circumstances and so noticing her girlfriends reactions, Cordelia speaks again, her usually the one taking over in tough situations.

,,We are your partners Y/N, your girlfriends'' she speaks, her eyes almost pleading with you to remember. ,,What all three?'' you blurt out, causing Billie to chuckle a little, despite the pain. ,,Yes sweetie'' Cordelia nods, before a little smirk creeps its way onto your features ,,Well I certainly must have a type huh?'' you question more to yourself than them really, causing Wilhemina to chuckle lowly. ,,Well at least you still have your sense of humour little one'' she chuckles, hoping to bring some light into the situation, Cordelia and Billie smiling warmly, despite their hearts heavy with pain and faces filled with concern.

The next while is certainly uncomfortable, the four of you sitting in silence before Wilhemina guides the doctor into the room, thanking her for coming over so quickly. Unbeknownst to you, the woman was Billie's close friends, one of her celebrity acquaintances, who eventually also became Wilhemina's doctor. She was familiar with the academy and witchcraft and so it seemed more fitting. Cordelia had showed her the scans and reports from the hospital before, doing it in a private matter because she didn't want to overwhelm you. You had slipped into a little daze of sleep, before Billie wakes you gently, as she hadn't left your side for one minute. ,,Darling, this is the doctor we mentioned'' she speaks and you watch as a brunette woman looks at you, a little torch in her hand. ,,Hi Y/N, do you mind if I take a quick look?'' she speaks and you simply nod, still feeling sleepy and exhausted. The torch blinds you a little and causes for your eyes to close ,,Sweetie I need you to keep your eyes open'' Cordelia ushers softly and you comply, letting the doctor finish her tests.

,,Do you feel any discomfort, pain or nausea?'' she asks and you glance between the four of them before nodding reluctantly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with this as everything hurt and everything feels empty and confusing. ,,My head hurts'' you admit, causing for Cordelia to frown, Wilhemina's features stern as she observes, the worry almost drowning her in its intensity. And for some reason, your eyes search for the redhead who is standing opposite the bed, further away than all the others and for some reason you want to be closer to her as she seemed safe. You watch as all women leave towards the door, the doctor telling them how this wasn't uncommon given the circumstances, how she ushers something to Cordelia and wanting them to keep her in the loop, wanting to examine you closely over the next few weeks, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

By the time the three of them return, you are curled up in a ball, facing away from them, as tears prickle at your tired eyes, the confusion and pain causing you to feel a little overwhelmed, not understanding what was going on. You could feel all of these feelings, these things that you didn't understand. Cordelia's frame blurs into your vision as she kneels beside you, Billie and Wilhemina standing behind her. ,,Are you okay sweetheart?'' she asks, noticing your scared and sad expression. You don't say anything, simply blinking and letting the tears run before her hand wipes them gently, causing you to cringe at her touch, feeling overwhelmed by their presences as of right now. Cordelia senses it, her heart heavy with pain before she retracts her hand, sighing in the process ,,Would you like some space to rest?'' she speaks carefully, choosing her words in a certain way, to not overwhelm you further.

,,Yes please'' you speak quietly, causing for the blonde to nod and force a comforting smile before they leave, leaving you behind to sob into your pillow for a while before sleep washes over your tired body. They opt for Wilhemina's office in the end, as it was located right next to the bedroom, wanting to at least be a little close to you incase you needed them. Cordelia sighs, rubbing her temples in frustration before taking a seat on a nearby sofa, Billie standing nearby her arms crossed in front of her chest, her thoughts racing. Slowly, Wilhemina takes a seat in her armchair near her two girlfriends, her movements slow, matching both the physical and emotional pain the last few hours had left on her. ,,What are we going to do?'' Billie sighs, unsure what to do with herself as she begins pacing a little. ,,I think we need to be patient and give her some time'' Cordelia speaks, the doubt written on her features. ,,Like the doctor said, this can happen'' she repeats her earlier words.

,,Have either of you thought about what to do if she doesn't remember?'' Wilhemina questions, her voice and features stern as two blonde heads snap towards her. ,,She will'' Cordelia almost spits, the thought too painful for her to think it through. ,,But what if she never remembers us?'' Billie speaks, her eyes brimming with tears again. ,,We will make her remember honey, it will be alright'' Cordelia tries, walking over to Billie to wrap her in a comforting hug before glancing at Wilhemina, almost scolding her for freaking Billie out like this, despite knowing her concerns are valid and the supreme would be lying as the thought had also crossed her mind but she had pushed it down for now. ,,What are we going to do now?'' Billie asks, the other two knowing what she means as it was clear you needed some space.

,,We will go and have dinner with the girls, then we can check on her and see what to do'' Cordelia speaks softly and Billie nods, feeling safe at Cordelia's words. It takes a bit of convincing for Wilhemina to join them as she didn't feel like joining the girls, wanting to be close to you, look after you but knowing it may only make things worse as of right now. And dinner isn't exactly pleasant as your absence is noticed, Zoe and the older girls had asked and Cordelia wasn't really sure whether to fill them in, opting for now it was too soon and simply explaining that you had fallen ill and would need some rest for a few days. As Billie and Cordelia take care of the dishes and confiding in Zoe with what had happened as they needed to rely on her for a while at looking after the academy and girls, Wilhemina had opted to take some dinner and tea up to your room, carrying it in on a little tray.

As she enters the room quietly, assuming you are still asleep and struggling with both the tray and her cane a little, she is surprised to find you awake and looking at her. She smiles softly before placing the tray on the little table beside you, before clearing her throat. ,,How is the pain?'' she asks almost quietly, not wanting to cause more aching for you. ,,It's a little better'' you tell her, before she hands you some water and tablets. ,,These are painkillers from the doctor'' she explains as she watches you glance at them reluctantly but without thinking about it, you take them and she notices how you don't struggle in the slightest, her little one usually hating tablets and to take any form of medication. ,,You should eat something'' she ushers, softly handing you the tray with her shaky hands. ,,Thank you'' you whisper and smile softly at her, feeling a little less overwhelmed after some sleep.

She glances at you for a moment, before turning on her heels, thinking you still wanted some space. ,,Wilhemina?'' you ask, remembering her name from when Cordelia had told you before. ,,Yes little one?'' she asks, quickly internally scolding herself for the pet name. ,,Would you-'' you begin but stop yourself, unsure whether you could ask this of the woman. ,,What is it?'' she asks softly, taking some steps towards you again. ,,Would you mind staying with me?'' you almost whisper, before her eyes glisten a little ,,Of course Y/N'' she smiles softly, extracting a chair and sitting beside you. The room fills with silence for a while, as you eat some of the food that she had brought, also appreciating the warm tea as you felt a little cold. ,,Can you maybe tell me something?'' you ask almost reluctantly again and her head tilts a little at your request. ,,Of course, what would you like to know?'' she asks, unsure what exactly you mean.

,,Just anything?'' you ask and she feels bad then, not able to imagine what it must be like to forget, to not know anything. And so gently she fills you in about as much details as she knows about you, your age, where you are from, your favourite colour, your friends, the things you are passionate about. And you can't help but notice with how much softness and adoration she tells you those things, how kind you are, how nothing is ever too much for you as you loved helping out. She briefly mentioned you teaching at the academy and by now you assume that the place you are currently in must be said academy. ,,What academy is this?'' you ask a little confused after a while and for the first time, she halts, not instantly answering your question. ,,I- I think it's better if Cordelia explains that to you little one'' she tries and you simply leave it as that.

,,What time is it?'' you ask after a while, noticing how the room was much darker now, the sun having set a while ago. ,,It's 9pm darling'' she explains after glancing at her watch. ,,And so this is your bedroom?'' you ask after glancing around the unfamiliar room, seeing four dressers, what you assume to be on ensuite bathroom, and a large makeup table in the corner. ,,It's ours'' she explains a little hesitantly. And she can tell that this must be strange and uncomfortable ,,Do you feel like me showing you around a little?'' she asks, hoping that maybe the memories of this place would help you remember a little. ,,Yes please'' you reply, handing her back the tray she had given you, before you stand up, feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden movement but much better as the tablets are already showing their effects.

And so she takes you around the academy, first taking you to your old bedroom, now mostly empty explaining how you had lived there first before moving in with them, showing you both her and Cordelia's office, before taking you downstairs, leading you to the dining and living room, hoping that might spark something, considering the many nights you had spent together there. But by your reaction she can tell that nothing seems to ring a bell. And so at last she leads you to the kitchen where the other two blondes are still sitting and talking. As they notice you up on your feet they smile softly ,,Hey there'' Cordelia greets you warmly, taking in your features. ,,I have been showing her around'' Wilhemina announces to the other two ,,Perhaps you could show her the greenhouse Cordelia and tell her a little more about this academy'' Wilhemina ushers, her eyes speaking silently, Cordelia of course understanding what the redhead was implying. ,,Of course'' she smiles softly, before standing up. ,,Would you like to follow me outside?'' she asks you, and you nod, leaving the other two behind.

