#I mean I’ve also been using the mantra ‘I will get the job I want and I will be able to move with no issues’

[kakujis]

do you love me? 3;

synopsis: they wake you up at 3am and ask if you love them. 1 + 2 + 4

ft: hanma, ran, and rindou.

warnings: gn!reader, insecurities, clingy bfs, jealous!rindou, swearing, mentions of drinking, not proofread, reader is a lil mean in hanma's ): and thaat should be it!

a/n: is it me or are these getting longer?! anyways, here's part 3! the last one will be mitsuya, draken, and chifuyu! i’m running out of steam thinkin’ of scenarios uh oh. anyway, writing ran's bit was so much fun, since i feel like he's a goofy loverboy. i kind of struggled w rindou’s but i hope it still falls together nicely! ALSO WHY IS HIS SO LONG WTF and here's a special lil tag for @fuyuluvr ♡

the city is quiet as the hum of a motorcycle comes to a stop. hanma’s not sure how he ended up here, well actually he is, subconsciously driving straight to the one place that always riles him up, setting his veins on fire faster than the rush of a zipline. 

he hums to himself, taking off his helmet, and nudging down his kick stand. he looks upwards, toward your bedroom window, his heart already starting to flutter in his chest. stuffing his hands into his jacket, he walks up, getting ready to scale up towards your window. he glances around, although no one’s around in this dead of night, he would rather not have anyone calling the cops on him. 

they’re probably asleep, he thinks, as he peers back up, nails digging into the stone as he uses his leg to boost himself up. he hoists himself until he’s up to the sil, laughing a little to himself when he notices you left it open like you were expecting him. 

he tumbles in, knocking over your lamp in the process. “oops.” he says. meanwhile, the crash has you bolting awake, screaming, no, screeching as you grab your alarm clock, holding it up, ready to throw or swing. 

he throws his hands up defensively as he approaches, “it’s me!” and in your sleep deprived state you scramble back, the grip on your device tightening. 

hanma barks out a laugh, before he switches on your bedside lamp. “hi baby. ♡” he chirps, seeing your shoulders slump as you settle, a particularly loud sigh escaping you as you place one hand over your chest. he kicks his shoes off as he jumps onto your bed, diving straight into your comforter, laying on his stomach. 

“you scared the shit out of me!” you yell, “besides, what time is it?” you look at the device in your hand before you realize it’s off, ripped straight out the socket. frowning, you toss it onto the floor, before crossing your arms and facing him. 

“you were really gonna fuck me up, huh?” he muses, honey eyes twinkling at the idea of you actually swinging on him. he would’ve dodged of course, but it would’ve given him an excuse to grab you and have you underneath him. 

you sigh again, “shuji, i don’t have time for this. i’ve got a work meeting tomorrow morning.” you grab your blankets, shimmying underneath them and pulling them up, “we can hang out this weekend or something,” you yawn. 

“eh?” is all you hear as you turn over, shutting your eyes in hopes of getting some sleep. maybe he’d fall asleep with you or maybe he’d leave, but the only thing that’s really on your mind is this stupid meeting. just a few more days until the weekend, has been your new mantra, if you can just tough it out, you’ll be golden. 

it’s quiet for a few minutes, but the dip in your bed is still there and soon enough he’s asking, “do you love me?”

“no, shuji, of course i don’t…” you start, sarcasm tinting your voice as you roll back over, but you stop when you see his defeated expression. it’s different from the shuji you know, his solemn eyes studying you, as he nervously plays with your sheets in one hand. 

hanma shuji has been so damn bored. it’s been like this ever since you got a job, constant “i can’t”s, and “maybe next time, shu.” he wants so badly to go on late night rides with you again, the sound of your laughter ripping over the roar of his motorcycle.

he wants to stay up with you until sunrise, at the top of your favorite hill, hands intertwined and shoulders brushing. he wants to snap pictures of you at the top of this hill, thinking you're prettier than any sunrise. you make him feel like he’s invincible and that everything’s okay.  

shuji has been so bored, but more so than that, he’s been lonely, unsteady. he misses you so fucking much, nothing’s as fun without you, everything’s dull like the world’s covered in sepia. 

“c’mere,” you say, opening your arms and he crawls forward, collapsing into you. “i love you, shuji, i do.. and i’m sorry.” 

you realize now how distant you’ve been. unbeknownst to the two of you, just how stressful a new job could be, you were just trying to jumble a new set schedule but you had been snappier, neglectful, and even downright mean at times.

shuji tried his best to accomodate you, going off on night rides by himself, always saying, “it’s alright.” when you’d turn him down again. he tried to busy himself more with his friends, but his mind always wandered to what you’d be doing - did you miss him too? - checking his texts every now and then in hopes there’d be a new message. 

“shuji?” you whisper when he doesn’t respond and you think he has every right to be upset with you. but instead he says, “yeah?” his face suddenly dangerously close to yours, the tip of his nose lingers by yours and your face heats up at the proximity. 

“um,” you stutter and soon there’s a smirk dancing on his face, “d-did you hear me?” 

“i heard you. loud and clear, ♡” he says, lips ghosting over yours, “i was just replayin’ it in my head.” 

shuji always has you melting and tonight is no different, so you close your eyes and let him kiss you. deep, sweet, and full of all the things the two of you don’t know how to say. you pout when he pulls away and he grins, “so cute.” 

an idea strikes you then as you gaze at the love of your life. “hey… wanna go for a ride?” besides, what's the harm in losing a little sleep?

the way he perks up has you giggling, you’re sure if he had a tail it’d be wagging a mile a minute. he’s practically beaming, as he starts to pull you up and off the bed. he stops for a second, head tilted and finger on his chin, “wait, don’t you have a meeting at in a couple hours?” 

you nod, “yeah, so bring me home by 5?” you smile at him as you reach for a jacket.

“i can do that.” 

ran:

for the first time in his life, ran haitani cannot fall asleep. he lays there, one arm resting above his head, the only noise being the sound of your soft snores as his mind continues to wander. he thinks about the dinner you two had earlier.  it was dumb, the entire situation, your friends were clearly too drunk to be saying reasonable things. ran knew this, he’s been the same way countless times before.

but when she hiccuped, arm slung around you, “maann, can’t believe you ended up with ran! you used to only talk about rindou in high school ehe.” ran felt his stomach drop. 

you froze at that, quickly glancing at ran whose face was otherwise unreadable. she continued, incessantly giggling, “seriously seriously! everyday was ‘man rindou looked sooo cu’-“

“thats enough!” you had said, placing a palm over her mouth to muffle her. “lets get you home, okay?” desperately glancing at the rest of your friends, who took the hint and helped her out of there. 

ran remembered how after everyone left, you had tried to talk to him, “listen..” your hand reaching towards his. 

but for some reason, he had stopped you. “it’s fine, people say dumb shit when they’re drunk,” he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “don’t worry about it.” 

and maybe the reason was that he was scared, scared to hear you admit that yeah, you did like his brother. and when that didn’t work out, you settled on him. 

he shakes his head, getting up from the bed and padding over to the bathroom. turning the faucet, he douses cold water on his face. don’t be stupid, ran. 

when he walks out, he stops when he sees you sitting up, sleepily rubbing your eyes. “ran?” you mumble, “are you okay?” 

he settles back into an easy grin, walking over and climbing back in. “yeah, i’m alright.” 

“liar.” 

he blinks. “what’d you just say?”

“i said, you’re a liar.” you huff, placing your hands on his cheeks, swiveling his head towards yours. “you’re upset.” 

“and why do you think that?” he says, but there’s a red tint dusting on his cheeks, and his eyes flicker from you to various objects around the room. 

“first of all, you’re awake,” you emphasize, “when is ran ‘if i don't get enough sleep i’ll kill you and your family’ haitani awake at 3am? hm?” you dart your head every time he tries to look away trying to stay in his vision. 

he sighs, “okay, you got me.” he stills, looking at you with a crease in his brow. “do you love me? and.. was what your friend said right? that you used to like my brother?” 

you soften at his question, “of course i do. i love you and only you. let me explain?” 

he nods and you drop your hands, opting to intertwine them with his. sighing, you begin, “okay so, in high school there was this… friend- okay no i hated that bitch-“ 

you give ran a look as he whistles, caught off guard by your vitriol, as he motions you to continue on with a little grin, “don’t mind me.” 

“there was this acquaintance,” you continue and ran nods, “and every single guy i was into she would try to take them from me, so i pretended to like rindou because.. i was scared.. she would actually get together with you.” 

its your turn to burn with embarrassment, looking down at your interlocked hands as you reveal the secret you kept for so long. you glance up at ran and groan out a “what?!” when you notice his shit-eating grin. 

“i’m really a catch, eh?” he teases and you scrunch your nose. “don’t make that face,” he points, “you’re the one who tried to gatekeep me.” 

“ugh fine,” you pout, your face on fire,  “this is so embarrassing… ah!” ran pulls you down, hugging you tightly. “ran?” 

“man, i feel like a million bucks! who would’ve thought the person i’d been chasin’ all throughout highschool felt the same way. i should’ve asked you out sooner.” he pinches your cheek, cooing, “my baby.” 

you can’t even focus on the fact that he casually mentioned the two of you were mutual crushing for so long. if you could die from embarrassment you would. on the flipside, if ran could die from love, he would. he’s never admitted it before, but he’s always felt a little insecure, so he hides it behind a mask that only you get to uncover. 

“did i ever meet her?” he asks, face to face with you. he can’t stop smiling, instead continuing to poke your cheek as you pout. 

“hmm, maybe. i dunno, i tried to avoid her a lot of the time.” you answer, “why?” 

“cause if i did, you wouldn’t even have to worry about it.” he says, running the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “i’ve only had eyes for you after all.” 

was he always this cheesy? seriously, you might die. “i’m gonna die,” you profess, your face and body on fire, moving your hands up to hide your expression behind them. “if you continue, i’ll seriously die.” 

“dying in my arms is super romantic though.” he muses, “i bet it’d be a dream come true for you.” 

“shut up!” you groan, burying your face into the pillow. 

“babe, seriously, it’s a dream of mine. romeo and juliet, who?” 

“ran haitani, shut up!”

rindou: 

rindou haitani was seething. on the outside, he had it all. a club that he owned with his brother, able to play his music to an excited crowd, and to top it all off, a loving partner who did their best to support him. but on the inside, he was someone who hid from his emotions, snuffing them out before they had their chance to reach the surface and maybe that’s why, in rare moments, when he couldn’t snuff them out he waited until you fell asleep to think about them. 

maybe it was his fault for inviting you out, but it’s always been a dream of his to watch you dance to his music. at first you refused, something about how crowds aren’t really your thing. but he persisted, noting how you always dance for him when he plays his music so why not do it at his club? 

“besides, you always get along with everyone you meet, just try it.” he insisted, beaming when you said “okay, just this once.” 

he wasn’t usually jealous, something he prided himself on, that you could hang out with whoever you wanted whenever you wanted and he’d have no issue. but tonight things were different. you looked amazing under the neon, pulsing lights, feeling the beat down to your bones as you swayed and moved on the dance floor. 

ran was supposed to stay close to you, but the two of you got separated by the mass of bodies. from his view up top though, rindou could see you clearly, and when someone came up to you to dance, he was sure you would deny them. but perhaps it was the slight buzz of alcohol running through your veins or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through you that caused you to say yes. 

you didn’t grind on them, thankfully, but still, the way you laughed and cheered, eyes fully on them was like a kick to rindou’s gut. at one point, they leaned in to say something to you and rindou almost stopped his set, wanting to take you home immediately. but instead, he grit his teeth and kept playing. 

he didn’t have the heart to tell you anything on the way home either, the way you excitedly bounced up and down detailing to him about how much fun you had and how you’d love to go again. he shut those emotions down again, instead laying a hand over yours, smiling and saying, “i’m glad you had fun, love.” 

but now as he lay there in your shared bed, one arm around you as you slept on his chest, he was steaming. he has a continuous fight with himself in his head over it, how he isn’t the type to dance anyway, so it’s fine if you have fun dancing with someone else. but also, have you ever had that much fun with him before? like you did tonight with some stranger? he’s so pissed off he can’t remember, especially when he thinks about how close they were to his baby. 

when rindou is lost in his head, he never notices the things he does outwardly to keep himself calm. like the tapping on your arm or the shake of his leg, but you do, rousing out of sleep, peeking one eye up at him. 

“rinnie?” you croak, voice hoarse from the amount of shouting and laughing you did tonight. “you okay?” 

he looks down at you, unable to control the frustration clearly etched across his face. “i’m fine. go back to sleep.” 

“no.” you say, even in your half-asleep state you can tell that something’s up, “what’s wrong.” 

“nothing.” he huffs, trying his best to not let his emotions get the best of him. but if there’s one thing rindou hates, it’s talking about his feelings.

you pause, trying to think your words over carefully. “did i do something wrong?” he doesn’t respond, and you mull it over again, when an answer comes to you. “oh… i won’t go to the club anymore, if that’s what you want, i bet i looked pretty lame dancing out there-“

“no!” he interrupts, “no… you looked amazing…besides, i love watching you dance.” 

“then what is it, rindou? i can’t read your mind, y’know?” you remind him and his face softens. 

“i know…” he replies, and you wait for him to continue. that’s something that he’s grateful for, that when he does talk, you never rush him, letting him go at his own pace. “it’s just… did you have to dance with that guy tonight?” he mumbles, voice trailing off so that it’s barely audible. 

“hm? i didn’t hear you, did i have to..?” you ask,  tilting your head. 

“did you have to dance with that stupid dude tonight?!” he nearly yells, rushing out his words and you blink, a little taken aback. 

“oh…” you realize, he’s jealous. you realize now that from where he was looking it probably did look bad, his partner, dancing and laughing it up with a stranger. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know that bothered you so much…” 

for some reason, that sets rindou off and he scoffs, pissed off once again. of course he’d be annoyed, of course he’d be jealous. you’re his partner. “do you love me?” 

his question comes out more like an accusation and you hate it because it stings. in turn you say, “i do. do you trust me?” 

he wants to bite back, but when he looks at you, he can’t. you look so hurt, he sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand, “… sorry. i do trust you. i’m bad at this.” 

“i know,” you say and he glances at you, surprised, which makes you smile. “you’re awful at telling me how you feel, so you act all cool and tough instead.” 

“aren’t you mad at me?” he asks, your sudden smile catching him off guard. 

“hmm… not really mad, just a little hurt is all.” you say, because even though he was the one who told you that you get along with everyone you meet, you know rindou inside and out, culminating from the many years the two of you have shared together. 

rindou doesn’t want to seem controlling, but because of that he neglects to establish his boundaries, too focused on how comfortable you feel. it’s his own weird way of control, if he doesn’t push you, let’s you do your thing, then you’ll stay. you won’t leave him like he’s scared you’ll do if he ever says no.

he apologizes again, his frustration turning to shame. you're so patient, even when he snaps at you or can't find the words. but you shake your head, “thanks for telling me. let me know what bothers you, please?” 

“i’ll try,” he mumbles, glancing away, and you know that means that next time he probably won’t. he’ll most likely bury those feelings deep inside until you catch wind, but it’s the fact that he’ll at least try that makes you happy. it’s okay, you’ll always be there when he needs it. 

you settle back into your original position, closing your eyes and within a few minutes, you’re dozing off asleep. 

tonight really did a number on you, he thinks, while playing with your hair, maybe i should be more honest with you… i love you. 

but there's a few things that rindou doesn’t realize. like how he’s talking out loud, or that you’re still just barely awake, his “i love you,” warming you up like the morning sun. as much as you wanna mention it when you wake up, you also don’t wanna embarrass him. for now, you’ll keep this a secret.♡

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma shuji x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #hanma shuji #ran haitani #rindou haitani #pibby writing #RANS WAS MY FAVORITE JSYK !!!!

[sylvies-chen]

okay I’ve refrained from posting my thoughts on the ted lasso finale until now in the interest of making sure they’re expressed properly so that people understand how correct my opinions actually are. but I’m here and I’m queer and LET’S DO IT FOLKS:

TED LASSO FINALE THOUGHTS

THE GOOD:

Nate!! Nate was a timid, sweet note in this episode. It was such a gentle little reintegration of his character back into the team and seeing him get a secure happy ending after all that time of insecurity was the part of the episode that provided the MOST payoff. Seeing Nick Mohammed’s post about Nate and his family life and understanding how much he put into that character was so beautiful to see too. I adore actors who very publicly (and in a nerdy way) love their craft!

His conversation with Ted also made me cry like I have never cried before.

COLIN KISSED HIS FELLA AFTER A WIN!! Ugh such a beautiful payoff and full circle moment for him, I was truly squealing with joy <3

The team’s rendition of So Long, Farewell had me GIGGLINGGG oh my god, I’m a die hard Sound of Music fan so I loved it! I would have maybe liked a little more emotion from Ted, I felt like his reaction was kind of… meh? meek? but other than that the song itself was FANTASTIC.

Obviously I love that they won the game, duh

They also had a lot of really amazing and thoughtful callbacks in this episode, like Keeley’s parallel to her entrance in the pilot was great, Ted’s bbq sauce mantra, Nate leaping into Ted’s arms, the ussie guy, the winning play being the play from season 1. All of those little moments showed a strong attention to detail I truly loved.

I love that Rupert made HIMSELF unlikeable in the end. Rebecca didn’t need to ruin his life; she stopped caring and soon saw he was doing a perfectly fine job of doing it himself. Karma truly is Rebecca Welton’s boyfriend!! Or is it?

Jake the motherfucking client seducer over here turning out to be a total dud like yesss!! I don’t want Ted and Michele back together by any means but fuck that guy lol, glad to see she and Henry were getting sick of him

BELIEVE. 😭

Which leads me to…

THE BAD:

I know you all know I ship Tedbecca, but this is truly not coming from a shipper standpoint when I say that that first scene of them was absolute BAIT. It was pretty disappointing because I know Ted Lasso’s been prone to red herrings and fakeouts every now and then but I didn’t take it as a show that would truly bait their fans with something like that??

I don’t care if I’m biased, I don’t care if the writers were trying to be avant-garde with their ending for rebecca, I’ll say what I’m about to say a million times: writing off 1 of your 2 most main characters into a happy ending with a man whose name the audience doesn’t even know is literally never a good writing decision. I think this should be obvious.

I have no hate to Boat Guy, Rebecca’s whole thing with him was basically the plot of Before Sunrise + Before Sunset (all hail Richard Lanklater) if someone watched those movies and then tried condensing them into fifteen accumulated minutes of television

Keeley, Roy, Jamie… they did you three so fucking dirty my babes. Keeley you especially. I’m beyond disappointed, bordering on genuinely hurt, by how much they screwed up Keeley and all of her adjacent storylines this season.

I loved RoyKeeley so much in seasons 1 and 2, they had such a sweetness and a magic to them. There were so many elements like that to season 1 and 2 that I feel the writers gave up on in the name of growth or… honestly, at this point, I don’t know why they did this. Roy was a little insecure in seasons 1 and 2, but I never felt like he was needy. It felt so cruel to have shown us RoyKeeley in all of these moments of such stability, such healthiness, and such genuine love for so long and then rip it away for some version of Roy Kent that felt hollow, twisted, and who just Did Not Get It. It makes me so sad.

It makes me sad for Jamie too. Him falling for Keeley again was like the last thing I needed to see from his character. There’s so much else they could have done with him, and instead they took that beautiful moment of him being accountable and respectful with Keeley and the tape, and they turned it into something ugly: they had him weaponize it as a bargaining chip against Roy.

I don’t understand why they thought having our favs engaged in this very sexist outdated convo with such possessive language in the name of comedy was a good idea. I get it was poking fun at them but it was the kind of fun that shouldn’t have to be poked at by now. They’re not these men, I don’t recognize this version of them. It’s such a regression.

speaking of weird and uncomfortable shit being played off for laughs… beard and jane got married! ted wasn’t even there! she shredded his passport to keep him in captivity! how creepy! (see the joke is that they’re crazy and do toxic things to each other. you’re supposed to laugh.)

#ted lasso #abby meta #roykeeley #roy kent #jamie tartt #keeley jones #tedbecca #rebecca welton

[whatiswritteninthestars]

My take on what’s been going on with the fandom regarding Melissa McBride. This will get me blocks I’m sure but you have to be careful who you trust. Listen to people but don’t think they are god. Even actors and showrunners have been known to embellish the truth. I do not believe for a second Melissa is being overrun and underminded. She already left the spinoff once and a lot was put in to getting her back on board. That’s not something AMC or Norman/Scott is going to jeopardize again. A lot of talk is going around about a pro Caryl showrunner and rumors of how the men are trying to block that from happening. For one if AMC wanted them they’ll sign them. They have the power over Scott. Another thing is they are not going to refuse to hire someone over their taste in ships. These are professional people who have done this job before.

Keep in mind about who you are getting the information from. If they use the line “you don’t have to believe me” chances are they aren’t being forthcoming. If they become aggressive when you don’t believe them chances are they aren’t being honest. This seems more about a fandom power play then it does as warning to Carylers to make a movement to AMC.

I’ve seen so much division in the Caryl fandom throughout several platforms. And it’s to much competition that often times makes it unbearable. There’s a few “leaders” who are constantly at odds with each other and fight for their place at fandom Queen. It’s childish and mean girl behavior.

FYI a true leader is someone who uplifts everyone regardless of how they feel about you. Not a dictatorship which some of you are guilty of. I’ve seen you guys shut down people and try to push them out of the fandom for having the same opinion earlier that you have now. So maybe think on that before you judge next time. None of us are ever 100 percent right all the time.

Some of you really need to let that high school mantra go. I don’t believe the ones being the loudest have any true connection to higher ups at AMC or the DD/BOC show. And I don’t believe Melissa is being strongholded. She is an EP and has a say in Carol’s story. AMC official accounts are using the Caryl hashtag. There’s a lot to look forward to. She’s been a part of the show from day one giving input and helping on and off screen even before she was an EP. Melissa was a huge part of season one even without the title. Actors have always raved about how she’s made them better and the same holds true with this show. So you all need to relax. Melissa is valued.

I can tell you this with certainty the one claiming to have this insider information is the same person who would dm a wide range of accounts that seemed to have information and beg them for whatever information they could. And when she got information she refused to share any. Which is what they are doing now. Talking about a female show runner but will not name names. Put your money where your mouth is if you think you have accurate information. And I will tell you this stalking and dming crew members or production members for a tid bit of information is not a source. It’s borderline harassment. You know who you are.

Now in closing this person also claimed that if Carylers were loud enough to AMC that the spinoff would not happen. Yes they were going to waste all that money or sets and contracts. Melissa was also already there when they were trying to make this movement lol. Stop acting like they are the Buddha to the Caryl fandom like you have no common sense and can’t function without them. There are many strong Caryl fans who don’t spread misery on a daily basis you can talk to. To calm your fears or just to talk about happier things to look forward to. These so called leaders seek out emotional people that they can control who are looking for guidance. This was once the greatest fandom in the land and could be again if we would break ties with the ones holding us down. So just think about that before being sucked down with the rest. Great things are coming. I promise you that.

#caryl #caryl is endgame #daryl dixon #twd caryl #caryl positivity #norman reedus #melissa mcbride #carol peletier

[albertasunrise]

Blind Truths - Part 2

Masterlist

Summary: Up until now, you and Javi had a purely professional relationship. You work together and that is that. But, when Javi has an accident in the field, you’re forced to spend more time with him and truths are revealed.

Warnings: Like AO3, I chose to give none. This fic is not suitable for under 18’s... As promised! Here is part ✌🏼

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

Part 1

You waited for what felt like days but in reality, was probably only a few hours for word on Javier. Steve’s knee bounced nervously as he wrung his hands in his lap and a part of you wanted to tell him to stop but the other understood.

Javier’s seizure could mean a multitude of things. You knew that TBIs could trigger Epilepsy and if that’s what was going on here, Javier would be sent home for sure. You also knew it could be completely random. But your brain still sifted through all the potential worst-case scenarios that could come out of this.

As a child, there had been a boy in your class who’d suffered from epilepsy. One day at recess, you’d been playing ball with him when his whole body had gone rigid, his eyes had rolled back into his skull and his body had hit the floor like a sack of rocks. His seizure had been a lot more dramatic than Javi’s. He had suffered what you’d later learned was called a Grand mal Seizure. He had hit his head, fallen into a coma and never woken up. That's what had driven you to want to be a nurse. Only when tragedy struck in your ER one fateful evening, a young man no older than 30 suffering consecutive seizures due to a cocaine overdose, you’d realised that you weren’t cut out to be a nurse. But you could still make a difference.

Fast forward a year and you’d secured the role you were in now. But, once again, you were starting to question this job also as you waited on news of Javier. Another hour passed before the doctor emerged, his expression, impossible to read. You and Steve went to stand but his raised hand stopped you both so you sank back into your chair.

"How is he?" You asked your voice small that Steve almost missed it.

"We've done some tests." The doctor replied, surprising you with his English "We are confident the seizure was random, his results do not indicate epilepsy."

You and Steve both let out a consecutive sigh of relief. You shared a look with Steve before returning your attention to the doctor standing across from you.

"We want to keep him in for observation. He hit his head and with his current condition, we want to keep an eye on him." You both nodded, giving the doctor a weak smile.

"Can we see him?" Steve asked and the doctor nodded, motioning with his head for you both to follow him.

You were led to a small, dimly lit, room. Javier was dosing in the bed that sat opposite the door, his head lolled to one side. You took a shaky breath before walking up to him and stopping beside him, taking in how peaceful he looked. The sound of the door closing behind Steve made the agent stir and he cracked his eyes open. You held your breath, waiting for him to say something and secretly hoping that he could see you.

"Who's there?" He asked and your shoulders sank.

"It's us, partner." Steve replied as he spoke your name to Javi "How are you feeling?"

"Weak." Javier replied, "Feel like I've gone ten rounds with my Pop’s prized bull."

"That's normal." You replied as you gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly as his blind eyes sought you out, your name falling from his lips like a mantra “I’ve been an ass… please for-"

“Let’s focus on getting you better Javi.” You interrupted “Apologies can come later.”

He gave you a weak nod and a small smile as he gave your hand a small squeeze in thanks. He was exhausted and just the short conversation had sapped any energy he had left.

“Sleep.” You said softly “We’ll be here when you wake up.” You assured him and he didn’t need to be told twice, he was asleep in seconds.

…

Two days later, Javier was settled back at home again. He’d been less miserable since getting back. He was softer with you. Thanking you for everything you did for him and smiling every chance he got. Taking care of him became less of a chore and more of a bonding exercise for the two of you. You started to spend more time together in the evenings, getting to know each other on a more intimate level. Well more intimate for Javier at least.

"So how come you're single?" He asked as you cleared away the plates from dinner.

"Don't get much of a chance to date." You answered simply.

"Don't get much of a chance to or choose not to?" He pushed and you sighed "Come on, I may be blind but I don't need my sight to read people."

"I was in a serious relationship before I moved here." You started, trying your hardest to keep your tears at bay.

"What happened?" He asked and you let out a shuddering breath before answering.

"I was working the graveyard shift in the ER back home. Was a pretty average Friday night, your usual customers. Broken bones from bar fights or just simply drinking too much." You paused a moment to compose yourself before continuing "I was about an hour out of going home when a thirty-year-old male was emitted. Cocaine overdose."

You placed the last of the dishes you'd washed on the drying wrack before you grabbed your glass of wine and turned to face Javier. His brows were drawn and his eyes were looking to where you assumed he thought you were standing.

"He suffered 3 consecutive grand mal seizures before he coded. Each one worse than the last." You paused a moment to take a large gulp of your wine, your eyes then locking on Javier's "He was my fiancé."

"Shit..." Javier trailed off, his expression morphing into one of pity and you hated it.

"He'd gone to the local sports bar with his buddies to watch some fight. They'd all gone a bit mad, mucked about with some drugs one of them had decided to buy on a whim." You piped up after a few tense moments of silence. "He'd taken just a little too much and it killed him." You sobbed "Tis' why I quit and joined the DEA. Wasn't cut out for watching people die but still wanted to make a difference."

"Understandable." Javier replied and you let out a wet chuckle "I'm sorry Hermosa. I know you probably hear that a lot but I am... truly."

"Yeah well..." You shrugged, downing the last of your wine before pouring some more "What's your story?"