Shivering a little you take a look at the gardens, feeling the cold night air prickle at your skin a little. ,,This is the greenhouse'' she explains as the two of you enter. You glance around a little taken back and she recognises that face, sending her into a painful deja vu of when you first joined the academy and how your eyes sparkled that same way. ,,Would you like to take a seat?'' she offers, and you nod before the two of you sit in the quiet greenhouse. You glance at the blonde, for the first time really taking in her features and noticing how utterly beautiful she truly was. ,,About this academy'' she begins and you notice that same look of hesitation on her face that Wilhemina showed before. ,,This is Miss Robichaux's Academy'' she starts ,,For witches'' she carries on, startling you as your eyes widen. ,,This is a coven darling, the girls here are witches'' Cordelia explains gently, knowing this must be a lot to take in. She senses your disbelief and shock, before she places a hand on your shoulder.

,,I know this is a lot to take in'' she emphatically remarks before you look at her ,,Is this a joke?'' you ask, still in disbelief, despite having noticed some of the symbols on the tables as you entered and the countless books on potions and spells. ,,No darling'' she speaks softly again before her eyes lock with yours, trying to think of a way to prove to you that she was being genuine. ,,May I show you?'' she asks before you nod reluctantly. She walks over to one of the tables, extracting some rose petals from an earlier class, before closing her eyes and a beautiful white rose appears in front of your eyes. You gasp, your eyes flickering from the rose in her hand to her brown eyes. And then she watches the panic form across your features, as it all becomes a little overwhelming again, your head suddenly pounding again, ears ringing a little and chest rising and falling fast.

,,Okay darling, how about we get you back upstairs?'' she offers, noticing your trembling hands, before taking one into her hand and softly guiding you back inside. Once inside you find Wilhemina and Billie in the kitchen, their faces etched with concern as they notice your trembling state, already assuming the news would be a lot to take in. ,,How about we get you upstairs to bed?'' Cordelia offers but you pause, glancing between the three of them. ,,I- I don't'' you stumble over your words, feeling that same overwhelming feeling of emptiness again despite them having filled you in on more details. But it all feels too much, the thought of having to stay with them overwhelming despite the connection you feel towards them and knowing by now that they are your partners. ,,Y/N are you okay?' Billie asks, watching you seemingly struggle. ,,Can I stay in my old room?'' you blurt out, glancing at Wilhemina ,,The one you showed me?'' you ask.

Silence falls over the kitchen, Wilhemina and Billie glancing at Cordelia who stands frozen beside you, shocked at your request and utterly sad as you had always loved being close to them, always afraid of sleeping on your own. ,,I- the doctor recommended you to be under observation darling'' Billie tries, hating the idea of you being alone with all of this. ,,If that's what you want then of course, but promise to find us if you need anything?'' Cordelia offers, the other two shocked by her statement. ,,Thank you'' you breathe out almost in relief before looking at them one more time and leaving upstairs, struggling at first but eventually finding the room that Wilhemina had showed you before. ,,Why would you do that?'' Billie asks, her voice trembling before the supreme sighs ,,We need to give her time'' she announces before sighing. And so the three of them retract to their bedroom, without you, Cordelia checking on you once more and leaving some more water, pyjamas and painkiller with you, asking whether you needed anything but you politely declining. And so as the night slowly begins, neither of them manage to find much sleep, the bed feeling lonely and strange without you, feeling the urge to hold you close, the events replaying on their minds over and over again.

The next couple of days carry on like they had, you mostly spent your time on your own, the day after the accident, Cordelia had taken you to an appointment with the doctors, getting some more scans and checks done and she had worried since as you really didn't talk all that much with them, withdrawing almost. And you had felt bad ever since, the three of them really trying and showing you so much kindness. Cordelia had tried to convince you to sit in some of her classes, Wilhemina often checking on you throughout the day and Billie having left some photo albums with you. But you didn't feel ready, the headaches still returning as well as dreams at night, making it a little hard at times. A lot of questions had circled your mind and so the only thing you can do is toss and turn in bed for a while before eventually growing sick of it and sitting by the little fireplace in your room. As you glance around, you find a desk, your curiosity getting ahold of you before you open some draws, finding some books and when you read the title, the same question repeats in your mind, the question that lingered since Cordelia had filled you in on what this academy truly was.

You knew as much that this was your old room, your eyebrows furrow trying to think about whether they had mentioned anyone else staying there since. As you open the books, you find several pages on spell casting and potions and see several handwritten notes. Your eyes search the drawers until you find a pen, before it flies over a page, wanting to check whether this was your handwriting and whether you may also be a witch. The realisation ripples through you, your head hurting in that same way again as the handwriting is identical and then it dawns on you that you must also be a witch. The whole thing makes you feel sick, the lingering emptiness and confusion drowning you. You debate sleeping again but you knew it wouldn't come and so you opt for some water, the headache pounding into your skull. As you walk downstairs, you pass some witches and notice how they all smile at you, assuming they must have been your friends before. You take in the peace and quiet, hoping that you wouldn't find anyone downstairs, not necessarily in the mood after the realisation you had made.

Almost in a hurry, you rush to the kitchen, before you notice the three women that seem so familiar yet so unfamiliar at the same time. And you opt for leaving again before they notice your presence ,,Hi sweetheart'' Cordelia greets you with a warm smile, the other twos features equally filled with pain and longing. ,,Are you hungry honey? we kept you some dinner?'' Billie tries and you close your eyes for a moment to compose yourself. ,,No thank you'' you speak before explaining ,,I just came to get some water'' you explain, before Cordelia is quick to fetch a glass for you, before walking over and handing it to you. ,,Here you go love'' she speaks with so much love that it almost makes you feel bad for how angry and upset you are feeling at the moment. ,,Are you feeling okay? you look a little pale'' Billie Dean states, her features etched with concern.

You sigh then, trying hard to keep your emotions at bay before taking a sip from the water. ,,Sweeth-'' one of them speaks again and it bursts out of you, all the frustration, emptiness and their attempts of making you remember of making this better. ,,Can you stop'' you sigh, rubbing your head in frustration as it continues pounding. ,,Stop it with the constant petnames'' you sigh stomping your foot, their faces etched with worry and guilt. ,,And when were you going to tell me I'm a witch?'' you carry on, Wilhemina swallowing hard before glancing at the other two blondes. ,,How do you know that bab- Y/N?'' Billie asks, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. ,,I found a book in my room'' you announce, your voice matching your frustration. ,,I meant to tell you but I didn't want to overwhelm you'' Cordelia apologetically announces, her eyes filled with sadness. The room fills with silence before they notice a shift in your demeanour, your face considerably more pale, hands shaking as you hold onto the glass of water for support. ,,Are you okay Y/N?'' Cordelia tries again before taking a step towards you. ,,Please just leave me alone'' you almost shout in frustration as tears linger in your eyes ,,Y/N'' Wilhemina scolds, her cane banging on the floor once, causing for the pounding of your head to get even worse.

Without a word, you turn around, trying to ignore the stars forming in your vision and how much pain you are in. But then it all starts spinning a little too fast and you stop yourself, holding onto a nearby wall, Billie and Wilhemina standing frozen in their spot after your outburst before Cordelia rushes towards you, holding you up as your legs feel like giving in a little. ,,I don't - I'm sorry'' you whisper, closing your eyes bracing yourself for the pain. ,,I don't feel well'' you manage to somehow mutter before the blonde reaches for the glass, giving it to Billie who is now standing behind you. ,,May I take you upstairs Y/N?'' Cordelia tries, before you mutter out some sort of reply, unable to speak at this point. With a swift motion, both women are on either of your side, helping you up the stairs, Wilhemina following behind as they take you into your room, softly laying you down on your bed as hot tears stream down your cheeks. The redhead watches in pain, her heart aching seeing you in this much despair, Billie nervously pacing around a little, Cordelia taking in your features. Her hand lingers softly over your forehead, easing the pain that was so obviously written across your features and softly aiding you to sleep.

,,What is wrong with her?'' Billie asks nervously, before Cordelia turns to her. ,,I assume it's the headaches, the doctors mentioned that would happen''. And then the three of them stand there, almost a little awkwardly, feeling the urge to stay with you but knowing you wouldn't like it, given your withdrawal from them. And so they leave one by one, Wilhemina staying for a little while longer, watching protectively over your sleeping form but eventually joining her lovers a few doors away. Beside you, neither of them manage to get much sleep, Billie still crushed by the guilt of the whole thing, Cordelia's thoughts circling around what she could do to fix this, Wilhemina contemplating the outcome of you never remembering. And as the next morning arrives, they are the first downstairs, despite the weekend and opportunity to sleep in but they couldn't, not without their sunshine by their side who made weekend mornings so much brighter.