"My story?" He asked and you nodded.

"You strike me as a man that came here to get away from something." You elaborated "Or someone."

"Could say that." Javier chuckled as he blindly brought his beer to his lips "Before I came here I was engaged too." He confessed and you found yourself surprised by his confession.

"What happened?"

"Left her at the alter." He replied simply and your eyes widened.

"That's it?" You pushed and he shrugged.

"That's it." He confirmed but you weren't buying it, you could tell there was more.

"Javi... You may be an asshole." Javier snorted at that "But I don't believe you left a woman at the alter just because you'd had a change of heart."

"Hermosa I-"

"I told you my story of woe... Your turn." You pushed and he sighed.

"Fine." He grumbled before taking another sip of his drink "Lorraine and I were off and on for years. Since high school." He started, his head shifting when he heard you sit down beside him "The last time we got back together, I thought... this is it, we're either going to stay together or we'd be over for good. I tried, tried to make it work but I think we both knew that we just weren't right for each other but she didn't want to accept it."

You watched him thoughtfully as a myriad of emotions crossed his face. You wondered if due to his blindness, he was unaware of how easily you could read each one of them as they graced his face. Sadness, relief, and guilt to name a few.

"Then she told me she was pregnant." That gave you pause.

Was he a father?

Had he abandoned not only his wife-to-be but his child?

"I was so ready to be a dad." He said with a smile and your stomach twisted as the pieces started to come together "Had names picked out and everything but then the night before the wedding, she confessed that she'd faked it..."

Your heart broke.

"She told me that we could start trying straight away though. That just because she wasn't pregnant now, didn't mean she wouldn't be soon but I just couldn't." He paused to take a shaky breath and scrape his free hand over his mouth "The morning of the wedding I got dressed, met with my groomsmen and I headed to the church. I had every intention of going but just as we arrived I drove past it. I couldn't marry someone who'd lied to me."

"Shit..." You breathed and he chuckled "Guess we're both a bit of a mess."

Javier chortled at that, giving you a dashing smile that made you swoon.

"Guess we are."

That evening you helped Javier to bed as you always did. Dressed him in his sweats and t-shirt, immobilised his shoulder and helped him to the bathroom before you bid him goodnight. As you settled into your own bed that night, you found yourself dwelling on what had been shared that evening. You had told him something that no one else knew about you. Sure they knew you'd been a nurse and quit but you had never told them why and you couldn't help but think about why you'd shared with him. You had become close since his last Hospital visit. He'd confessed to you that he had overheard your conversation with Steve and you supposed that's part of the reason he'd been nicer to you but it felt like there was something more going on.

You finally drifted off to sleep a little under an hour later. The sound of the rain pattering on your window helping lull you off. It was a little after 2 when you were woken. You had wondered if you'd been hearing things at first. Sitting in your bed listening to the traffic and rain outside for a few minutes but then you heard it again. You climbed out of bed and slipped out of your room, stopping at Javier's door to listen for a moment. You could hear him tossing and turning in his sleep, whimpering, and it broke your heart.

Pushing the door open gently, you stepped gingerly to his bedside and perched yourself on the edge. His face glistened with a sheen of sweat and his brow pulled together in obvious discomfort, head tossing from side to side as the dream tormented him.

"Javi?" You called out gently as you placed a friendly hand on his uninjured arm "Javi wake up."

He didn't. He just continued to toss and turn but as his cries grew worse you knew you had to use more force.

"Javi!" You said with more force as you shook him "Javi... come on wake up. Please." You pleaded and your pleas were answered.

The agent woke with a start, his eyes searching wildly in the dark as his hand grabbed hold of your hand.

"Easy Javi... You're okay." You said soothingly as you rubbed his arm with your free hand "You're safe. Was just a nightmare."

"Stay with me." He begged, his voice so small and the thought of telling him, no, didn't even cross your mind.

You slipped into the covers beside him and allowed him to pull you close, smiling as he buried his face in your neck.

"Thank you." He whispered before he took a deep, shaky breath and then you felt him relax behind you.

Drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

...

A car horn going off was what rudely woke you from some of the best sleep that you'd had in a long time. You groaned as you wriggled a little, stopping dead when you felt something hard pressing against your ass. Your cheeks burned as you tried to move away without waking him but Javier just pulled your closer, humming against your shoulder as he settled again.

"Morning." He mumbled as he placed a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

Your grin spread from ear to ear as you just let his embrace warm you to your bones. You knew as soon as he started to wake up fully, he would realise what he was doing and pull away.

Only he didn't.

"How did you sleep?" He asked as he allowed for you to roll and face him.

"Really well.," You replied, smiling sweetly at him as you watched his eyes start to flutter open.

"Ahhh!" He cried suddenly, his hand coming up to cover his eyes.

"What Javi?" You asked, your tone panicked as you sat up and cupped his face in your hands "What's wrong."

"It's so bright." He sobbed and your stomach twisted "Please... it's too bright."

You were quick to close the curtains, blanketing his room in almost complete darkness.

"Okay Javi, try opening your eyes again." You said softly, watching as he nervously opened them again.

The agent opened his eyes slowly, fearing the pain that he'd experienced a few moments ago. What greeted him instead was your face smiling back at him.

"Hi." He said softly as he reached out to cup your cheek "I can see you." He choked and your smile broadened "I can see you."

He sobbed then. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he laced his fingers through the hair at the base of your neck and pulled your face towards him. Your heart raced as you allowed him to guide you so your brow rested against his. You both remained there a short while, just soaking the moment in before he pulled back and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"Thank you." He whispered and you grinned at him as you leaned in to kiss him again.

"JAVI!" Came Steve's voice as he pounded at the agent's front door, your name following suit "Come on, OPEN UP."

"I'm gonna kill him." Javier uttered, groaning when you pecked his lips before standing up.

Making your way to the front door, you were sure to fix Steve with a glare as you opened it and the agent shrunk back a moment before making his way inside.

"Where's Peña?" He asked you as his eyes scanned the room "Still asleep?"

"What are you doing here Steve?"

"We have a meeting with Messina." He stated and your brows pulled together "She wanted to check in with him."

"Right well, I think you're going to need to rearrange it." You stated and it was Steve's turn to look confused "His sight has returned but he's struggling with any sort of light."

"He can see?" Steve asked and you nodded, giving the agent a whistful smile "He in his room?"

"Yeah, but Steve-" You didn't get to finish your sentence. The agent was already out of the room and heading to Javier's, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Javier looked up in time to see Steve practically burst through his bedroom door, you hot on his heels.

"Hi, partner." Steve said as he stopped at the foot of Peña's bed "Can you see me?"

"Unfortunately." Javier grumbled and Steve chuckled at his reply.

"Well, I will go update Messina. You rest up."

"I've done nothing but rest." Javier grumbled and it was your turn to chuckle.

"Well, rest some more." Steve ordered before he turned to look at you "I'll be by later to see how he's getting on."

You showed Steve to the door and waved him off before making your way to the kitchen. Turning on the coffee machine, you started to pull the curtains and blinds before switching on the lamps. You then pulled out some mugs from the cupboard and poured coffee into both of them, then carried them into the lounge. Placing them on the coffee table you made your way to Javier's room just as he emerged from his ensuite.

"I've made the house a little dimmer for you." You started as you stood in the doorway "Closed the curtains and such... Wanna try a little more light?"

"Sure." He replied sweetly before following you to his lounge wincing a little as his eyes took a moment to adjust.

"You okay?" You asked and he looked at you and swooned.

Your face was full of concern for him. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He gave you a small nod before allowing you to steer him to the couch. As much as he could see, his peripheral vision still wasn't quite right. It was disorientating, to say the least, and he appreciated your help greatly.

"Here." You said sweetly as you handed him his coffee.

You then both sat in silence, the subject of the kiss you'd both shared this morning hanging over the two of you like an anvil ready to drop. Everything had felt so right until Steve Muphy had come along and thrown a bucket of ice water over the moment. You sipped on your coffee and watched Javier out of the corner of your eye, trying to figure out what was running through his mind.

"Did you want some breakfast?" You asked a short while later, unable to take the silence any longer.

Javier didn't verbally answer you. He didn't even look at you. He just gave a nod and went back to staring at the mug in his hands. Your shoulders dropped a little as you stood and made your way to the kitchen. Pulling out some avocados and the bread to make smashed avocado on toast. You occasionally glanced at Javier and noted that he hadn't moved. He still wasn't looking at you and your throat tightened. You tried desperately to blink back the tears that had started to form.

He'd been caught in the moment when he had kissed you and now he was sitting there regretting it. It was obvious.

Meanwhile, Javier was suffering his own internal dilemma. He had kissed you. He had worked so hard to fight these feelings he had for you but waking up holding you had felt so right and for the first thing, he'd clearly been able to see in weeks to be you. It had felt so right to kiss you. Like it had been the only thing that he could have done at that moment. Then Steve had come along and suddenly Javier didn't know how to be around you. Did you want him to kiss you? Did you even return his feelings? He stole looks when you were busy prepping food and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if this was the norm for him. Him wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Bending you over the table and-

He shook his head of that thought. He refused to let himself think of you that way until he knew how you felt. He would broach the subject with you when things settled down.

...

You let out a small sigh as you placed your bag down on your bed. A week had drifted by since Javier had regained his sight. He was now able to get around himself and did not need your help anymore. You weren't sure why you were so sad to leave. You'd known all along that this had only been a temporary thing but it didn't make it any easier.

You had hoped that Javier would broach the subject of the kiss but he hadn't. He had chosen instead to act as if it had never happened so you had gone along with that. It had hurt like hell but you supposed that it was better to pretend it never happened than face his rejection.

Little did you know that downstairs, Javier was trying to think of some sort of excuse to get you to come over again. He had spent most of the day cursing his cowardice. He had wanted to talk to you about the kiss. He'd wanted to confess his feelings but the longer he hadn't the harder it got to broach the subject. Then he'd been given all clear from the doctor and you left.

His apartment felt empty without your presence. In the three weeks that you'd stayed with him, you had filled every crack and crevice with your light. The room that had been yours seemed dulled now you no longer occupied its space and his heart felt heavier now you weren't there to hold it.

He was just starting to lose hope when he spotted your coat hanging next to the door. It wasn't much of a reason to get you to come back but it was something. He could work with something. So he hatched a plan. He just needed Steve's help to make it happen.

...

"I've never seen you this nervous before." Steve chuckled as he helped finish putting down the last of the cutlery.

"Shut up." Javier grumbled as kneaded his sore shoulder "Can't wait to take this damn thing off." He grumbled before his eyes travelled along to his arm that was wrapped in thick white plaster "And this for that matter. Itches like crazy."

"Yeah... been there brother." Steve lamented, giving his partner's shoulder a friendly squeeze "Right I better get out of here before she arrives." Steve stated as he glanced at the clock "Good luck."

Javier gave his friend a nod in thanks before Murphy stepped out his front door. He had told you to swing by at six. Using Steve coming by to catch him up as the reason why you couldn’t come sooner. The truth was that Steve had helped Javier grab takeout from your favourite hole-in-the-wall restaurant around the corner and set things up. Now all he had to do was wait. He had said to just use your key and to come straight in so as he leaned against the counter, beer in hand to help steady his nerves, he waited.

You arrived at six exactly.

...

"Hey Javi, sorry I left my coat here." You started as you unlocked the door and stepped inside "Completely forgot I'd even brought one seeing as I nev..." You trailed off when your eyes locked on Javier standing across from you, dressed in smart jeans and a nice shirt "What is this?" You asked as your eyes then picked up the candle, wine and food on the table, the smell of all your favourite Colombian dishes assaulting your senses.

"I wanted to surprise you." He started "I got Steve to help me." He started with a breathy chuckle.

"You didn't need to do this Javier." You stated and you couldn't help but notice how he deflated slightly "I was happy to help you."

"That's not why I did this." He defended "Well it's part of it..." He continued "But I also hoped that this could maybe count as our first date?"

He sounded so nervous and unsure. Bouncing from one foot to the other as he waited on your response. It took you a while to come up with one.

"A date?" You asked and he nodded shyly "I just assumed that-"

"I know what you assumed and I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about the kiss. I should have but the truth was that I was scared." This took you by surprise, your head tilting to one side as you waited for him to elaborate "I've kinda had this crush on you since day one and I didn't act on it because I didn't want you to get dragged into my mess but after these last three weeks... I don't think I can push these feelings to one side anymore."

"You have a crush on me?" You asked bashfully, your cheeks burning.

"Pretty big one, yeah."

"Well, then Agent Peña." You said as you sat yourself down and poured yourself some wine "Let's eat this food before it gets cold."

...

You smiled as you felt Javier thrust his hips against your ass, groaning when you pushed back. His teeth sank into the junction between your shoulder and your neck whilst his hand travelled down, slipping into your sleep shorts and finding you soaked for him already.

"Good morning." He growled seductively and you grinned as you pushed your shorts down, kicking them the rest of the way.

He wasted no time lining himself up and pushing into your warm, wet, heat, whimpering at how well you took him. His thrusts were languid and grabbing your chin, he turned your face towards him and kissed you deeply. His length was hitting perfectly with each and every stroke, stoking the fire deep in your belly. His deft fingers then started circling your clit and that was all it took to send you over the edge. Cumming hard with a cry.

"Mmmm, you're so pretty when you cum baby." He cooed as his thrusts started to become more focused "One more for me?"

"JAVI!" Steve shouting from the front door made you both groan "QUIT FUCKING AND GET OUT HERE!"

"I am officially going to kill him."

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[thepropertylovers]

My Goals and Intentions for the New Year

The air is different at the beach in the winter.

It’s still unseasonably warmer than it is back home, but it’s extra breezy and cooler, like a warm embrace or a light sweater wrapped around your shoulders. I never thought I would want to spend any amount of time in January at the beach, mostly because I’m still in cozy hygge mode and want to live in turtlenecks and cardigans all day instead of sun, shorts, and t-shirts. But nonetheless, we had to come down so PJ can set things up to finish the renovation of the beach shack so that we can hopefully stay in it this summer, so here we are!

Starting the new year off at the beach somehow feels right, weirdly enough. It feels like a breath of fresh air and I’m taking it all in one big gulp at a time. The kids of course love it down here, and though PJ and I were both hesitant about how we would feel once we finally got down here (he, too, was still in complete winter mode), we’re so happy we came. It feels great to get out of the house and spend a little time in one of our favorite places, no matter that it’s 70 degrees in January.

At the start of every new year, I find myself filled with so much gratitude for having made it another year on this planet. Equally so, I feel so thankful that my family is here, safe and healthy for another 365 days. I am very big on New Year’s Resolutions and we do our “words of the year” on the chalkboard wall in our kitchen, but I wanted to leave it here while it’s still fresh in my mind what my goals are for 2023, starting with my mantra or motto for the year:

Choose kindness

I know. Cliche and you’ve probably heard it a million times, but I’m embracing the cheesiness of it all and jumping in head first. I want to choose kindness in everything I do this year: With my family, my friends, myself. I want to put others first while being mindful of myself in the process. I want to do tasks for the ones I love and help them in any way that I can, while also helping myself. I want to give others grace and cut everyone a little slack, much more so than I would have in the past, while also giving myself some grace when I make mistakes.

Along with choosing kindness this year, the below is what I also want to focus on for the next 12 months:

Read more. Books, magazines, columns, blogs. I love reading and want to get back to how I used to read when I was little, which was, in short, a lot more than I do now.

Write more. I plan to write in the blog as much as I can and really work on my writing abilities because I enjoy it so much, and who knows? Maybe there will be a book sometime in the future (a dream!!).

Drink less. I am starting this ASAP with Dry January!

Do something I’ve never done before. Wallpaper a room in our house by myself? Start writing a book? The possibilities are endless!

Get more involved with helping refugees. We have worked with USA for UNHCR for 3 years now, but I would love to take our work with them to the next level. I love everything they stand for in helping the most vulnerable and I am looking forward to continuing working with them this year.

Not worrying so much about what people think. As much as I hate to admit it, I do care, to a certain extent, what those online think about me. I mean, we all do at times, right? Social media is our job but I have never been very comfortable talking directly to the camera on IG Stories, so I am going to work on this year just documenting whatever is happening and not worrying about what people are going to think of what’s coming out of my mouth or if I look dumb. Somehow just writing that down already just feels so much better.

Not caring so much about social media. Along with the above, I also want to stop worrying so much about numbers and statistics and analytics. I will always have to, to a certain extent, because, again, it’s our job and how we make al living, but the last few years I have been so in my head about it all. I want to spend more time focusing on what’s happening in real life, because that’s truly the stuff that matters in the end.

Remember that it’s more about wholeness, not necessarily happiness. Life has so many ups and downs. The only consistent thing is that it’s never consistent, no matter how much we wish it were. I will do my best to remember that all of life’s mishaps only had to the wholeness of my life, which in turn, helps create a much more full, well-rounded life experience.

If I think of any other ones, I will be sure to update them here. I am so excited about all the possibilities the new year brings and I can’t wait to see where 2023 takes our family!! Hope your 2023 is off to a good start!

[shingekinosimpson]

You Had Me At B Minor: Chapter 11

First | Previous

Pairing: Jean Kirschtein x Marco Bodt

Other relationships: Reibert, Springles, Historia x Ymir, Levi x Hange, a smidge of Jearmin

Rating: Mature

Summary: Jean's band needs a new bass player. Cue freckled Jesus.

Warnings/tags: Long fic, slow burn, Jean POV, friends to lovers, British AU with cannon locations, northern Jean, Unsigned band AU, nonbinary Armin, I promise there will be smut eventually! drinking, mentions of death, descriptions of domestic violence, panic attacks, see start of each chapter for more specific trigger warnings

******************************************************************  

Trigger warnings: Panic attack, traffic collision (aftermath)

I'm sick of spending these lonely nights Training myself not to care

Things could always be worse.

I can’t tell you how many times I've heard my mam say those five words. It was her mantra when dad left her. It was my mantra when dad left me. A phrase to cling to during moments of intense anger or sadness.

It was by no means a way of forgiving my dad; things were worse because of what he did. Period. No, it was more a means of coping, of grounding myself whenever I felt like I was spiralling.

Things could always be worse.

Well let me tell you, now I know what it feels like when things get worse.

My day from hell starts like this...

It's been six days since I last saw Marco. Or anyone really, with the exception of a couple of nights off I've shared with Connie. Training to be a firefighter serves as a pretty good excuse for being AWOL lately, genuinely or otherwise. Like Wednesday, when everyone helped Marco move into Eren’s, I was conveniently on a longer training session. Did I want to come round for a drink and a few matches on Fifa after work on Thursday? Oooh well today was pretty physical and I have an early start tomorrow so, no can do.

Wednesday was a long day, but only because I purposely stayed an extra hour to do some online training modules. Thursday was pretty physical, but only because I did an extra gym session afterwards.

Half lies are still just lies I suppose.

I do have an early start today though. Once a week we get to ‘buddy up’ with someone in our station to see how they apply what we’ve learnt so far to real situations. We also get to accompany them if a call comes in, though if it’s for anything serious we just observe. I’m looking forward to it. It’s a good way to get used to the everyday routines of the station before I start working there permanently.

Daz and I are buddied up with Hannes; a veteran of the fire service having worked at West Trost station for over twenty years. He takes a very laid-back approach to everything which puts me at ease. Everyone else we meet seems really friendly too, not just with us but with each other; Shadis was right about this place feeling like a family. I find the thought really comforting, especially with how disconnected I feel from everyone outside of training right now.

The morning is enjoyable and informative. We get to explore all the compartments of the fire engine in more detail and observe people carrying out checks on the breathing apparatus (I swear it’s more interesting than it sounds). Then we get to see a training exercise in action – extinguishing a fire in a three-storey building. They even let us help out with a few things, putting our new ladder skills to the test.

It all serves as a wonderful distraction and I don’t think about anything except the job in hand. It’s only during break times that I start to drift off, lost in my own thoughts, all of which concern Marco. Six days is a long time, though I’ve been trying not to think about it. To be honest, I’ve been learning so much recently that I didn’t realise just how much time had passed until I bothered to count the days. The number six just kind of snuck up on me.

That’s not to say I haven’t thought about it, because I have - believe me I have – and the feeling of something digging into my chest, getting deeper and sharper with every day that passed, has been hard to ignore.

Especially at night.

Despite how much of a toll this training is taking on my body, there have been some nights where sleep refused to take me for hours. It’s in those moments that an endless loop of our last conversation plays behind my eyelids. My mind chatters incessantly with half-baked apologies, knowing I want to speak to him and end this silence but having no idea what to say. I’ve tied myself in knots trying to think of a way to start a conversation, but then my anger takes over and I can never bring myself to do it.

I know I have no right to be angry. He doesn’t owe me an explanation. I know I shouldn’t have shouted at him…but knowing that doesn’t make it easier to shut the anger off. I try not to dwell on why I’m so angry, why I’m so upset, why the knot in my stomach twists so tight when thoughts of him and Floch together push their way to the forefront.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hmm?”

Daz is regarding me with a concerned expression. Though to be fair, he always kind of looks like that - I thought his nerves would have lessened by the second week.

“Yeah! Sorry did you say something?”

“No, you just looked kind of spaced out is all. You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Just tired.”

“I know what you mean. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so much in my life since starting this.”

Must be nice.

After lunch, Hannes tells us we’ll be joining him out in the community, carrying out checks for at-risk areas (abandoned properties and the like). We’re just about to head off when the alarm sounds and everybody drops what they’re doing, springing into action.

“Right boys never mind. Looks like we’re heading out.”

We follow Hannes as he makes a beeline for his uniform peg. We don’t have ours yet, so we’re instructed to just put on the jackets that identify us as trainees for the other emergency services. Hannes is suited and booted in the same time it takes me to get the jacket on, and he directs us to one of the fire engines.

Adrenaline rushes through me as the siren starts and we pull out of the station. I know I’m probably not going to be doing anything, but it’s still pretty exciting!

Hannes turns in his seat to give us a debriefing.

“Okay guys we’re heading to a traffic collision on the motorway. If we’re first on the scene, we’ll need you to stay inside while we secure a blockade in the road. Then you can come out and observe. These kind of calls need to be dealt with swiftly to ensure safety and avoid further collisions, so there won’t be any opportunities for you to practise your skills. However, we may need some assistance with removing debris or talking to the public, so you may be called upon to lend a hand. Services will know you’re trainees, so you won’t be asked to do anything above your grade, but please speak up if you feel uncomfortable with any requests. That sound okay?”

“Yeah understood,” I reply as Daz nods vigorously next to me.

We make it in less than ten minutes; the built-up traffic parts like the Red Sea to let us through. I’m excited to see these guys in action and testing myself to see if I can identify everything they’re doing. However, when the collision site comes into view, my heart drops into my stomach.

I take in the scene before me – a broken barrier, crumpled cars and chunks of metal littering the ground, and the people…

This next part will be quick…I don't think I'll get through it otherwise…

Six cars and an HGV. Three dead. I don’t look.

We’re first response. Mike’s group assigned to cut a woman out of her car. Hannes’ group to check status of injured. So much to deal with. Not enough of us here. Where are the ambulances?

I’m called to assist. Talk to girl while they assess mother. Mother in a bad way. Daughter looks fine. Not even a scratch on her. I try not to look at the driver’s side. I talk to the girl. I don’t know how I sound so calm.

Indy – short for India. Six and three quarters. Has a dog. Boxer called Benny. He likes sleeping in her bed but is only allowed to at weekends. Likes school. Favourite lesson science…Indy goes pale. No response. I scream for paramedics. Both taken away in ambulances. I help others but it's a blur. Hours pass in a blink.

Update on injured from hospital. Mother still in surgery but not hopeful. Indy...internal bleeding. Couldn't save her…

Back at the station, I’m taking my bag out of my locker with shaking hands when I hear my name.

“Jean. Can I borrow you for a moment? Daz I need to catch you afterwards if that’s okay.”

I nod and follow Mike into an office where Hannes is waiting. He gestures for me to take a seat next to him and I do.

I feel numb.

“We just wanted to check in before you leave,” Mike starts. “We know today can't have been easy. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, erm…”

My emotions flood over me in a sick wave. I feel like I want to cry for days at the utter unfairness of it all. I want to pick up the chair I’m sitting on and smash it through the wall. I want to scream until I rid myself of all the pain and rage in my veins.

“…not great.”

“Yeah…I know today was rough. It's unfortunate you were thrown in the deep end like that at such an early stage in your career. But if you can go through an experience like this and find a way to move forward, you can take on anything.”

It sure doesn’t feel that way at the moment but I nod anyway.

“The realisation you can't always save everyone in this job is not a nice one. It's hard losing anyone, but losing kids is...well, it's a different kind of pain. But we wanted to tell you how well you handled everything today. You had a really calm manner with that girl.”

He looks down at his desk, sadness crossing his face. My stomach flips and writhes horribly.

“The nature of her injuries...please understand there was nothing you could have done to save her Jean. No signs you should have looked out for, nothing okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble weakly, unable to meet his eye.

“And I don't know if this will be of any comfort but, if you hadn’t been there today, that girl would have been scared out of her mind. By talking to her, you made sure her final moments weren’t spent in distress. You should be proud of what you did today.”

I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. The tension in my chest gives a fraction.

“Others who've been in your position…have decided this career is not for them after all - and there's no shame in that - but I thought you should know how impressed we are with you so far Jean. You’ve shown great leadership when it’s asked of you. You make quick assessments of situations and support the team to tackle them. That kind of decisiveness saves lives Jean. We need more people like you in the service.”

Hannes nods in agreement and clears his throat before speaking.

“Most of our call outs end in success Jean, but as you now know, losing the people you're trying to protect does happen sometimes. It doesn't get any less painful, but it does get easier to cope with when you're part of a well-established team like me and Mike.”

“He's right. We look after each other and we're all very open when something is bothering us. We have access to great counsellors too if needs be. Hannes and I can both vouch for them, can't we?”

“Yep. Certainly can.”

They both smile at me and my breathing becomes less shallow. I feel a lot less alone in this than I did moments ago.

“Listen,” Mike says, “I'm going to shuffle things around next week and look at well-being with everyone. It's not scheduled until week four, but I think, given what you and Daz have gone through today, it makes sense to do it sooner rather than later. That sound okay to you Jean?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Okay good. Now you've got the weekend to yourself which, if you're anything like me, means you're at risk of ruminating on this. Do you have family or friends you can rely on if you need to talk about anything?”

“Yeah. Yes I've got people. I live with my best mate.”

“Good, that's good. Don't bottle anything up, okay? And I'm going to give you my number and email. If you need to talk at any point you can get in touch with me.”

He scribbles his info down on a post-it note and hands it to me.

“You have access to our counselling service as well. You don't need to make a decision now - take the weekend to think it over - but the option's there if you need it.”

I don't think I've ever felt so well-cared for in my life. At least not by anyone that wasn't my mam. I can't believe the level of support they're giving me with this. It feels above and beyond.

“Okay,” I say standing to leave. “Thank you so much.”

“Not at all. You look after yourself.”

“Yeah good work today Jean,” Hannes adds, patting me on the shoulder.

I bid them both farewell and finish collecting my things. Daz offers me a weak wave as he’s called into the office next.

______________________________________________

I drive home on autopilot, my mind swimming with Hannes and Mike’s words.

How impressed we are. Great leadership. You had a really calm manner. Nothing you could have done. Proud of yourself. Need more people like you. We look after each other.

It’s strange to be devastated but also…hopeful, I guess is how I would describe the feeling. Having some validation about how I’m performing feels good. And I don’t think they were saying it just to make me feel better. I feel like they want me to succeed and by extension, care about me.

A flicker of optimism starts to glow in my mind - maybe I will get through what happened today. I think, with their support, I can do it.

The upcoming lights change to red and I slow to a stop at the crossroads. The radio is on and I find myself humming along, tapping a beat on the steering wheel. There’s still a fragility to my voice, but I tell myself I’m okay.

Another car pulls up in the lane beside me, and when I glance over…it feels like the world has given way beneath my feet.

There’s a little girl with long dark hair in the passenger seat, bouncing her teddy up and down on her knee and chattering happily. She looks just like Indy.

I stop breathing. My fingers tingle as a prickling starts running up the back of my neck. I stare at the girl and see Indy’s face turn pale as her head slumped forward. I remember the way her eyes fluttered closed as she lost consciousness and the prickling gets worse, my chest tightening, head buzzing.