When you wake not much later, you feel almost relief as the pounding headache had stopped, as this was the first morning where you didn't wake after some very confusing dreams. The night prior lingers on your mind and you can't help but feel guilty, guilty for the way you had been treating them, withdrawing from them as they had showed you nothing but kindness. And as you change your clothes, getting ready for the morning ahead, you decide to do a little better today, wanting to try for them. When you eventually make it downstairs, the three of them are sitting by the kitchen table, Wilhemina reading the newspapers, Cordelia getting ready for something and Billie smoking a cigarette. ,,Good Morning'' your voice rings through the quiet kitchen, startling all three of them in the process as Billie almost drops her cigarette, Wilhemina lowering the newspaper. ,,Good morning Y/N, how are you feeling?'' Cordelia asks carefully, noticing how your features look much brighter and better, almost as if nothing ever happened. ,,Better, thank you'' you announce before taking a step towards them. ,,I'm sorry about last night'' you mumble, barely audible but they still pick it up. ,,I'm sorry about everything'' you apologise, their features softening.

,,You don't need to be sorry, we understand this must be a lot'' Cordelia softly reassures, offering you a seat and you hesitantly take it. ,,Are you hungry?'' Billie asks, smiling at you. You glance between the three of them before nodding ,,What would you like?'' she asks, happy to finally see you eating. ,,I- I'' you pause for a moment, unsure what you actually like. ,,I'm not sure'' you explain ,,What do I like?'' you ask and they glance between each other before Cordelia smiles ,,Let me make you your favourite Y/N'' and within minutes, you find a plate with eggs, some pancakes and orange juice in front of you. ,,Thank you'' you smile warmly at her before beginning to eat, your mouth watering as soon as you take some bites. ,,So what are you three doing today?'' you ask, causing Wilhemina's eyebrow to raise, surprised at your sudden change and as Billie and Cordelia begin speaking, it almost feels as it had before. ,,And I need to go to the markets today'' Cordelia announces before you look up at her ,,May I come with you?'' you ask, completely taking her by surprise.

The blonde looks at Billie and Mina who are equally surprised, Billie's heart swelling a little and the smallest smirk playing on the redheads lips. ,,Of course Y/N, I'd be delighted'' she announces. And so, Cordelia takes you to the markets, the car ride this time filled with conversation as you ask her all sorts of questions about witches and how you became one, asking about the things you used to be able to do and her filling you in with as much detail as possible. And it feels good, being in her embrace, her warm features, how she takes you around the markets, showing you her favourite stalls, taking you to a candle one and showing you her favourite scents, taking you food shopping and getting some ingredients to make your favourite things. And as Cordelia makes one last stop, you waiting in the car, you can't help but enjoy her presence, liking how warm she was, how ethereal beautiful both inside and out and as you return, you can't help but feel a little flutter in your heart. ,,How was it?'' Billie asks, the two of them still in the kitchen as you both return.

,,It was really nice'' you announce as you help the supreme empty the bags, despite her saying you should rest but you felt good and so you didn't want to rest. After unpacking most things, you find a bag with medication, assuming she picked those up on her last stop and instinctively you place them in front of Wilhemina. ,,Mina your medicine'' you speak, without thinking about it further. However, when you see her shocked expression, the other two equally startled, confusion washes over you again. ,,Y/N?'' Cordelia asks ,,How did you know that?'' her eyebrows are furrowed, Wilhemina's features very serious as you hadn't called her Mina since the accident. Billie looks at you with so much anticipation that you feel bad ,,I'm not sure'' you admit, scared to disappoint them again. ,,I'm sorry'' you mumble, feeling some tears brim in your eyes. ,,Hey, it's okay'' Cordelia reassures, her hand reaching for yours instinctively. And this time, you let her take it, holding onto her as she seemed safe for now.

The same pain in your head quickly takes over again, causing for you to take a step back, realising that maybe it was best to get some rest like Cordelia had initially suggested. ,,I'm.. going to rest for a bit if that's okay'' you speak softly, only met with understanding from your girlfriends, their gazes reassuring with a hint of concern. And as you return to your bedroom, you quickly fall asleep after taking a painkiller, unbeknownst that your memories must be connected to the random pains you would get throughout the days. They let you rest for the remainder of the day, Wilhemina bringing you some dinner in the evening and putting it on your bedside table as you are still asleep. The next day you had agreed to sit in on one of Cordelia's classes and so after breakfast with Mina and Billie, you make your way to the greenhouse, a lot of other witches already sitting and waiting for the potion class to begin. You listen intensively to the supreme, talking about the different herbs and ingredients, having somewhat of a hard time concentrating as again her beauty absolutely took you back. She looked stunning today, one of her black dresses, and you couldn't help but smile, despite it being ever so small, again you could feel the butterflies in your stomach, her voice so soft, her eyes burning with desire for her teaching.

As she begins to explain the last step for the potion, you can't help but feel your eyebrows furrowing before you begin speaking ,,Delia- isn't it supposed to be this one?'' you question, pointing towards one of the other vials and this time the whole class turns around. They had known by now what had happened and seeing your girlfriends shocked expression, you could tell you must have just said something incredibly stupid. ,,Class is dismissed for now'' Cordelia's voice rings through the air. They leave, Zoe exchanging knowing glances and you sit there, awaiting your fate and being told off. ,,How did you know that sweetie?'' she asks as she approaches you and then it kinda dawns on you that you had been remembering, despite it being ever so slowly. The blonde notices your hesitation, before taking another step towards you ,,This is good Y/N, you are remembering'' she smiles, her eyes brimming with tears but the happy feeling is quickly replaced by the returning pounding headache. And instead of sharing with her or them what was bothering you, the pain that had been lingering, you again retreat to your own bedroom, wanting some peace and quiet, away from everyone.

The next time you wake up, you had again slept through dinner and most of the day, again finding a tray on your beside, knowing it was from Billie this time as she always put some extra snacks on your tray for you. Curiously, you make your way downstairs, feeling a strange longing to the three women that apparently are your everything. You felt the urge to sit beside them, be in their presence. And you sigh in relief, seeing them sit in front of the tv, Wilhemina in her armchair doing some knitting, Cordelia on the sofa, chatting to Billie who is sitting on another armchair, as the two of them talk about something. You linger by the doorway for a minute, taking in the scene in front of you and strangely feeling like an intruder, as if you didn't belong. But your heart told you otherwise and so you clear your throat gently, startling the three of them and causing their heads to snap towards you. ,,Hi'' you awkwardly say, glancing around the room ,,Sweet- Y/N are you okay?'' Cordelia asks, their faces etched with concern. ,,Yes- um- may I sit with you?'' you ask, the two blondes face beaming with excitement, a small smile tugged on Wilhemina's lips. Instinctively, you opt for the space next to Cordelia besides your redhead girlfriend and again it doesn't go by unnoticed as that was where you usually sat, including in that same way.

This time they don't say anything, having noticed how their pointing out seems to only overwhelm you further. Yet they exchange knowing glances. Billie notices how you seem quite taken back and interested in what's on tv and it doesn't cross her mind until then that her show was playing in the background. She sees your features focusing on the scenes, Billie not in any of the scenes as of right now ,,Is this your show?'' you ask as you glance at her and again the three of them are taken back by how you would know that, unsure whether either of them may have managed it in the past. ,,Yes darling'' Billie announces. A little while later, the image is almost as it had been before, Billie now snuggled up on the sofa besides Cordelia, you also in the blondes arms slightly as she opted for putting an arm around you and you not refusing. Wilhemina sitting beside you three and watching with pride and the image gives her hope. She had struggled with the idea of you not remembering lately but seeing your milestones makes her unbelievably proud. As you continue watching her show, you suddenly feel an unsettling feeling in your stomach, the feeling of doom, that something was coming, something was severely off.

And then as if by some miracle, your mind is flooded with images, voices, scenes that you can't pinpoint. Your eyes widen as you vividly remember floating in the air, the screams of someone calling for help, confusing pictures of Cordelia's hands filled with blood, your blood. Suddenly your whole body shakes in the blondes arms, startling the three of them. ,,Y/N- are you okay?'' the redhead asks, noticing your shocked and yet unreadable expression. Cordelia's hand reaches for yours, trying to offer you reassurance but you freeze for a moment, unable to process everything your brain was currently throwing at you. ,,Sorry I- I'm tired'' you speak quickly before heading upstairs, leaving behind your three concerned girlfriends. ,,Do you think it was the show that triggered her?'' Billie sighs, walking over to her bag to sneak away for the comfort of a cigarette. ,,I'm not sure'' Cordelia speaks, her face filled with hesitation and concern, unsure why you had been reacting the way you did. Eventually, they opt for bed, choosing to give you some space, thinking that was what you would prefer, but despite that, neither of them could find much sleep, the concern and grief about you losing your memories and them losing their little sunshine, lingering on their minds.