My gaze follows them as they pull away and wait to turn right, but then the sharp blast of a car horn jolts me back to reality and I realise I’m holding up traffic. I pull away as fast as I dare, gripping the steering wheel with both hands whenever I don’t have to change gears.

Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t cry. You’re okay.

By the time I make it home I’ve just about got myself under control. I feel like my chest is bruised on the inside, but my breathing is steadier and some feeling is returning to my fingers.

You’re okay. You just weren’t expecting to see someone that looked like her so soon after. Bad luck that’s all. You’re home now. You’re okay. You’re okay.

If I say it to myself enough times it might come true.

I must have just missed Connie leaving for work, because nobody answers when I call up the stairs after locking the front door. I was psyching myself up to act normal – I wouldn’t want to worry him when he has to go to work – so I thought I’d be relieved when I didn’t hear his voice. To be honest though, now that I’m walking into a silent living room, I really wish he was here.

You’re okay. You’re okay.

I get changed into my sloppy house clothes and think about what to do. My mind’s still too on edge to concentrate on TV and I’m not in the mood for the PlayStation. Maybe I should eat something. It’s been quite a few hours since lunch and making something will keep my jittery hands busy.

You’re okay.

I put the TV on just for some background noise and set to work looking in the fridge for something decent. There’s a few things hanging around in here that are definitely past their best – Connie loves cooking programmes so will often come home with random items that he half uses or just forgets about completely. However, I do find some okay looking veg and half a tub of green pesto, so I set about making a pasta dish.

‘A collision involving multiple vehicles resulted in five fatalities today.’

I drop the pan on the countertop with a clatter and whirl round. It’s on the local news. The collision is on the local news.

‘Emergency services were called to the M7 on the outskirts of West Trost after…’

Images from today flash up on the screen – scraps of metal littering the road, the barrier where it was twisted and mangled by the HGV, a close up on one of the cars - badly damaged with a front that looks like a concertina.

‘One of the victims was India Begum, a six-year-old girl from…’

A photo appears on the screen of a girl. It’s a school picture. She’s smiling, vibrant and full of life. It’s the Indy I never got the chance to meet, that so many others will never get the chance to meet.

The tingling in my fingers is back with vengeance, sick chills rolling up my arms making me nauseous.

‘…while her mother remains in a critical condition in hospital. The family are said to be devastated by the news.’

A sudden whimper leaps up out of my throat and I press my hand to my mouth like I’m trying to push it back in.

Why? Why are they reporting this? Why are they reminding me what happened?

It's like the world is taking a sick sort of pleasure in torturing me when I least expect it, tearing into me and laughing as I frantically try to stop myself from bleeding out.

I choke out a sob against my hand, the burning in my throat almost unbearable, and look around for something to hold on to. My other hand slams down and grips fiercely along the edge of the countertop as tears sting my eyes...and then I break completely.

Horrible, violent sobs tumble from my mouth but my body can’t keep up with them. I gasp for air, trying to fill my lungs before the next one hits, but it feels like nothing’s going in. I’m drowning, struggling in quicksand. My vision blurs with tears and I’m pulled under, choking and crying and pulling at my hair.

When I finally resurface, I’m sat on the floor in a ball, with my head on my knees and my back against the oven. My breathing is shallow, but at least it feels like it’s actually working now. I keep my fingers twisted in my hair and my forehead resting on my knees. The feeling helps to ground me, and I start to feel in control of my body again.

I’m not sure how long I stay like this, but eventually the seriousness of what’s just happened starts to weigh cold in my gut and I realise, I don’t want to be alone right now.

I’m not okay.

I could call Connie - I’m sure he’d find a way to leave work - but (and I know it's pathetic) I want to be held. I need to be held, because I genuinely fear I might fall apart at the seams again any second.

My mam is an obvious choice - I have no doubt she'd hold me close and stroke my hair just like she used to when I was a kid – but I'll make her worry, and when my mam worries, she tends to make things worse. She means well but sometimes she overreacts, and I end up getting more stressed trying to put her mind at ease.

So, I'm really only left with one person. Or more accurately, there's only one person I'm desperately craving the company of right now.

It's so selfish of me to ask though, to hope all is forgiven. I haven't properly apologised to him yet and I don't want him to think I'm only doing it now because I need something. But then again, I'm struggling to think of anyone else whose eyes overflow with the kindness and understanding I’m in need of right now.

I shift and slide my phone out of my pocket. With shaking hands, I hit the green call button and will myself to gain some composure as I listen to the dial tone.

I freeze when he picks up, bracing myself for a curt hello...

"I swear to God I was just about to ring you when my phone started go off in my hand! You scared the shit out of me!" he chuckles breathlessly. “I’m so glad you called.”

Hearing his reaction, I should be relieved – like, over the moon, pissing my pants with happiness relieved - and I'm sure a part of me is, but it’s overshadowed by the painful clench in my chest, twisting up into my throat and around my vocal cords.

"H-Hello?" comes Marco's voice again.

Calm down. Calm down.

"H...Hi, erm."

My voice barely chokes out those words and I'm painfully aware of the quiver at the end. This is not how I wanted this to go.

"...Jean what's wrong?"

He knows. He knows something's not right. He can hear it in my voice.

My words stick in my throat when I try to speak again. "So...today, erm...a-at work I..."

That's as far as I get. There’s a half-second moment where I’m just numb and floating before the weight of everything smacks into me like I’ve just landed face first onto concrete, and I disintegrate into strangled sobbing again. I wince at the pain behind my eyes, trying to hold back the flood gates, but they've already been breached.

"Jean!?"

I gasp a breath, trying to gain my composure long enough to speak. "I'm sorry, I just- Can I come over p-please?"

"No."

Wait, what?

"I'll come to you. Are you at home?"

"Y-yeah."

"Okay I'll order a taxi and come over now. Do you want me to stay on the phone until I'm there?"

"N-no...well, I-I dunno. Maybe?" I stammer pathetically. I hate how weak my voice sounds.

“I’ll stay on the line,” he says firmly. “I’m just going to put you on speaker phone so I can order my taxi, but don’t worry, nobody else can hear you.”

“O-okay.”

His voice is assured and filled with so much tenderness. It helps to steady me and the panic starts to melt away.

“Okay, I’m just on the app now. It says there’s a car three minutes away so it shouldn’t take me long to get to you.”

“Okay that’s good,” I reply, my voice finally finding a little more strength. I already feel better knowing he's on his way and some of my anxiety shrinks back on itself.

I can hear movement that sounds like him gathering up his keys, or maybe his wallet with the chocobo key ring attached. Listen to him, just listen to this boy dropping everything to come help me when he doesn’t even know what’s wrong…even after I acted like a complete and utter arsehole.

My heart twinges painfully and I realise just how much not speaking to him has affected me. I’ve fallen out with friends before, but this has been different; a deep, festering sort of discomfort that’s been slowly eating me from the inside out.

And the worst thing is I’ve been letting it. Why the hell didn’t I pick up the phone sooner?

I can’t hold it in anymore.

“…’M so sorry Marco.”

His voice sounds distant. “Sorry Jean what did you say?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Marco.”

No sounds come through the line for a moment and I feel my eyes burn once again, forewarning the next bout of tears.

“Jean, there’s nothing to be sorry for okay?”

“N-no there is! I’m so sorry about what I said to you.”

“Jean.”

“And that I haven’t called or text you until now!”

“Jean.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Jean!”

I clamp my mouth shut and let the tears run silently down my face.

“Jean listen you don’t need to…I’m sorry too.”

Despite my best efforts to hold it back, I start sobbing again. I don’t understand how my body is still capable of producing tears at this point.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey you’re okay. Jean? Jean listen to me I’m leaving now. Just take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me?”

I cling to Marco’s voice like a lifeline and do what he says, heaving air into my lungs as slowly as I can.

“Okay, I’m in the taxi now alright? It won’t take me long to get to you.”

He stays on the line for the whole journey, describing exactly where he is and what he can see. When I hear the rumble of a car engine outside, I drop my phone and run down the stairs, wrenching the front door open to make sure he’s really there.

His arms encircle me and I collapse against his chest, my hands sliding up his shoulder blades and squeezing him tightly. I cry, but it’s not the uncontrollable sobs I had before. I tremor from how cold my body suddenly feels, but my breathing is calmer now that I have his warmth against me.

“Jesus you’re shaking,” he whispers.

He guides me to sit on the stairs and keeps hugging me, running soothing circles over my back and stroking my hair. A minute passes like this before he leans back and looks at me, his deep eyes full of concern. He has one hand on my knee, the other holding the side of my head.

“Shall we head upstairs?” he asks in a gentle voice, his thumb running across my cheek to catch a stray droplet.

I croak out a reply and he stands to lead the way, holding my hand and checking over his shoulder every two seconds, like he’s scared I’ll stumble or something. He guides me over to the sofa, taking a seat beside me when I draw my legs up to hug my knees.

My skin is covered in goose bumps and I rub at my biceps in an attempt to ease my shivering. Initially, Marco reaches a hand out to rub at my arm too, but then he retracts it and pulls his hoody off over his head.

“Here,” he says, gently putting it over my head and encouraging me to reach my arms into the sleeves. I just sit there like a small child and let him, still too shaken to do much else. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

The hoody is warm and smells like him. I take a deep breath and recount everything from the collision today, breaking down again when I talk about Indy. I get through it though. Marco doesn’t say anything beyond and occasional hum or an ‘oh god’ when I get to an especially upsetting part.

“God Jean, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Yeah…me too. You know, signing up for the fire service, I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew things would sometimes be hard, but actually seeing the reality of it...five people died today Marco.”

I swallow hard as my vision swims with more tears. I quickly wipe them away and move to sit cross-legged.

“…I don’t know if I can do this.”

His gaze drops to my hands, which are currently wringing the life out if each other. He pries them apart, unbelievably gentle with me.

“Jean there’s no shame in walking away from this if that's what you need to do. Everyone would understand.”

They would, I know they would. They’ve all been so supportive, knowing how much this means to me. They’d get me through it if I decided to walk away.

But then I think of the people that were saved today, like that woman we freed from her car. I think of Indy and imagine how traumatic her final moments could have been if I wasn't there to talk to her and keep her calm. I think of what Mike said about my leadership and I think of letting down my team.

My mind is made up in an instant. I can't walk away from this. I refuse to disappoint anyone by giving up before I've barely started. I can do this. I know I can.

“No. I don't want that.” My voice sounds firm, though that doesn't save me from sniffing unattractively before speaking again. “I'm not ready to give up yet.”

Marco takes a deep breath and I swear my own lungs fill with air, a kind smile gracing his beautiful features.

“God Jean, I think you’re so brave.” He doesn’t look me in the eye when he speaks, so he doesn’t notice the way my jaw drops.

Is this guy for real? The shit he’s had to go through and he thinks I’m brave?

“Hmm, I don’t know about that. Maybe if I was braver this whole thing wouldn’t have got to me so much,” I sniffle.

Ugh. I sound so bunged and disgusting.

“I don’t think that has anything to do with bravery Jean. I think the fact that this affected you so much just shows you care. What’s brave is you’re not letting it stop you from helping the next person.”

This time he does look at me and the tenderness I see in his watery eyes almost makes me want to start balling again.

“Thanks Marco.”

“No worries,” he smiles. “Hey have you eaten yet? I was thinking I could make us some food if you like.”

I feel a warm tug on my heart strings and have to metaphorically pinch myself. How did I get lucky enough to find someone like Marco in my corner? And how did I get so stupid as to almost throw it away because I can’t keep my feelings in check around him?

I won’t make that mistake again. I don’t care if he never feels the same way I do. He’s doesn’t have to like me back; it’s enough to just be in his orbit.

“Yeah but I need to do something first.”

“Okay, what’s that?”

I shuffle closer to him and nearly laugh at the way his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. My hands reach his shoulders and I pull him to me, sliding my arms around his strong back and nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming over and…just being you I guess.”

He chuckles softly into my shoulder and squeezes me back, letting his chest melt against mine.

“ S’alright.”

“And I’m sorry. I know you said it doesn’t matter but it does. I’m so sorry for shouting at you. I was completely out of order.”

I hold him close as I speak. Not seeing his face makes it easier to say what I need to say.

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have got so defensive. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“S’okay.”

He gives me another squeeze before pulling away. He looks sadly at his lap before speaking again.

“I’m not back with Floch by the w-”

“You don’t have to tell me anything Marco.”

“No I know but, I get why it would be a shock after what he did…I did see him again, but only once. I was feeling pretty down last Thursday and then he sent me this text saying he missed me.”

Thursday. I knew something had been wrong with him that night.

“I shouldn’t have gone ‘round – I knew exactly what would happen if I did – but I just felt so shit and lonely and…we’ve only slept together that one time since we broke up. And I felt like fucking shit afterwards…It wasn’t even that good,” he huffs through his nose with a sad laugh.

It shouldn’t make me smile but it does. He catches me trying not to and we both let out a soft breathy chuckle, our cheeks tinging slightly red.

These past few days, having no contact with Marco, I’ve woken every morning with a heavy feeling in my chest, like a stone was lodged there. Now I can feel it crumbling into dust.

“He text me a couple of times afterwards but I didn’t know what to say so I ignored it, hoping he’d get the message, which was pretty shitty of me I guess.”

“Marco nothing you’ve done to him could be as shitty as what he did to you.”

His face twists in a way that tells me he’s not convinced, running a hand through his hair as he turns to flop back against the sofa.

“I have spoken to him now though. After that message you saw, I told him it was a mistake, that it wouldn’t be happening again and I couldn’t forgive him for what he did.”

Good. You need that creep out of your life Marco.

“It’s stupid. I know I’ve done the right thing, and it was my decision, but I still feel so shitty about everything. I thought cutting ties with him would make me feel better, but it hasn’t really.”

“Marco, it’s okay if you still…” I’m already wincing at what I’m going to say. “If you still have feelings for him. You were together a while. It’s understandable that you can’t just switch it off.”

“No, no it’s not that…not really. It’s more that…that I still don’t understand what went wrong.”

Anguish skates across his face as he stares at the ceiling. He swallows audibly and then in a soft voice that breaks my heart adds, “I just wish I knew…why wasn’t I enough for him? Why am I never enough for them?”

At first my voice won’t come out. Seeing how much pain he’s still in grips my throat despite how much I want to rave and scream that he’s asking the wrong question. Of course he’s enough. He’s more than enough. Floch and those other arseholes should be asking why they couldn’t be enough for Marco.

But when I hear him sniff, my strength comes rushing back to me. I have to make him see.

“Marco, I think I know you well enough by now to know you are more than enough for anyone. You’re a fucking amazing guy. Nothing that happened was your fault. Floch doing what he did had nothing to do with you. That shitty choice is on him. All of it. And there’s nothing you could have done to change it.”

He nibbles on his bottom lip as he nods, still staring at the ceiling.

“Some people are just, well…dicks.”

Wow. Eloquent. How the fuck are you a song writer?

He slowly turns his head towards me and I worry I might have overstepped the mark, but then he snorts and starts laughing, his red eyes regaining their sparkle.

“You never did like him did you Jean?”

I’m laughing too and finding it really hard to look coy.

“Shit. Was it really that obvious?” I ask scratching the back of my head.

“I mean…Yeah. Yeah it was.”

We both descend into giggles, catching stray tear drops on the back of our hands, some from laughing, some from earlier.

“God we’re a right mess aren’t we?” he laughs, wiping his damp hand on his jeans.

“Well, at least we’ll be a mess together,” I smile.

His own smile softens. A short moment passes between us where he just looks at me fondly, but then it’s ruined by my stomach making an ungodly growling sound.

“Bloody hell. You’d think I hadn’t eaten in days!” I laugh.

Marco chuckles and stands. “C’mon let’s see what we can rustle up in the kitchen.”

He offers a hand to help me up and I follow him to the fridge.

______________________________________________

After a short debate, Marco convinces me that a few more ingredients will transform my pasta dish from ‘bland to grand’ and I agree to go to the shop with him. I keep his big hoody on over my comfy clothes, deciding I’m going for the ‘I’m feeling sorry for myself don’t fucking @ me’ look. I offer him one of my hoodies in return, trying to not blush at the fact we’re wearing each other’s clothes.

The fresh air makes me feel better, helping to calm my red cheeks and clear my nose. Marco grabs a basket when we get there, looking very domesticated.

“Right we need some cherry tomatoes and some mozzarella…Oh the fresh basil’s reduced! We’ll get some of that too.”

I can’t help but quirk a smile at him. How the hell does he manage to make food shopping enjoyable? Though, I’d probably find just about anything enjoyable with him by my side.

“Hey Marco, do you like macarons?” I call out as he scans the bazillion types of cheese they’ve got here.

“Yeah why?”

When he turns, he sees me waggling my eyebrows and holding up a huge platter of them - reduced from the party food section.

“Oh man. Do they have pistachio ones?”

“Yeah but you’ll have to fight me for them,” I smirk, chucking the platter in the basket.

“Excuse me, I am about to cook you a fabulous meal. I think that merits at least half of the pistachio macarons!”

Suppose I can’t argue with that, and I certainly can’t argue with the butterflies doing loop-da-loops in my stomach at the thought of Marco cooking for me.

“Fair enough, we’ll share them. It’ll be nice to have a meal that isn’t just stuff from the freezer. I’m not much of a cook. Connie likes to think he is but his experiments in the kitchen definitely go wrong more than they go right!”

“I love cooking. I know everyone says this about their mum but, my mum is literally the best cook in the world. I’ve learnt a lot from her. She makes amazing Italian food.”

“Oh yeah, your Grandma was Italian right?”

“Yeah. My mum was born here but every summer my grandma would take her to Florence to stay with my Great-Aunt and all they’d do is cook together. Sundays are the best at my house when Mum isn’t working. She always goes all out with a three-course meal for me and Mia and any other family members we happen to drag along.”

“Three courses?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You’ll have to come some time. She’s always desperate for people to feed.”

He says it likes it’s nothing but the gesture gives me a wide, bashful smile, imagining myself sitting around the kitchen table like one of the family. “Never say no to a free meal,” I say, jostling him in the shoulder.

We head down the aisle with the dental products after I remember I need to pick up some toothpaste, but when the brushes catch my eye I stop, something dawning on me that I hadn’t thought of until now.

Marco waits patiently as I give a hum, thinking about what I want to say.

“Marco.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you, erm…”

Fuck. I really wish I’d thought of this when we were still at the flat and not now, in the middle of Sainsbury’s with people all around us.

“I was just thinking…” I start again.

“What?”

I let go of the packet I’d been fondling and grab my toothpaste instead. “No, it’s dumb.”

I feel a gentle tug on my shoulder as he turns me back around. “Jean, c’mon what’s up?”

“Well…please feel free to say no but, I was just gonna ask…I mean…I’m just a bit worried about being on my own tonight and Connie won’t be back ‘til quite late so…d’you think-” a lady with a pushchair squeezes past us. “Would you mind staying over?”

He blinks at me owlishly, but smiles.

“Yeah. Yeah of course I can,” he answers to my relief. “I mean, I’m working at Bean’s tomorrow so I’ll have to leave early enough to go home and get changed but…Yeah, I can stay over.”

He rubs my arm soothingly and I let out a breath. “Thanks. I’m just worried I’ll be…I dunno-”

“You don’t have to explain Jean. I’m happy to stay over,” he grins turning to the toothbrushes. “Guess I’ll be needing one of these then.”

He goes to grab a plain blue one but I cut him off, reaching over him.

“I think you’ll find you’ll be needing this one!”

He shakes his head at me and laughs, chucking the Hello Kitty brush in the basket and heading towards the tills with me sniggering behind him.

______________________________________________

Witchcraft. Literal black fucking magic. That’s the only way to describe how Marco takes a few simple ingredients and transforms them into something so delicious, it’s borderline orgasmic.

“Oh my god,” I mumble around a mouthful of heaven. “I’m having a foodgasm.”

He replies with a hum and a nod, too busy tucking in himself for anything more articulate. We decided to be total heathens sit on the sofa instead of at the breakfast bar, using a couple of cushions to balance the plates on our knees.

We don’t say much beyond an occasional laugh or comment at the TV. Marco got way too excited when he discovered Spaced in my DVD collection so we’re watching it from the beginning – something that will no doubt result in a lot of silly gifs and memes in the coming days. It acts as a nice buffer between us and the raw feelings still hanging in the air from earlier.

I hoover my food up in no time, lying back against the sofa with a satisfied sigh once I’ve cleared every last morsel from my plate.

“Seriously, did you sell your soul to the Church of Gordon Ramsey? That was so fucking good.”

“Ha! No. But if churches dedicated to chefs actually existed, I’d be praying at Nigella Lawson’s.”

“Hmm, I’m sure that has everything to do with her food!”

We relax and let our food settle, happy to be in each other’s company. It feels so comfortable. Eventually though, the temptation of dessert becomes too much for both of us, and I heave myself off the sofa to go get them.

“D’you want a beer?” I ask when I open the fridge.

“With macarons? Are you mad?” he says aghast. “Put a pot of tea on!”

So I do, and there we sit a few minutes later, eating macarons and sipping tea like two old ladies on a Saturday afternoon.

“Mate, if my teenage self could see me now. What a wild way to spend a Friday night,” I laugh.

Marco quirks an eyebrow at me. “Would you rather be doing something else?” he asks, taking a bite of a pink macaron and smirking at me.

It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. “No way. Tea and sweet treats – what more could a person want?”

“Exactly.”

______________________________________________

We make it through the whole of season one, ending with one of my favourite Mike Watt moments - leading the club in a dance routine to the A-Team theme song.

I snort unattractively and look over at Marco with a smile, but see he’s fallen asleep – snuggled in my hoody and slumped against the huge cushion between us. He’s breathing softly through his nose, which at this proximity, I realise is covered in an assortment of freckles. Usually just the darker ones stand out, but now I can see the lighter ones that pepper his skin too.

I try not to think about what it would be like to kiss each one.

Instead I watch the throw that’s draped over us both move up and down with his steady breathing, and then let my eyes wander back to his serene expression. I stare down at those beautiful, dark eyelashes fluttering prettily against his cheeks, a tranquil smile curling at my lips. I’m starting to think I could write an entire fucking album about those eyelashes if I tried hard enough.

A lock of hair has fallen in front of his face, tickling his eye and making it twitch every so often. My hand decides to move without consulting me, reaching forward…

I’m not stroking his hair. I’m just…helpfully brushing it back for him.

The wavy strands are soft to the touch when I gently move them aside and out of his eye. The lock doesn’t quite go back far enough though, so I push it again, my fingers carding ever so slightly through his hair in my attempt to tuck it away.

The ache in my chest is palpable as I watch the rise and fall of his, my fingers yet to stop their steady back and forth motion. It’s damn near excruciating how much I want to lean down and brush a soft kiss against his forehead and knowing I can’t...yet I can’t tear myself away.

“Mmm.”

My hand snaps back like it’s been electrocuted when he stirs and snuggles further down into my hoody.

Fuck! What are you doing?

Fearing his eyes will snap open any second, I jump from the sofa and start gathering our plates off the coffee table. I’ve just placed them on the kitchen counter when I see his eyes flutter open. He sits himself up straight and pushes the throw away so he can stretch.

“You okay?” I ask, praying to god he didn’t feel anything in his sleep…but then he hits me with a gorgeous smile and I find it hard to care.

“Yeah thanks. Sorry for dozing off.”

“S’alright,” I reply relieved. Then a cheeky thought crosses my mind, “I could’ve done without the loud snoring though.”

“I don’t snore!”

“You do. Sounded like a tractor getting fucked by a motorbike.”

His jaw drops with a huge smile as he grabs a cushion and launches it at me. I duck behind the breakfast bar with an ‘eeeep!’ to avoid it.

“I do NOT snore!”

“I know. Just wanted to see if I could convince you otherwise,” I laugh, chucking the cushion back.

He yawns gently and itches his eye in a way that’s a million times more adorable than it should be.

“Should we call it a night?” I ask.

“Yeah, probably should. Do you have spare blankets or anything? For the sofa?”

“Oh…erm…”

Crap. I’ve got plenty of pillows, but I don’t actually have a spare duvet to give him.

“Or just a sheet to go with this throw will do to be honest.”

“Marco, I’m not letting you kip on that with just a sheet and a throw. A leather sofa’s not the most comfortable thing to sleep on at the best of times, never mind without proper blankets…Just kip in my bed…if you want.”

“You…you sure that’s okay?”

Is it okay? Am I really about to do this to myself?

“Yeah of course. Don’t worry I don’t bite,” I grin. “It’s big enough for two people anyway. C’mon.”

I don’t wait for an answer and lead the way to my room, my sudden wave of bravery carrying me along. He follows me inside, glancing around at the various pictures and old posters on the walls. I move my bag and a couple of other things I’ve left lying on the bed and notice him shuffling awkwardly on his feet, like he’s not sure where to put himself.

“I sleep on the right side in case you were wondering.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “That’s good. I prefer the left.”

The butterflies in my stomach make themselves known again at that comment, twitching and flipping around. I savour the discomfort.

“That works out well then. Do you want something to sleep in?”

“Yeah please if you don’t mind.”

“’Course not.”

“Thanks. Can I pinch a t-shirt?”

I turn to my chest of drawers and start rummaging through my stash of old band t-shirts. Marco’s a little wider across the chest than me so I try to find a baggy one.

“Is Sonic Youth okay?” I ask, chucking the bundle and laughing when it hits him in the face.

“Oi! he squawks. “Yeah that’s fine. Oh, I’ve got The Simpsons version of this!” he chirps as he unfolds it.

“A Simpsons version?”

He strips off his top and my hoody with a smile, chatting away and thankfully oblivious to the way I have to force myself to keep looking at his face.

“Yeah it’s got Bart and Milhouse on and the writing’s about their squishy bender.”

“Aw that sounds-”

I momentarily forget how to brain when he ducks to pull the top over his head and I get a really good view of his torso. He’s got a smattering of freckles across his slightly fuzzy chest, lessening in their frequency as they lead down his smooth stomach. That’s a nice view in of itself, but when my eyes lock onto his hips, I almost have a nosebleed - his happy trail and follow-me lines daring me to do just that. I try really hard not to think about where they lead.

“Ahem,” I cough. “That sounds cool.”

I look at him again thinking I’ll be safe now that he’s got a top on but have to catch my breath for the third time in less than a minute. There is nothing sexy about the shirt I’ve given Marco, but…there is just something about Marco wearing my clothes that gets me more hot and bothered than I care to admit. And the realisation that I’m about to have Marco Bodt in my bed (even if it’s not in that way) makes the feeling ten times worse.

Crap. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Oh, I’ve left my toothbrush in the other room,” he says turning to leave.

“It’s in the bag on the bench,” I call to him.

I thank my lucky stars for the few seconds peace I have to collect myself. With fumbling fingers, I quickly pull my joggers off, giving my dick a quick check to make sure it hasn’t gotten any funny ideas, and grab a t-shirt for myself. Marco strides back in just as I’m stretching my arms up to pull it on.

He stops in the doorway. “Oh,” he says with a flat expression. “I was really hoping your underwear would be more ridiculous than that.”

My eyes bulge out of their sockets as I look between him and my plain burgundy boxers. “Wh-what!?”

“Okay promise not to laugh,” he grins, putting his toothbrush down and unbuttoning his jeans.

Hoh boy. Like watching this guy undress could ever make me laugh…

“Ta-da!” he cries with a smile, pushing his jeans to the floor and lifting his arms.

Oh!

I splutter unattractively before my body gives way to full-on belly laughs.

Marco Bodt is standing in my room…wearing blue and white Cookie Monster boxers.

“Hey! I said don’t laugh!”

“Yeah but I never promised I wouldn’t!”

“Look, it’s not like I knew I’d be joining you for a sleepover when I put them on this morning!”

“Why did you decide to put them on at all!?” I wheeze.

“They’re really comfy! You’re just jealous your unmentionables aren’t as cool as mine.”

He smiles brightly when I burst into giggles again, awkwardly kicking his jeans off the rest of the way.

“Clearly. I’m gonna leave you to think seriously about your life choices while I go brush my teeth.”