If they had checked on you, they would have found you pacing through your old bedroom, occasionally curling into a ball on your bed, before pacing again as it seems that all your memories are returning. It was painful and slow, the first memories returning from the accident and the hospital, those ones particularly triggering. After followed all the good ones, each one from your girlfriends, before some more painful ones followed. And it hurt, your body on fire, as well as your mind, the throbbing in your head almost knocking the breath from your lungs. It felt like you were going through some weird magic ritual, wondering for a second whether Cordelia may have done something but knowing your Delia would never do this without your consent. And then at last, after several hours it finally stops, your ears ringing a little as the pain lingers but having sufficiently decreased. And then your eyes widen again, suddenly remembering it all, your heart weighing heavy with the guilt, not remotely able to understand how horrible these few weeks must have been with you like this. And then it dawns on you how much had been withdrawing, almost in disbelief to be in your old bedroom.

And then with steps as quick as light, you burst through your door, quickly making your way towards your real bedroom, hesitating for a moment but then the longing wins. Opening the door, not caring you find the three of them in bed, Wilhemina and Cordelia instantly jolt up, seeing your slightly panicked expression, Billie slowly turning around, a little confused. ,,Mina'' you whisper as you take in her appearance, as if you had just woken up, as if you are seeing her again for the first time in weeks. ,,Mina'' you cry her name out now, tears streaming down your cheeks. Cordelia's worried brown eyes meet her redhead lover's. And Wilhemina is quick to aid to your side, balancing on her cane before standing in front of you, her hand softly wiping your tears ,,What is it little one?'' she asks, her features soft but filled with concern. ,,I- I remember'' you stutter, and as you look up at her, her own tears greet you. She doesn't say anything, simply pulling you forward and into her arms, your head leaning against her chest, before Cordelia kneels in front of you, causing you to leave Wilhemina's arms for a moment. ,,Sweetie?'' she asks carefully, as if to make sure it really was you. ,,Delia-'' you cry out, your faces equally crumbling in front of each other. ,,My god- I'm so sorry'' you cry out, but Cordelia is quick to take you into her arms, tears of relief, rolling down her cheeks.

,,What is it?'' Billie's voice rings through the air but as she meets Wilhemina's expression, she instantly knows. ,,Oh- babydoll'' Billie whispers, quickly on her feet to equally take you into her arms. And in the end, the four of you are sitting on your bed, finally having you back where you belong. And for hours, you seem to apologise, for withdrawing, for not remembering sooner, for staying in your old bedroom. But they are quick to shush each of those thoughts, making you understand that this wasn't your fault and that they feel like they owe you an apology. ,,I'm so sorry this happened to you babydoll'' Billie apologises and by the way her voice shakes, you can tell she was blaming herself still. ,,This wasn't your fault Billie'' you reassure, before you ask Cordelia how they dealt with those spirits in the end and her filling you in. And then a silence follows, a comfortable one, finally being with your lovers again, finally remembering just why you loved each of them so much. For a while, you spent some time on Billie's lap, her telling you over and over again how brave you had been, snuggling into you, before the blonde softly falls asleep, content with having her babydoll back. Next you find yourself in Delia's arms, the blonde listening contently how you ended up remembering, her face crumbling as you explained the depths of pain you had gone through. ,,You were so brave sweetheart'' she tells you over and over again, eventually kissing you good night, content to have her little sunshine back.

And at last, you find yourself in Wilhemina's arms, your head resting comfortably on her chest as you look up at her features. It was dark, the only light source the moon illuminating the coven slightly, it was quiet, Billie and Delia's snoring softly filling the room. And then Wilhemina breaks it, telling you how glad she was to have you remember, how sorry she was and how proud she was of you. Her words are quiet, delicate and so unlike her usual demeanour. You snuggle into her further, feeling safe with her arms wrapped around you. ,,The truth is little one- I could never do this without you'' she admits and when you meet her brown eyes, you tear up again, her words so raw, filled with honesty as she fights back her walls and usual sternness keeping her from revealing her feelings like that. And so, the two of you hold onto each other through the night, eventually sleep washing over you both. Wilhemina content with having her little one back. And so after a long journey, you finally are back where you belong, right there, right now, with them.

#cordelia goode #sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #ahs #american horror story #billie dean howard #sarah paulson x reader #asks #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode imagine #wilhemina venable x reader #billie dean howard x reader

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nanakiwii · 3 days

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STARDEW VALLEY HANNIGRAM???

What the actual-?!

Really????

The voices won.

I regret nothing.

---------

Prison was boring.

Being locked up, as Hannibal expected, was all about routine and schedule. You wake up, eat, shower and shit when they tell you to. Good behavior was the key to bring back some of his old life pleasures: books and music, for example, were some of those achievements he earned.

But, Hannibal sensed he still needed something, or, someone to fill this void he called existence. After three years of isolation and intense silence, Hannibal couldn't help but to dig in every interaction he shared with his beloved.

In the time while they were apart, Will - somehow - managed to get engaged and marry a faceless woman and, as much as it hurt Hannibal, he couldn't deny he was happy to see Will as desperate as himself to try to easy the pain of their distance.

The lack of human contact didn't do great to his temperament and Hannibal knew we was becoming more "sassy" as days passed. He was bored. The bliss of the attention he received by the media was gone for ages. He found every assumption of his "diagnose" wrong and very dumb. "If this is the proof of human brightness, then we're destined to live in darkness" he thought.

It was this boredom that made him poke Alana Bloom until he discovered a way to taunt Will and to end his sickening loneliness.

Stardew Valley.

Apparently, it was farming game he could play with friends and family. And who was Will if not a friend and part of his family? Well, Hannibal guessed he had to find a way to play this exquisite video game with his precious Will.

---------

~ Inspired by this horrendous comic I drew on the printscreen brush tool a long time ago while I was sleep deprived and very very bored.

Text:

Will: "What is this game about?"

Hannibal: "I suppose it's a farm game, Will."

Will: "And, why you wanna play with me?"

Hannibal: "Well, Alana commented about it, and I'm curious."

Will: "I don't believe you."

Hannibal: "Come on, Will. I'm locked and bored. Help me out."

Will: "Fine."

Later...

Will *behind a computer screen*: "I still don't know how you manage to have those things."

Hannibal *also behind a computer screen*: "I'm a very behaved prisoner."

Will: "..."

Will: "No, look, let's just play."

[Stardew Valley home screen]

Hannibal: "Soo much hair options."

Will: "Shut up."

Hannibal: "What do I put on 'favorite thing?'"

Hannibal: "Such a hard question!"

Will: "I wrote 'dogs'"

Hannibal: "Yeah, I suppose you did."

Will: "You want me to ask, don't you?"

Hannibal: "Ask what?"

Will: "What did you write?"

Hannibal: "Oh, hoho... You would be surprised."

Will: "If you say 'pork' I'll kill you."

Hannibal: "Then, you better pick a knife."

Will: "Fuck you and your cannibal jokes, Hannibal!"

Hannibal: "Me and my jokes."

[Hannibal's character building screen:

Name: Hannibal M.D

Farm Name: Hospital

Favorite Thing: Will Graham ]

End.

AGAIN: SORRY ABOUT THE MAJOR GRAMMAR AND ENGLISH ERRORS. I WAS HALF ASLEEP HALF ALIVE AND I NEEDED SOME CRACK FIC TO KEEP GOING!

I wanted to post it somewhere because I keep laughing alone about what I made and wanted to share with other people.

The art is shit, but someday I'll make something better (I probably won't. Will I?)

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yell0wsalt · 1 month

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Obligatory OTP Asks!

Linzin: 7, 29, 42

Irosami: 30, 44, 57

Ryuvira: 3, 14, 28

...may have gone a little overboard, have fun 😛

Linzin:

7. Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Absolutely. They’ve had a series of icky rainy days and neither of them are in the mood to get out and do anything. Cue gathering as many pillows around as possible and building a fort in the living room.

If following elements from canon, Lin has hated the rain ever since. Tenzin first brought up t it as a subtle way to distract her.

29 Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Lin is definitely jumping in the elevator and Tenzin is freaking out. She may or may not be using her metal bending to mess with the cable pulley system of the elevator...

It’s adds to the thrill.

And Tenzin’s stress.

42. What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Fall. Lin loves the coziness of the fall season. Leaves changing, seasonal treats, etc. Tenzin has fun with the weather: cool breeze, leaves falling, etc.

Irosami:

30. Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing?

Of course it depends on the occasion: what they’re doing, if anything. If they’re lying around in the house Iroh finds it very attractive when she wears his clothing. So he’ll pick out something of his for her to wear: part of his uniform such as his jacket, a casual shirt of his, things like that.

Asami while she does love a man in uniform, adores it when he is dressed casually yet nice. Preferably with his sleeves rolled up. See them forearms.

44. Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

Asami is the one dancing in the kitchen while making dinner. She’ll sing along and dance to what’s playing on the station.

Iroh may walk into the kitchen to see how the food was coming along and catch her in the act. Silently he’d watch from the doorway and break out a laugh when she’d get distracted and nearly mess up the food.

Iroh’s not very comfortable with dancing, so he wouldn’t do much of it on his own. Asami would have to be persuasive to get him to join on her little dance party.

57. Who’s the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

So when it’s just the two of them, Iroh is the stickler for the grocery list. Meticulous in planning out the best time to go, which grocer would be best for the items they want that week, and the optimal travel plan throughout the grocery store aisles.

Meanwhile Asami is grabbing what looks good.

When they have kids though Iroh is more lax and indulges in what his kids want to get.

Ryuvira:

3. Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Yes! Kuvira is a freaking thief for taking his clothes. Half of his shirts are hers now. He doesn’t mind it in the slightest.

14. How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

With Ryu’s ambivalent nature, one of the biggest things about him is how he doesn’t care. That sounds crazy, but that also makes him someone who doesn’t really judge, depending on who the person is.

Kuvira is very self driven. Being with her pushes him and inspires him to grow, do and be better. It opens up a world for him to learn how to care about those around him.

While Kuvira is a very driven person, she’s also insecure, and really hard on herself. He balances that out to tell her in one way or another, “It doesn’t matter. None of it does. I’ll still be there for you.”

28 What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

They keep it pretty simple with pet names. Anything super fluffy or ooey-gooey for Ryu makes his skin crawl and also sounds weird coming from Kuvira.

Ryu tried it out for Kuvira early on in their relationship since he thought that was something couples were “supposed to do.” It made him physically ill

They’ve settled on playing around with their names (‘Vira, Vee) but also use common terms of endearment (darling, babe)

Obligatory OTP asks

#these were so much fun!!#And writing fics for these three it was also helpful #thanks for the ask! 😄#Irosami #Linzin #ryuvira

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criticalrolo · 1 year

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it must be crazy for people watching The Legends Of Vox Machina as their first intro to critical role to go onto AO3 looking for Content and to see This under the tag

“who the fuck are… omg Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III”

#also as always pour one out for the caduceus enjoyers lmfao #but also how funny to have Three Taliesin characters represented in the top 10 lol #critical role #tlovm #girl help Caleb has 3x as many fics as caddy SKFJDJSKSL #wait I’m doing the math. it’s 2.74x that’s wild #well. I Have To Do My Part to write more I guess lol

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 1 month

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Seven Fic(s) Sunday

@mellaithwen had a moment of sheer insanity and decided that instead of doing seven sentences from one fic she'd do a sentence (or two) from seven different fics!?

(Amy, blink twice if this is a hostage situation.)

But I'm also unhinged so I thought hey why not, surely I have seven WIPs lying around. And sure enough I do! So here we are:

1) F&F AU:

“How’d you get up here so quickly?” an officer asks him when taking Buck’s statement. “How’d it take you so long to get here?” Buck fires back.

2) The Xedgin Fic That's Giving Me Fits:

“You probably won’t be able to save him,” Holga points out. “You’ll just be killing yourself, too.”

3) The Gang Plays D&D

When Chim shows up with a whole notebook of backstory relevant to the actual world Bobby’s constructed, they all get the very disconcerting sight of Bobby trying not to cry with joy. Athena mutters he hadn’t even looked so happy at their wedding.

4) Platonic Sugar Baby AU:

“Let me get this straight,” Maddie says. “This guy doesn’t treat you like a piece of meat and you’re… unhappy about it?”

5) Star Trek AU:

“Your girlfriend took a job on an archeological dig halfway across the known galaxy,” Hen points out. “Women flee you?” Ensign Panikkar looks both dismayed and weirdly impressed, which is depressing. “Routinely?”

6) Jingle Bells I'm in Hell and Nobody Cares (AKA the Mystery Pairing Fic You All Will Be Subjected To):

Here’s the thing, because—as previously stated—Jamie Winter is not jealous, or envious, or concerned, or anything else in regards to DI Ben Jones. It’s just that while he knows Barnaby might’ve forgotten, Sarah Barnaby is the reigning Midsomer Quiz Night Champion and one hundred percent did not forget, which means this can only be one thing: This is an ambush.

7) It's Only Six Months Until Halloween:

“What do you mean?” Buck asks, picking up the crumpled receipt and handing it back to Eddie. Eddie stares at Buck. In fact, everyone’s kinda staring at Buck.

And yes, Chim is the only one of the D&D group who shows up prepared with a plot-relevant character backstory. Which, as any DM will tell you, is plenty of good reason to burst into tears. XD

#mads writes stuff #tagging thing #mellaithwen #this was a lot of fun LOL #I have three Halloween fics planned for this year #and my goal - Satan help me - is to have my Xedgin fic and the other Buddie fics finished before that #Buck: this sugar daddy doesn't want to fuck me and I'm MAD about it #Maddie: I'm gonna need you to walk me through this one again bud #also given all the info mentioned in that sentence I shared y'all should damn well be able to figure out what that random ship is #and exactly what brand of insanity has gripped me this time #also! whoever can guess what the Halloween snippet I shared is about gets um! I don't know! A prize! Something! Cookies!#I will give one hint: it's a bit that I 100% stole from another TV show

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crossbackpoke-check · 2 months

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it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

#OFFICIAL FIC ANNOUNCEMENT 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ i wish i had pretty fic graphics but alas i have No Skill and also. so much work i should be doing bu #HI SHE’S HERE i would love to say this is a complete surprise drop except i have Anxiety & i needed to ask you guys about it beforehand #in my defense i started writing this in like. january far before any tragedy occurred #because square asked about my tags on their dewey2 art and she spawned like. a million more thoughts about it #including the part where i got absolutely kicked in the face with the lightning vision of those two lines.#like those two lines are the first actual lines of the fic i wrote ajdhkwdiowdjiw ANYWAY please be nice to me i know i am always like #‘this is not the first real fic i ever thought i’d post’ and if i had a nickel i’d have three but this is the first pwp i’ve ever posted #and it’s 8k and it’s not a fic for an exchange (although technically i did very much write this for the dewey^2 hivemind so.)#i have SO many things to say i have so many comments on this doc also i couldn’t pick a title for the LONGEST time and i finally decided on #this one but the full quote was too long:#all the rest of what i want with you that scares me shitless #so. i was angling SO hard to make a yung gravy lyric as a title bc i saw the video of him at a wild game but i couldn’t find a good one #and instead y’all got a very sentimental title l m a o.#liv in the replies #shout out to the extended universe this lives in and also my unhinged comments in the docs.#if you liked fun fuck a baby in him friday i’ll be here all week i promise i am the exact same in the comments as i am in the tags 🫡#the NUMBER of times i wrote something in this by pulling it out of my ass and then actually went back and did the research & was RIGHT is.#far too high. also the amount of coincidental things that dropped while i was writing this (yung gravy song about pregnancy AFTER i wheeze #laughed myself into a yung gravy title the athletic player poll confirming my restaurant & bar choices from googling ‘st. paul good bars’…)#also if anybody got advice on formatting for these little announcements. help. this is different from my miro/luka one &i’m still not happy

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tickle-bugs · 1 year

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For the writing thingie, maybe ler!Robin lee!Steve? The phrase could be “Steve, don’t make me sit on you again…”

your honor, they are everything to me. hope u enjoy!! still trying to figure out robin tbh

Under Covers

Robin leans her bike against the garage, careful not to scrape. Steve’s home--his car sits idle in the driveway, waiting patiently to ferry them both to Family Video. They’re already late, technically, but they’re not late late yet.

An argument could be made that she could simply bike to work, admonishing Steve from the high horse of punctuality, but that’s no fun.

She jiggles her key in the lock and throws the door open, dumping her bag by the door. It’s quiet and dark downstairs, the kitchen unused, neither of which are a good sign. Steve’s usually a morning person, but on the days where he isn’t, he has to be surgically removed from sleep. It’s a coin toss, really, if he’s late over his hair or late for oversleeping and his hair.

She inhales as much as her lungs can manage, then: “Steeeeeeevvvvveeeeee!”

No response. She scowls.

She helps herself to a glass of orange juice and promptly rinses the glass, never one to make extra work for Steve when possible. Bothering him, yes, but inconveniencing him? Not if she can help it.

She thumps up the stairs two at a time. Steve’s bedroom door is cracked open when she gets there, exposing the comically lumpy mass of blankets on his bed and the upsetting pile of laundry in not one, but two corners of the room. Robin has half a mind to do a running jump onto the bed, but he’s gotten way too good at convincing her to take pre-work naps. They need this job. Unfortunately.

“Steve. Steven. Steeb.” Robin leans in the doorframe, biting her lip on an affectionate smile. Steve’s hair pokes out just at the top of the blanket pile.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” She says a little louder, moving over to the left side of the bed. Steve wrinkles his nose and makes a grumbly noise.

“Three, two--”

“Bobin?” He mumbles, squinting at her.

She pounces. He screams, muffled by the blanket, but then he tumbles into wild giggles and flails for purchase.

“Get up, get up, get up!” She squeezes at his sides through the blanket, feeling around blindly but knowing intimately where to strike. His arms fly free of the blanket and he starts grappling with her, trying to poke at her like the bastard he is, but she’s on a goddamn mission. Either they’re getting to work on time (unlikely) or he’s going to die (still on the table).