I chuckle to myself as I wet my brush and squeeze a blob of toothpaste onto it. I’ve just started brushing when I see him walk towards me in the mirror. He bumps his hip into mine to shuffle me along the sink and I narrow my eyes at him, unable to make a snide remark with a mouthful of toothpaste.

I wait until he’s just about to squeeze some toothpaste over his brush and knock him back, causing most of the toothpaste to go over the back of his hand. My look of smug satisfaction smiles at his reflection as he grits his teeth and tries really hard not to laugh.

“Dick,” he mutters, scraping the paste onto his Hello Kitty brush.

I snigger around my brush. We elbow each other a few more times, my giggles getting the better of me again when he puts his Hello Kitty brush in the glass next to mine with a cheeky grin.

Marco turns to leave before me and the tug in my lower abdomen makes me really wish I’d walked out first, because Jesus Christ - Marco Bodt might actually have the nicest arse in the entire fucking world. My cheeks are already pretty hot from laughing but I feel them flare even more as I watch him walk away.

Fuck me, it’s actually perfect.

I try really hard not to think about how firm and round it looks. I especially try not to think about the satisfying sound it would make if I brought my hand down on it, but then he turns around and that dirty thought is quickly replaced by another one.

“Am I alright to grab a glass of water? I sometimes get thirsty through the night.”

Oh for fucksake! This cannot be good for my health!

I’m momentarily lost in the shape of a different curve, this one at the front of his underwear, accentuated by the stretch of the cotton - I am clearly not the only one in danger of feeling thirsty tonight!

Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.

I quickly avert my gaze. This would be the worst possible time to get caught creeping.

“Y-yeah, help yourself.”

I turn the light off but leave my bedside lamp on and climb under the covers to give myself a talking to.

Right that’s enough now! He’s going to be sleeping in your bed in a moment and you CANNOT make this weird.

He returns with his glass of water and a coaster from the coffee table to rest it on. He’s such a nerd. At least thinking about how cute he is isn’t as bad as perving on his arse and dick.

“Hey, have you spoken to Sasha recently?” he asks, climbing in beside me.

“No why?”

“She’s invited us all to stay at her Grandma’s holiday cottage.”

“Holiday cottage?”

He rolls over to face me. “Yeah. She told us all at Eren’s the other night. Her Grandma has a cottage in Dauper she uses for holiday-lets. She told Sasha she can use it for free one weekend next month so we’re making it into a road trip.”

“Is there enough room for us all?”

“Apparently yeah. She said it’s two cottages that got knocked through into one.”

I’ve never been to Dauper, but somewhere that far out in the countryside is bound to have pretty low levels of light pollution. I feel a smile stretch across my face at the realisation that this might be the perfect opportunity to do some star gazing.

“If the sky’s not too cloudy, might be a good chance to see the night sky in all its glory.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can’t remember the last time I went star gazing,” I say, looking up at the ceiling and imagining I can see right through it. “Plus I can put my new knowledge to the test.”

“What knowledge?” he asks.

I turn back to him with a smile. “You know, from the book you gave me.”

“Oh yeah.” There’s a hint of a blush on his face as he struggles to maintain eye-contact. That, coupled with the sleepy look in his glittering eyes, does nothing to stop the twinges in my chest. “You had a look through it then?”

“Yeah course! I really like the illustrations.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“For what?”

“When I bought it for you, I didn’t realise you couldn’t read,” he teases, biting his tongue to keep from laughing.

“Hey!”

I reach out to jab him in the side, and then go for a full-on tickle when he yelps. I take pity on him pretty quickly though, too sleepy at this point to fight when he pushes my hand away with a giggle.

“Serves you right, calling my adulthood into question. You’re the one lying there in Cookie Monster kecks!”

“Haha. They’re not even the worst ones!”

“Seriously??”

“Yeah. I’m a total nerd for silly underwear. My favourite ones are BMO.”

“Oh my god they sound amazing. You’ll have to show me sometime. No wait! I don’t mean…Oh no.”

His eyes crease up and he descends into giggles, rolling onto his back to clutch his stomach. I may have just made an idiot out of myself, but I’m finding it really hard to care when Marco Bodt is snuggled in my bed and laughing his head off without a care in the world.

“I didn’t mean it like THAT!”

He gives himself a moment to breathe, before smirking at me.

“Pervert.”

His wicked little giggles give way to uncontrollable laughter and cries of ‘Ah stop!’ that fall on deaf ears when I tickle him again. His legs tangle with mine as he gives up trying to throw me off and rolls onto his side to grab my hands.

His wicked little giggles give way to uncontrollable laughter and cries of ‘Ah stop!’ that fall on deaf ears when I tickle him again. His legs tangle with mine as he gives up trying to throw me off and rolls onto his side to grab my hands.

“Stop! Stop!” he laughs breathlessly, finally succeeding in grabbing both my wrists and holding them still. I don’t try to wrench my wrists from his grip, and I definitely don’t think about how easily he could pin my wrists above my head if he wanted.

“Truce?” I ask with a quirk of my eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he pants smiling. “Truce.”

I retract my arms when he lets go and snuggle further under the blanket. My eyes are starting to feel heavy after that burst of energy.

We chat a little longer about how he’s finding living with Eren, speaking in hushed tones. We don’t have any real reason to lower our voices – Connie isn’t back from work yet – but we do anyway, as though neither of us wants to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

And I really do feel at peace. I may have had the day from hell, but this evening is one I’ll remember for a long time. That twist of melancholy is still there, but with him lying next to me, I can live with it.

When both of us start yawning like crazy, we agree to knock the lamp off and try to get some shut-eye. He shuffles further down and draws the duvet closer with a contented sigh. I can no longer see his face, my eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet, but when he mumbles, “G’night Jean”, I swear I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Night Marco.”

______________________________________________

She’s here.

She’s okay.

Indy smiles at me from a table covered in crayons and paper.

There are desks and chairs and bright pictures on the walls. I think we’re in school, but there’s other people rushing around us – too blurry and shapeless for me to grasp who they are. Indy’s drawing a picture. When I walk over, she starts to hold it up for me to see. It’s a car. Two people are sat in the front…but their faces…

My eyes whip back to Indy but it’s already too late. Her pallid face and lolling head steal every scrap of air from my lungs. I lunge to catch her and try to scream but no sound comes out. I look to the figures around me, some now more distinct in their uniforms. Why is nobody helping me? Somebody do something!

Nobody helps. I’m on my own. And I’m useless. Utterly useless.

I’m alone. I can’t save her.

My hands shake her frantically as guilt eats at me from the inside out. Wake up! Wake up!

I’m alone. I can’t save her.

But then someone wrenches her from my arms. A woman. She sees what I’ve done, and when she opens her mouth, my blood turns to ice. Her pale, sickly face contorts around her too big mouth; manic eyes bulging at me. And then she screams. A horrid, wailing screech, like a train that’s just slammed its brakes on, deafeningly loud. I want to cover my ears but I’m too terrified to move.

I stare at Indy’s tiny, limp body in the woman’s arms.

I’m alone. I can’t save her.

I’m sorry.

I’m alone. I can’t save her.

I’m so sorry.

“Ah!”

I gasp sharply, my eyes snapping open. Darkness engulfs me. There’s nothing but the sound of my harsh, shallow breaths coming in quick succession and my heart thudding violently in my ears as it pinballs around my chest.

Fuck…Fuck!!

The sound of my heaving breaths and the continued blackness start to freak me out. Am I even awake? Is this just a horrid continuation of the nightmare? But then I blink. My eyes adjust to the lack of light, catching the outline of familiar shapes like my wardrobe, and my mind begins to find a foothold in reality again.

You’re in your room. You’re not back there. Breathe. Breathe.

I focus on my breathing and slowly my attention is drawn to other parts of my body; like my fingers, which currently have a white-knuckle grip on my blanket; or my face, which is red-hot despite the sickly feeling of cold sweat running over my body in chills.

My fingers are stiff when I try to flex them and release the bunched-up fabric, but once I do, I feel the pressure in my chest begin to ease. My hand reaches up to drag itself down my face and comes away damp. I scrub harder at my eyes, trying to erase any trace of tears. You’d think I’d be all cried out by now…guess not.

Adjusting my legs is an effort but it helps to relax my body further, or at least it would if something else didn’t feel wrong; not alarmingly wrong just…odd. Then I realise, it’s the feeling of the mattress dipping beside me. I turn my head and feel an instant wave of relief when I see Marco sleeping soundly next to me. 

You’re not alone.

It all slowly comes back to me – our phone call this evening and everything that followed. A surge of affection and gratitude ripples through me and I let my body turn fully towards the source of it.

The moonlight streaming through the gap in the curtain illuminates him just enough to make out his beautiful, serene face; that strong jawline that still has a softness to it, those freckled cheekbones and matching nose, those soft round lips…he’s sculpture-perfect. Part of me desperately wants to run my fingers through his hair again, but I’d never forgive myself if I disturbed how peaceful he looks now.

My pulse slows as I watch his drowsy form bob up and down and I focus on my breathing until it syncs up with his. It’s amazing how much he grounds me, even in slumber. The sound of my own breath going in and out, panic-inducing only moments ago, now acts as a comfort...something that tethers us both together. I breathe with him and feel calm.

My eyes grow heavier and I let the rhythm of his steady inhales and exhales lull me back to sleep.

______________________________________________

A snippet of birdsong gently wakes me on Saturday morning. I keep my eyes closed as other sounds come into focus – the breeze rustling the tree outside my window, a car rumbling up the street. I breathe deeply through my nose and sigh softly.

“Mmmm.”

I could get used to this – waking up with the calming scent of Marco all around me. He smells like a forest on a summer day – like a mixture of rich earth, fragrant herbs and wildflowers, but in the evening when everything is still warm and the sun’s just beginning to set. It’s unbelievably comforting.

I crave more of it, so I snuggle my nose in closer and take another deep breath, letting it out slowly with a satisfied hum. It’s warm, too warm with him pressed against my chest, but I can’t find it in me to care, tightening the grip I have around his waist.

He shifts against me with a sleepy huff and I feel myself drifting back towards the unconscious.

“Jean?”

He pats the hand I have on his stomach, pulling me back from the brink of slumber.

“Jean?”

Fine, I’m awake…sort of. “Mmm.”

“Jean…erm.”

I lift my head and squint a sleepy eye at him. “Hmm?”

He twists to look over his shoulder at me. His cheeks are bright red. Why does he look so awkward?

I lift my head and squint a sleepy eye at him. “Hmm?”

He twists to look over his shoulder at me. His cheeks are bright red. Why does he look so awkward?

“Oh!” I slam face first into reality when I realise what I’m doing and scrabble back over to my side of the bed. “Sorry man! I didn’t…sorry.”

Fuck! What the fuck were you thinking!?

Christ I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve fucked things up. Everything that happened between us yesterday and I go ruin it all by acting like a total creep in my sleep. I am so fucking lucky I don’t have morning wood!

His cheeks are still red when he rolls over to face me. I’m about to start babbling another apology but as he sits up, an amused grin starts to tug at his lips. “It’s fine Jean don’t worry about it. I like a cheeky cuddle as much as the next guy,” he chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

My cheeks burn hotter than the sun. At least he’s not mad or freaking out though. “Sorry. I guess I get a bit, err, ‘spoony’ in my sleep.”

Apparently.

“Sheesh, you could’ve warned me before I agreed to share a bed with you,” he teases, his grin turning into an all-out smirk.

“I didn’t know I was gonna-! Shut up!” I squawk, smacking him with my pillow. “Bet you loved it anyway!”

Laughing at my obvious embarrassment, he holds up a hand to defend himself against my vicious attack. I’m starting to think I’ve had the last word, but then he looks at me and smiles in a way that screams ‘up to no good’.

“You’re right Jean. I’m sorry. Let’s hug it out.”

“Ah!”

At first I succeed in shoving him away him away, but then before I can comprehend what’s happening, he launches himself forward again and pins me to the bed, lying sideways across my stomach and trapping my arms either side.

“Ahh! What the hell!” I wriggle and kick but he’s strong and it gets me nowhere.

“Sorry,” he grins up at me from my stomach, “Do you only like hugging me when I’m unconscious?”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“No you don’t,” he chirps with an ungodly amount of glee for this time in the morning, moving off me and jumping up from the bed before I can retaliate.

I feel like my cheeks are starting to calm down, but then he turns to stretch his arms up, and all the blood comes rushing right back again. I’d almost forgotten how ridiculously good his arse looks in those tight Cookie Monster boxers. And if that wasn’t enough to set my face ablaze, I also catch a peek of the cutest fucking back dimples when his t-shirt rides up.

Welp.

After a few satisfying shoulder clicks, he turns to grab his phone from the bedside table.

“Hey, do you know which buses run from here to South Trost?” he asks, shaking me out of my staring.

“Buses?”

“You sure you’re awake? Yeah buses. You know, those big metal things with four wheels and lots of people inside,” he snarks, eyes glinting and a smirk tickling his lips.

“I know what a fucking bus is Mr Sassy Pants!” He sniggers cheekily when I scoot over to shove him in the arm. “Why do you need to know?”

“‘Cos I need to go home and get changed first, remember?”

I stare at him with knitted eyebrows until my sleep-addled brain catches up. “Marco, I’m not letting you get the bus you dumb-dumb. I’m giving you a lift!”

“What? No. Jean it’s your day off, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Getting the bus is a pain in the arse from here Marco. It’ll only take me ten minutes to drive to yours and then I’ll drop you at work.”

He chews his lip. I’m just about to argue with him but the offer must start to tempt him. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” he asks with an apologetic expression.

“’Course not it’s no problem. Although…after the bullying I’ve received this morning, I’m tempted to make you walk home.”

He chuckles at my teasing. “No, please. Don’t make me pull the puppy dog eyes on you.”

“Try me. They can’t be that convincing.”

Marco drops his head down, and when he looks back up I swear it’s like that moment in Shrek with Puss in Boots. His big brown eyes look close to tears and his bottom lip sticks out and trembles. It’s a good job Marco’s a kind person, because I imagine he could convince anyone to do anything with that look. I’m half tempted to fall to my knees myself and vow to do whatever he commands.

Instead I just laugh, “Okay I take it back. It’s fairly decent.”

“Told you. Seriously though thanks for the lift,” he says sincerely. “I won’t need to rush around as much now. D’you mind if I have quick shower? Saying as I’ll have more time to get ready?”