“Get. up.” She starts tickling his ribs, sliding up under his arms every time he tries to swat at her. Steve honest-to-god snorts, which she didn’t know he could do. She catalogues it for later.

“W-Why--Ah, Robin, nohoho!” Steve whines and covers his face. She starts poking at his stomach, speeding up whenever he tries to grab her. His laughter revs like an engine. He twists away suddenly, curling up on his side and as close to the edge of the bed as he can physically get. Robin chuckles at him and tazers his side. He makes no sense. Only Steve would forfeit all the empty space in his bed rather than use it to escape.

“We’re late, dingus!” She reaches back and squeezes his thigh. He shrieks like his life depends on it, voice cracking around his laughter in that way she loves.

“I’m up!” Steve wheezes, lunging forward to grab her wrists. She squeezes again and he crumples into the mattress, throwing his head back against the pillows. He tries to say her name, or possibly curse at her, but all that comes out is a jumble of syllables and frantic, nervous giggles.

“No, if you were up, you’d be getting ready.” She pauses, just to prove her point. Steve pushes his hair out of his face and fixes her with the bitchiest look he can manage. She grins. He scowls.

“I’ll drag you out of bed if I have to.” She crosses her arms. When he wriggles down into the bed like an indignant little worm, he earns her wrath. It’s only natural. She’s given him an out and a half. Robin feels around under the blanket and grabs Steve’s ankle, skittering her nails over the curve of his heel and up. It’s a fast track to a black eye, but she’s gotten quicker lately.

There’s a screechy peal of laughter, then a thump--a loud one, and not from Steve’s side. Robin peers over the right side of the bed, feeling for the nearest pillow to defend herself from whatever creatures might lurk in here.

Instead, she finds Eddie Munson. His hair’s a mess, more so than usual, and his face is bright pink. He’s oddly jittery.

“What.” Robin and Eddie blink at each other. She looks down at her hand, clutched around what is decidedly not Steve’s foot, then back up at Eddie. He gives her a sheepish wave.

“Oh my god.” She drops Eddie’s ankle. Eddie. Here. In Steve’s bed.

“Robin--” Steve holds his hands out soothingly.

“Oh my god.” She drops her head in her hands.

“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or do I need to change my locks?” Eddie asks from somewhere beside her. He climbs back up onto the bed and drops beside her. The mattress dips to accept him.

“Still deciding,” She groans. Steve rubs her back, murmuring something soft and sickeningly fond in Eddie’s direction. She’s happy for Steve--god, she’s over the fucking moon for him, really. She teases him because someone needs to, but her heart swells knowing there was a resolution to all the yearning passing between the two of them.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I should’ve been the first to know!” Robin smacks Steve’s bare chest. He catches her hand.

“Well, you’re like the third to know.” Robin glares at him, but Steve throws his hands up in surrender. “Kidding! Third, because me and Eddie. Honestly, Rob, we were gonna tell you.”

“We’re, uhm, still figuring it out.” Eddie nudges her shoulder, but his shmoopy eyes are firmly on Steve. Gross.

“Alright, well…I have questions. So many questions. But first--” She pokes his chest as aggressively as possible. Eddie copies her, hitting Steve’s stomach instead.

“Up, yes, I knohow--” Steve’s voice breaks on a giggle. He crumples awkwardly into Robin, twisting away from Eddie. Robin’s tempted to help, but she leans away from Steve to give Eddie more access. Drama’s more fun, anyhow. Steve doesn’t laugh nearly enough.

“No--” Steve points accusingly at Eddie. Eddie only grins wider in response.

“You’ve given me a tremendous gift, Buckley!” Eddie cackles, wiggling his fingers into Steve’s sides. Steve yelps and bolts, managing to skid in the bathroom and slam the door before Eddie can vault over the bed. Robin and Eddie both chuckle.

“Sorry if I helped make you late,” Eddie says, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. A devious little idea grows in the back of her head.

“Yeah, you did.” She lunges at him with an evil laugh. Eddie squeaks and tries to scramble away, but Robin’s on him already, heart growing three sizes at the now-pair of dinguses she’d never choose to live without.

#my fics #bug’s greatest hits #stranger things #steeb and bobin <3 #ticklish!steve harrington #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #yes robin has a key to steve's house #also eddie was 100% helping robin tickle steve she just didn't know #god i missed these three so much. i miss writing them!!!!

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yellowocaballero · 3 months

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DIMILETH! DIMILETH!! DIMILETH!!!!!!! *claps enthusiastically*

YEAH DIMILETH! I'M GONNA RAMBLE ABOUT IT!

There's a serious dearth of good Dimileth content, I think. A pretty high % is E and those kind of feel like dressed up xreader fics in generic aus, tbh. Considering how Byleth's entire character arc is about her growing out of being your self-insert and actualizing as a full person, I can't really get behind them. I think uh there's a truly excessive number of ways to write them badly, out of character, or both.

I've talked SEVERAL times about how I dislike those mommy gf/bf dynamics, especially in H/C. There's always a whumpee to project on, who normally has anxiety or depression and has panic attacks, and a perfect partner who provides therapy and hugs and the comfort. In real life it would be remarkably unhealthy. People are usually better about this in M/F dynamics, but it's unhealthy straight or gay. Where Dimileth comes in is: a) it is extremely easy to fall into this trap, because of how people relate to Dimitri and Byleth and Dimitri's canon relationship, and b) it is uniquely bad, because it is very similar to their teacher/student dynamic. And you want them to grow out of that. You do. For obvious reasons.

What I love about Byleth is that she is kind and nurturing, despite everything. She's so empathic, understanding, supportive, and kind towards Dimitri. I love the story of an emotionless person choosing kindness - somebody who made the conscious decision to turn away from a live of endless violence and death and choose family and love. I don't want to erase that just bc it's surface level mommy gf.

For me, what I decided on is to just flip those tables. You have to completely reconfigure that dynamic into one between two adults and equals. And I think it eventually ended up as - Byleth provided unconditional support, love, and caring to these kids, and now that she's Achieved Sadness it's her turn to receive that. You have to love to have love returned. During their little roleplay scene, Byleth experiences a wonderful feeling of safety and understanding and care. She provided that for Dimitri, and Dimitri provided that for her. She had to be the adult for a long time, on many levels she is still being expected to be the adult, but now that she's speedrunning emotional puberty she has somebody to help her through that (Narratively, it's a good balance for Dimitri himself too - as somebody who received care for a while, I do want to show that he's still an adult who's capable of providing that to others).

Whew. Normally romantic ships are uhhh not the point in anything I write, but in this fic the Dimileth encapsulates the point. Obviously in Phase 1 there was a lot of set-up for it, and equally obviously Byleth did not even passingly think of him romantically or sexually (like would she have even be capable???), but in a story about teenagers becoming adults and a girl finding humanity I think a sweet way to capture that is the insanity of somebody's first teenage love. Thanks for reading!

#my writing #my asks #dimitri gets his act together three times in this fic and it is exclusively to help byleth when she needs help #hngh it was hard to find fic that hits the notes i want for them. made my own fun.#normally I would have absolutely never written student/teacher like ever #even ex-student #but there were so many complicating factors here I reasoned I could pull it off #if it sounds like i was super careful about acknowledging it started there and then completely divorcing them from that #i was ! lol #also *cups hands around mouth*#yes Dima IS a LITTLE yandere but it's NOT in the possessive way #it's in the “that guy bothering you queen? want his head? want me to fucking kill him? want him to fucking die?” way #get it right.

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steelycunt · 1 year

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an um. snippet. from me. for the first time since. july :-)

#from a fic you likely will not see for at least. two months. but still <3 #reallt brave of me to snippet considering ive still got no plan from one scene to the next and have only written um. four scenes but. well #if you all bear witness to evidence of the wips existence then maybe it will help me commit to finishing it. :-)#this is also. this snippet is from the very first scene and it is not my favourite but the snippet i WANTED to share is simply too long so.#sorry about that. :-/ also im just talking now you don’t need to read these tags but it is so lovely being in remus’ head now im so used to #it it used to be so unnerving…but i live here now i love it…im also in a bit of a #loving sirius era atm so actually im enjoying writing about how pretty he is. (<- me after being visisted by three spirits on Christmas Eve)#special shout-out to hope lupin. kicking things off immediately with her funeral she is so killable and i really appreciate it.#tsahonip feels like a silly acronym so i think we’re sticking to shortening it to.#tsah #snippet #my fic #r/s #anyway. if it goes the way i want it to the whole fic is very. london and dreary flats and bars and mugs of tea and resentment + melancholy #you know. because ive never done that before have i. also the discography of the smiths so prepare for that on the playlist soz :-(

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catsafari25 · 5 months

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A/N: Hello again, and with this I think (?) I may have succeeded in writing enough bionicle fic to get it out of my system (unless another plot bunny hits me like a cannonball, but... eh, we'll see) and thus, here is the companion piece to the Vakama & Roodaka oneshot.

This time, exploring the scene where Vakama entered the Great Temple, from his side of things! This was also partially inspired by the scene in Challenge of the Hordika where Nokama is almost physically repulsed in trying to enter the Great Temple :)

In the tunnels beneath the temple, Vakama must stoop.

At first he shuffles, mutated arm tucked against him and his sole hand brushing only briefly along the floor to steady himself, but the passages are dark and deep and lined with creatures which seek out the weak. The eyes that watch him are not hungry. They keep their bellies too full for that.

In the end, it is easier quicker to drop to all fours, to share the weight between claw and tool that feet alone cannot. His altered form folds into the new stance with frightening familiarity. It's comfortable.

Natural.

The crown of his mask grazes the tunnel's ceiling, but only in passing. His gait is sure. Well. Surer than the ungainly slouch it had been before.

It was said – back when Matoran were awake to say such things – that even the strongest swimmers of Ga-Metru would hesitate before plunging into the depths of the protodermis sea. Not because the creatures there had any fondness for the taste of Matoran. In truth, it was thought that the rahi actively disliked the flavour. No, it was because the way Matoran swam was indistinguishable from the rahi's usual prey. Only when they had sunk tooth and jaw into their meal would they realise their mistake.

It was an annoying, if harmless mistake for the rahi.

Matoran couldn't say the same.

Vakama's early crawl through the passage had been like that of a Matoran swimmer: functional, but slow and indiscernible from wounded prey. Creatures drag themselves down into these depths to die, in hopes that they will be devoured only when they are too far gone to feel it. The eyes are patient. They will wait to see if this newcomer is similarly inclined.

And so when Vakama drops to his haunches, the eyes blink. Reassess. He moves less like the hunted and more like the hunter now, more predator than prey, and the eyes – and teeth – keep their distance after that.

The path Vakama stalks through was once a protodermis pipe, made obsolete even before the cataclysm. Newer conduits had been built, more efficient, more resilient, and this one had been disconnected but never dismantled. When he reaches its origin, it takes some effort – and his blazer claw – to break the seal across the hatchway, but when he does, one of the temple's protodermis purification chambers looms above him.

The room beyond is quiet.

Unmarked.

He doesn't realise he's stopped until the chittering of his audience draws closer. The snarl he throws back echoes off the pipe's walls, and the eyes retreat, but do not leave.

Vakama curls his hand around the lip of the hatch, and then falters.

Something is wrong.

It's not a pain, because the feeling does not hurt as it ought, but something is undeniably, fundamentally wrong. It causes his breath to catch, his hand to flinch, and it would be so easy, so easy, to turn and walk away, only...

Only he came here for a reason.

The wrongness flares, amplified for a moment, and then he pulls himself up. The eyes watch, but do not follow. Do they feel it too? Can even such base creatures sense the innate malice the temple exudes?

He clambers out of the purification chamber – empty and abandoned now – and stumbles upon his landing. He catches himself, but does not rise back to his feet.

Wrong.

This is wrong.

And at the edge of the wrongness there is a strange sort of terror. It dreads the same way the fire fears the sea, the same way the prey fears the predator; it is the meeting of two primally antithetical forces where only one can survive. It whispers turn back through his mind.

He moves into the next room.

It's one he knows well. Light filters down from the rot-stained windows, centering – as it had the day he'd first seen it – on the suva, and casting long sentinel shadows of the columns standing to attention around it. A crack mars the suva, its stone dome now split cleanly in two from the quakes, and – drawn by some desire he cannot identify (instinct, curiosity... nostalgia?) – he approaches.

It seems so small now. Even bowed and altered in his Hordika form, he looms over the Ta-Metru symbol he'd once had to stretch to reach.

Unbidden, his hand moves to the niche where once he'd placed a Toa Stone – where once he had though himself chosen, duty-bound, destiny-gifted – and falters a breath from the stone.

The wrongness spikes.

Screams.

And with a twist of something he will not call horror, he understands it is not originating from himself.

But from the temple.

It is repulsion. It's alienation. It's recognising him, but as other, as rahi.

It's disgust that a monster would dare enter its sanctuary.

In the Ta-Metru carving, stone once polished to the point of fragmented reflection, he sees a glimmer of his own face. Neither Toa nor Matoran. Nothing blessed by Mata Nui.

Vakama recoils.

And then a wave of his own disgust, propelled by that fury that runs so close to the surface now, rolls through him. If you didn't want us as the Toa, you should've stopped Makuta from choosing us, he thinks, and digs his claws into the stonework.

The wrongness sings.

But he knows it for what it is now, and his morphed, clawed hand gorges scars through the carving. The stone is soft. Its makers had never imagined someone would take a blade to it.

There comes a tapping from across the room, echoing brazenly off the ancient stone walls, and Vakama retreats instinctively into the shadows. A Rahaga enters.

Norik?

No, this Rahaga's armour is more akin to a Po-Matoran than a Ta-Matoran's, the colour of dust and stone. Vakama tries to recall the Rahaga's name – and then dismisses the attempt.

It won't matter, in the end.

The Rahaga walks as he always has, stooped and slow, but clearly unhindered by the temple. He passes by the suva and runs one gnarled hand across the stonework, his movements marred by curiosity rather than reverence.

The rage arrives a fully-formed creation. It drowns out the wrongness, floods the apprehension, and he is moving before he's decided that this is the path he wants.

It is not pain, for it does not hurt as it ought.

But it does still hurt.

Whatever the Rahaga might once have been, they are old and weak now. Four are captured before Vakama's rage has a chance to cool, but the ire is no less dangerous when it does.

(That's the thing about Ta-Metru; it's not a place of fire so much as it is of magma. And magma doesn't extinguish with the cold; it sets. It moors itself into place, an unmovable, burning force.)

The rage settles, solidifies around his heart and lungs and carves a home between his breaths.

(Magma is not fire. It does not leap blindly from one source to the next. Instead it advances. Slowly. Steadily. It finds a channel, a destination, and it engulfs all in its path until it reaches it.)

He finds the last two remaining Rahaga, pathetically ignorant to their brothers' fates and still scavenging the temple for answers. He hears the way Norik appraises his sister's translation, relief clear in his voice that they are one step further on this wild rahi chase. Relief, surely, that the Rahaga are one step closer to regaining their Toa form.

(And Vakama's anger has found its destination.)

He does not descend on the Rahaga's leader the way he has the others. No. Norik will know what's coming for him first. He gets to fear. Vakama waits until Gaaki has gone, until Norik is alone, and then he circles. The wrongness thrums in his veins, weighing him down and labouring his breaths. It doesn't matter. Let Norik hear his approach.

Norik doesn't try to run. Vakama will give him that much. (A wise choice. Vakama intends for this encounter to last, but if Norik runs, Vakama cannot be sure he won't chase.) Instead, the malformed once-Toa calls out and actually tries to approach him. Stupid. Doesn't he know that he won't win any fight, transformed as he is? As both of them are? No, instead, he tries to talk. As if they are equals, as if Norik has done anything to deserve his respect rather than his scorn. As if he has earned the temple's forgiveness for his trespassing.

Even when Vakama raises the fate of Norik's fellow Rahaga, Norik attempts to sway him with the illusion of reason, talking of duty and unity, as if he's not using the other Toa Hordika to chase after a rahi myth for his own desires. As if their roles are in any way comparable, both Toa of Fire once, both leaders, it's true, but Vakama hasn't forgone his duty to chase after selfish needs.

And it stops now.

Vakama circles closer, and Norik is still talking, unease in his voice, but not fear. Still searching for the right words to turn Vakama to his bidding as he has the other Toa Hordika. Ever the voice of two-faced logic.

Why won't he just shut up?

Does Norik think him to be as gullible as the others? As quick to desert his duty as them?

And Vakama knows he wants – needs – to shake that assurance, that arrogance out of Norik. Needs to see that facade of self-righteous wisdom crumble into the terror of his situation.

The growl begins deep in his chest and, unleashed, it becomes a roar. He rears out of the darkness, into the weak sphere of light surrounding Norik – and there, there he finally sees true fear fill the old fool's eyes.

Something slams into Vakama and he reels, his roar cut short. His hand reaches automatically, defensively, to his mask. He finds only water there. It clings to him, imbued with some sort of power – he can feel something other in it – but otherwise impotent.

"Leave my brother alone," Gaaki snarls. She stands in the doorway, small and hopelessly overpowered, but her shoulders are tensed with a stubborness Vakama recognises. Already, her spinner is powering up for another shot.

Well. Two can play at that game.

Vakama's rhotuka fires into motion, but the water has seeped into the mechanism, and dowses the fire before it has a chance to catch. He gives it a withering look, before turning the expression onto Gaaki. "Very clever."

Another water spinner hits him, but this time he is braced for it and all it does is wash harmlessly off him.

"Is that all you have?" he asks. His blazer claw splutters, but the claws on his hand flex. After all, there's more than one way to defang a muaka...

Gaaki steps back. Good. She knows she's outmatched. "It's a devastating attack underwater," she offers, and her words are strong but there is a cracked edge to them.

"Then you'd better start finding a puddle," Vakama growls, "before my claws find you," and he drops into a run, feet pounding and fangs bared and that ever-present wrongness humming about him.

She doesn't flee. Just like Norik, she stands her ground, gnarled fingers wrapped tight around her staff. Her eyes are hard, but he sees the way her hands shake.

How long will her resolve last, Vakama wonders. Before or after the claws find their mark?

He never finds out.

He's knocked off his feet before he reaches her, and when he hits the ground, ropes of energy pin him to the earth, like a water-bound rahi caught in a net.

What–

Norik.

He'd forgotten Norik.

He thrashes against the restraints, but they hold strong – for now. His blazer claw splutters again, but it does nothing to the energy that binds him.

He stills as he hears footsteps approach.

The two Rahaga hobble into his line of sight. Gaaki is breathing hard, as if only now is she allowing herself to feel the fear. "You left that late, Norik," she says, and even the breath that follows sounds more like a shaken wheeze than a nervous laugh. "Almost too late."

"I only had the one shot. I couldn't afford to miss," Norik replies. "He's got our brothers. Gaaki, go find–"

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," she retorts. "I only went for a moment before, and look what would have happened if I hadn't returned."

Vakama tilts his head as well as the energy net will allow. He grins at the Rahaga, anger curdling it into a sneer. "Yes, Gaaki, you're very good bait, congratulations." He shifts his gaze to Norik. "But you've always been so good at getting others to do your dirty work, haven't you, Norik?"

Norik doesn't even have the decency of guilt. Instead, he simply looks tired. "Whatever you think you know–"

"I know the truth! You don't care about the Matoran, you only care about yourselves!" He strains against the ropes, and although they do not break, there's a little more give in them than before. He slumps back to the ground, breathing hard. "You might have the other Toa fooled. You might even have the temple fooled, but not me," he growls, and the temple's hatred presses down on him, straining his last words.

Gaaki places a frail hand on her brother's arm. "Norik," she says, and there is such unbearable sorrow in her voice. "He looks in pain."

"It's not my doing," Norik assures her softly. "My snare spinner only binds."

Vakama snarls. "I don't need pity from the likes of you. I know what you are."

"We're allies, Vakama," Norik says, in that insufferably reasonable way of his. "Friends."

"You're frauds," Vakama snaps. He twists against his restraints. They slacken, just a touch. "Liars. You don't deserve to walk these floors."

And the Rahaga stand there, unburdened by the temple's hate, strangers to this land, to Metru Nui, and yet it is Vakama the temple repulses? After everything he has forgone, the life he's abandoned, the friendships he's lost, Mata Nui punishes him?

His rhotuka fires off a fire spinner, and it goes wide, cracks a wall. Norik and Gaaki stumble back, Norik preparing another snare shot, but the energy net holding Vakama snaps. Vakama lurches forward, suddenly free, and slams into Norik.

The snare spinner wraps itself around a column. It lights up the room with crackling energy.

A blast of water grazes past his shoulder, too shy of hitting Norik to commit to taking the easy shot, and Vakama reels towards Gaaki. He fires with a snarl, but hears the snare spinner coming again and ducks at the last moment.

Again his own attack misses and the shot cleaves clean through a wall. Something on the other side begins to smoulder.

Then it begins to rumble.

It's a low sound at first, as deep as the earth and just as vast. Almost like a distant growl. But then the cracks begin to spiral out across the roof, along the columns, and the room buckles.

The light flickers. The frames of the high windows above collapse.

The world becomes fragmented, filled with flickering images. Falling masonry and toppling pillars and dust – but the sounds never relent. Even in the depths of the passing darkness, the thunder continues.

And when the dust settles, so does an awful silence.

Vakama straightens, or does his best approximation of it. Fragments of cracked protodermis fall from his shoulders, his head, his back. He withdraws the hand which has somehow found itself raised above Gaaki, knocking aside the stone slab caught against his arm.

Where's Norik?

Both Hordika and Rahaga stand side by side, that quietness disturbed only by the skittering of stone shards settling. There is wrongness in his breath, his head, and it's impossible to separate where the temple's ends and his begins. But any moment now, Norik will reappear from the wreckage, bearing that ever-same holier-than-thou look, and the anger will rise anew in Vakama.

Any.

Moment.

Now.

"You've killed him," Gaaki says, and her voice breaks that terrible stillness. She draws in a half-breath that cracks into a sob. "You've... oh, Norik..."

No.

No, it was an accident. He hadn't meant to– Norik had simply been in the wrong place. It wasn't as if he'd taken a blazer claw to Norik, or hit him directly with a fire spinner. He'd only meant to... what? What had he only meant to do?

Something swings towards him and he grabs the staff before he even registers what it is.

"He's not dead," Vakama says, and maybe if he says it, he might even believe it. He snaps his gaze to Gaaki, as if her grief is bringing it to pass. "He's not. He's not as easy to kill as that. When the others– when the Toa find him, he'll be fine. Fools like him always find a way to survive."

Gaaki attempts to pull her staff free, but her strength is no match for Vakama's. He wretches it out of her grasp and tosses it aside.

"Stop that."

She doesn't listen to him, only steps back and charges up her rhotuka. The grief in her eyes fogs into hatred.

The water spinner hits him but does little more than rock him.

"Stop."

Gaaki screams, a sound of rage and anguish, and releases a volley of spinners as ineffectual as the first.

Vakama's patience – or whatever had held him in place until now – snaps. He lunges forward. His claws close around the joints of Gaaki's rhotuka and pins the mechanisms harmlessly into place, in the same manner one might pick up a baby ussal crab by the widest edge of its shell. She thrashes, but Vakama's grip holds.

"I said, stop," he snarls.

She's breathing hard, her gasps sharp-edged with agony. "You killed him," she says, voice hoarse and hateful.

His insides twist, and – Gaaki hauled by his side – he starts the ascent to where the rest of the Rahaga are trapped. He doesn't look back to the rubble. Doesn't glance for one last glimpse of Norik's resting place.

He's not dead. He's not dead he's not dead he's not

The wrongness, the hatred, has woven so deep into him, it's almost a part of him now.

Toa don't kill. Vakama can't remember who taught him that (he recalls, briefly, the flash of a gold mask, but it comes with pain – grief – and he pushes it aside before it can take root) but it gnaws at him like a trapped stone rat. Toa don't kill.

But he was never meant to be one.

And if the Great Temple – if Mata Nui – thinks a mistake was made in Vakama's destiny....

Well. That's somebody else's problem.

The Hordika that returns to Roodaka is different from the one she sent out. There's something new in his eyes... or perhaps something lost.

"How was the temple, Vakama?" she asks when it's just the two of them.

He looks to her. Beneath the anger, beneath the rahi, there's almost a haunted look to those eyes. It vanishes a moment later, but Roodaka never doubts her own eyes.

"Unwelcoming," he replies, and Roodaka smiles. She could have suggested Vakama pick the Rahaga off one by one in the chaos of Metru Nui, outside where her Visorak could have been an aid... but the temple had been too good an opportunity to miss.

"Good." She sets a hand on his shoulder. "You owe no loyalty to Mata Nui, Vakama. Not anymore."

He rolls his shoulder, but not sharp enough to dislodge Roodaka's hand.

"One thing I do not understand," she says. "What happened to the sixth Rahaga?"

The Toa growls. It is a gutteral sound, rooted deep in the chest and at home in a way it wasn't before. "You wanted a message left for the other Toa. I needed a messenger."

"Alive?"

Vakama shrugs his shoulder again, and this time she lets him roll her hand loose. "Does it matter, so long as they understand?" he growls.

No, Roodaka concedes as she surveys the remains of the Toa before her. She supposes not.

#bionicle #cat writes #lego bionicle #do i have a weakness for the hordika arc? you'll never know #(yes. look i was a well behaved 12year old kid who loved plots about characters going feral. i ate the hordika plotline up)#(and two decades later or there abouts i still have nostalgic fondness for it)#heya so how do we feel about vakama returning to the temple and finding it is repulsed by him?#a discovery that might not only confirm he wasnt chosen by mata nui but has been forsaken #and yeah this was the fic i technically titled 'damned'#but also casually thought of it as 'god called to let you know he hates you personally'#because that's definitely a normal thing to name a fic #also yes i like the idea that roodaka pushed vakama to enter the temple knowing he would feel abandoned by mata nui #and thus helps sever the 'destiny' part of the three virtues #i like the idea that just like matau had to invoke the three virtues to get vakama back #roodaka worked on severing vakamas ties to the three virtues to get him to turn his back on the others #and while she succeeded with unity and destiny #duty she could only derail or corrupt rather than sever entirely #and that (esp since duty is vakamas whole shtick) is why matau reminding him of his duty finally worked #i'll probably add this and the stasis tube au to ao3 in time #but for now it goes here

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