The thought of Marco having a shower makes my voice squeak like a total dork when reply, “N-no! ‘Course not. Erm, here.” I stagger to my feet to retrieve a towel from the top of my wardrobe. “Just help yourself to any shower gel or whatever.”

“M’kay. Thanks mate.”

He strides off towards the bathroom and I allow myself the pleasure of watching him go before flopping down to the mattress with a huff. Still feeling a little flustered from the spooning and the wrestling and…everything, I take a moment to lie starfish in the middle of my bed.

Okay, so that happened. You spooned Marco. Lucky for you he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

As awkward as my snuggling was, it really was nice to be close to him like that. God, imagine what it would be like to wake up with him every morning, with his warm, solid torso in my arms. I roll over to his side of the bed and rest my face on his pillow. It still smells like him. I inhale deeply but…it doesn’t have a calming effect this time. Instead, it draws my attention to a hollow sensation in my stomach and an ache in my chest.

Ugh. Maybe I was better off not knowing how he feels in my arms. Maybe having a taste of ‘what ifs’ and ‘could bes’ is worse than living in ignorance, because now I know exactly what I’m missing.

The annoying thing is, I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. I was the one who asked him to stay over, I was the one that invited him to sleep in my bed and I was the unconscious idiot that wrapped myself around him like a damn octopus.

Great going Kirschtein.

I’d rather Marco didn’t find me lying in bed clutching his pillow and looking like a kicked puppy, so I drag myself out of bed and head into the kitchen to put the kettle on. I assume Marco will appreciate some breakfast before we go, so I poke about in the fridge and cupboards to see what our options are.

“Gooooood morning!”

“Jesus! Fuck!”

Apparently Connie has the power of teleportation, because I swear he just fucking appears next to me.

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me you dick!” I yell, swatting him across the head when he laughs at me.

“Ow! I didn’t! Not my fault you were in your own little world.” Then his ears prick up and look out the door. “Is someone in the shower? Oh my god did you pick someone up last night!?”

“No, Connie it’s just-”

“Is it someone from work? Did you pick up a hunky fireman!? C’mon Jean who is it?” he babbles.

“It’s Marco!” I say exasperated.

His reaction is fucking weird. He just freezes and blinks at me.

“You’re fucking Marco?”

“Wha- ?? No!! The hell is wrong with you!?”

He ducks away from another head swat.

“I dunno!? I just thought- Well why did he stay over then?”

“We didn’t plan it on it! He just came over to hang out and it got a bit late so I offered. Is that okay Mam?”

“Alright touchy don’t get ya knickers in twist!”

I will tell Connie what happened at work yesterday – I know he’ll be really understanding – but now does not feel like that moment. I’ll tell him later when he’s not flapping about someone being in our shower.

“D’you want a coffee?” I ask to change the subject.

“Yeah go on then.”

He hops up onto a breakfast stool and rubs his hands down his face, his muffled yawn sounding something like a dying mongoose.

“Work alright last night?” I ask.

“Meh, not bad. New person is a bit serious though.”

“New person?”

“Yeah, Yelena. They’re only doing Fridays and Saturdays. No bloody craic though. Thank god Thomas was working too.”

“Maybe they’re just shy or something,” I say, turning to place a steaming mug in front of Connie.

“Yeah, maybe.” I’ve just let go of the handle when Connie puts his palms on my cheeks and squishes them. “I sure do miss working with my little Jeanbo though!”

“Ger’ off!” I cry, half scowling half smiling.

He chuckles at me. “How’s your training been this week? I feel like I’ve barely seen you.”

My stomach sinks into my feet. “Oh…well, erm.”

“Hey man! You alright?”

Thankfully Marco saves me from a conversation I’m not quite ready for when he enters the kitchen. He’s put on his clothes from yesterday (so no awkward spluttering from me) but still has a towel around his shoulders to catch any drips from his hair. It looks longer – I guess he’s taking my advice about growing it. The thought makes me smile.

“Alright?” Connie smiles. “How’s your head?”

“No complaints yet mate!”

What the hell?

“Have I missed something?” I ask to interrupt their laughter.

“Yeah you missed Marco cracking his head off the kitchen cupboard at Eren’s the other night. I’ve never heard him swear so much in one breath.”

“Oh, haha.” My laugh sounds really disingenuous and I regret it instantly. I hate this side of me - the petty jealous side that comes out just because something Marco-related happened without me. “You didn’t split your head open did you?” I ask quickly, hoping to mask my odd laugh with genuine concern.

“Nah, still got a bit of a lump though. Here, feel.” He cocks his head to the side as an invitation for me to prod his head but I freeze, remembering just how much I enjoyed running my fingers through his hair last night.

“Oh erm,” I try to be gentle without making it weirdly intimate, running my fingertips over his head until I find the lump near his crown. “Oooh yeah, quite a bump you’ve got there!”

“It was classic,” Connie grins.

“So sympathetic as always Con.”

“What? Friends hurting themselves is funny. I don’t make the rules!”

Quick as anything, I take the teaspoon I was using to mix Marco’s coffee and whack Connie on the head with it.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“Guess you’re right, it is pretty funny.”

“Ow Jesus! It was still hot from the fucking coffee you dick!” he squeaks, rubbing his head while Marco and I chuckle at his expense.

“D’you want some breakfast?” I ask Marco with a smile, ignoring Connie’s continued complaining.

The three of us sit at the breakfast bar enjoying our toast and cereal, having a laugh and talking crap. It’s nice to do this with Connie included. He was right when he said he’s barely seen me. I guess I’ve been too wrapped up in my own head to realise I’ve kind of missed him.

I duck out of the room to put some proper clothes on and we bid Connie farewell soon after. The streets are pretty quiet with it being a Saturday morning, so it takes barely anytime at all to get to Eren’s – or I guess Eren and Marco’s as it’s now known.

Eren’s up and playing Mario Kart when we arrive. After offering a quick hello, Marco heads off to get changed and I flop down next to Eren, grabbing the second controller.

“What'd you do? Slip him a roofie or something?”

“You what?”

“Getting him to stay over. Bet you thought all your Christmases had come at once.”

“Fucking shut up will you!” I snap, keeping my voice as low as possible and shoving him with my elbow. “He’ll hear you!”

He starts to laugh but it quickly turns into screechy complaining when I land a shell right in his path.

“Serves you fucking right…knob.”

I snag the first victory but Marco still hasn’t appeared, so we go for another game.

“You got any plans today? After you’ve dropped Marco off?” he asks.

“No. Why?”

“I’m heading into town to pick up a few things. Wouldn’t mind the company if you fancy it.”

I’m not daft. Part of me knows he’s just desperate to get the gossip on Marco staying over last night, but if I’m honest it would be nice to talk to someone about what’s going on – not just with Marco but with work too.

“Yeah go on then. I could do with picking up a few things myself.”

“Sound.”

Then Freckles re-enters the room. “Hey, I’m good to go.”

Godammit. Why does Marco look so frickin’ cute in his work uniform? It’s literally just a black polo with a logo! Though I’m guessing my opinion on his adorability has less to do with what he’s wearing and more to do with the 100-watt smile he’s throwing my way right now.

“Cool. I’m finished kicking this one’s arse anyway.”

“First time for everything bitch,” Eren smirks. He jabs me in the butt with his foot as I stand up, which I promptly yank, almost pulling him off the sofa. “Ahh no!”

All three of us laugh but Marco’s seems a little awkward for some reason. He does that nervous neck scratch and looks away from both of us. Weird. Maybe he’s still finding his feet with Eren and doesn’t feel comfortable taking the piss out of him the way I do.

“Should I swing by when I’ve dropped Marco off or meet you in town?”

“Just swing by. I’ll start getting ready soon.”

“Okay later.”

“Later. Have a good day at work Marco.”

“Thanks mate,” he replies and follows me down the stairs and out the front door.

Marco says nothing for the first few minutes of the journey, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something on his mind; there’s a definite shift in the atmosphere between us. I drive in silence while my brain whirrs with possible causes, but I quickly realise my lack of conversation is making things worse.

“So what time-“

“Hey thank-“

We glance at each other sheepishly and I break first. “Sorry Marco, what were you saying?”

“Just err…I wanted to say thanks for last night. For letting me stay over and...what you said about Floch and stuff…it really helped.”

“Oh! Yeah of course. Anytime. Though I feel like I should be thanking you more for coming over, and y’know…babysitting me.”

I force an awkward laugh. Marco’s not having any of it though. “You don’t have to do that,” he says seriously.

My eyes flick nervously between his and the road in front. “What?”

“Make it sound like you were overreacting or something. You’re more than allowed to need your friends after going through what you did you know?”

Images of the crash flicker through my mind so I double down on my concentration, focusing on the streets of Trost, which are busier and more hazardous now that I’m nearing the city centre.

“Yeah…I know. I just mean, I really appreciate you coming over and…staying.”

“Anytime.” I hear the fondness in his voice before I turn and see it beaming out of his face. The last of the uneasy atmosphere disappears completely as I turn back to the road with a smile.

“Am I okay dropping you at the end of this street? I think I’m gonna struggle to get any closer with all the one-way systems.”

“Sure, anywhere is fine.”

When I stop, he twists in my direction to unclip his belt and I feel like, in another world or another timeline, this would be when I lean in for a quick kiss and wish him a good day. As it is, I settle for just the latter.

“Thanks,” he replies climbing out the car. “Look after yourself today alright? And if you need anything just drop me a text or something okay?”

“I will, but don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Thanks for the lift.”

He flashes me another one of those 100-watt smiles and I melt into a puddle in the footwell.

“No worries. Catch you later.”

There’s no traffic behind me, and it’s just as well given how long I sit in my car staring after him. Even from the back he’s gorgeous.

There’s a tug in stomach as I watch him turn the last corner and move out of sight, but it’s not exactly uncomfortable. It’s a pleasant sort of discomfort. Just as well really - I can’t imagine it’s going away any time soon.

#jean x marco #jean x marco fanfic #jeanmarco #jeanmarco fanfic #jean kirschtien #marco bodt #jean kirstein #Marco Bott #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #fic: you had me at b minor #aot fandom #attack on titan fandom #snk fandom #shingeki no kyojin fandom #AoT #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin

[manifesting-mari]

Morning Pages 1/24/2023

This morning for my meditation i listened to Mantra Loops Vol. 1 and tried to lock into the energy of the different songs. I could feel the healing energy of the music and the higher vibes of the messages, but i also felt the heavier feelings. The holding on to cycles and the pain. Holding on to victimhood. I remember at one of David’s talks he said that the trauma releases you in its own time. And i always wondered why people say “release your pain” when the pain releases on its own. Its a relationship. Its both. If youre still holding onto the pain. Even if its done with its cycle youll still be perpetuating it. And if you choose to let go, when its ready to release it will. 

I also noticed the ways I still associate my value and worth with how much money I have or the kind of job I have. I can see and feel the value judgements still cycling. I can hear my parents voices and Greg’s voice in my head. Even my own voice. Where did i get this idea of “better” and “worse”? Why do I still have these judgements playing out inside of me? 

Since the age of 25 i’ve been on a mission to learn how to love myself and its lead me to where i’m at right now. Im my house, on my couch, in the beginning of a work day. I can feel the value judgements around that. Im trying to go back to that time when i decided that i should really start loving myself. I remember kevin had just told me that he had feelings for another person, and i told him to choose her because i was broken. And the next day i was at the gym and i remember thurga texting me that what i needed to do was start loving myself. I had no idea even how to start doing that. What did loving myself look like? Feel like?

At that moment i decided to start treating myself the way I treat my friends. To start talking to myself better. To start being more forgiving. To start rooting for myself and standing up for myself the way i did for my friends. I’d say that was step one. Acting as if. Thats part of the manifestation techniques. Acting as if you already are. But acting and believing are two different things. As some who could disassociate and still function, i could act out all these things, act confident, act like i dont care, act lovingly, but not truly believe those things. Because i wanted to make the authority figures in my life happy, i got really got at observing what a “good person” did and how their actions were received. I got really good at “acting as if” when i was a kid. Acting as if i wasnt sad. Acting as if i wasnt angry. Acting as if i wasn’t a horny kid. I got really good at being a “good girl” that I actually wa sone. I do enjoy making people feel loved and comfortable as themselves and making them feel happy and cared for. But i had a really hard time turning that light onto myself in a sincere and authentic way.

The uber confidence and aggression I had in my late teens and early 20’s came from this want and need to be bigger but then the frustration of still not being fully received. I understand now that the frustration ive felt and still feel now is because i am unable to hold space for myself to be fully received in an authentic way. I hate being fake with people, but i have to admit that when i was younger i would lie. I would obviously lie to authority figures so i wouldnt get in trouble and i would  hyperbolize or punch up stories to make myself more interesting. In my childhood and my teen years I wanted to be “good” and “better than”. In College i wanted to shock and awe. I wanted to be the fullest expression of whoever i thought i was and say “i dont care what people think of me”. When really i did. I cared a lot if people liked me but i would deny it and become cold. I see the ways where I was so mean to people when that was just projected frustration. I was frustrated because i felt as if i wasn’t being seen by others, when I wasn;t fully seeing myself. 

My late 20’s i used other people in order to be loved. I remember when Kevin said he actually wanted to date me, I was disconnected from my body. I dont know what I was actually feeling, but i did feel activated in some way. Here someone saying the want to be with me when i didn’t even wanna be with me. Heres someone who wanted to try loving me and i wanted to try being loved. I didn’t do it well. I really did love that man. I cared for him and wanted him to be happy. Thats why i ended things. He would have stayed in a relationship where he wasn;t valued. Im sad to say that i didnt value him the way he deserved. Because i didnt even value myself. He saw this whole world and a future in me, and i didnt see it in him. I saw my life playing out and he was just playing a role. I really didnt feel like home with him. I see the ways where he really cared for me. And i understand why. I gave him the basic love and care he deserved when no one else was. And when i was no longer in his life he realized that i was the only one he could get it from. The thing is, i was releasing my dependency on others and thats how that relationship ended. I didnt need him, but he needed me. 

My relationship with Kevin taught me that i am a person deserving of love, even if i get it wrong sometimes. That I am someone who is loving and caring and worthy of having a partner. My heart still breaks for the ways i hurt kevin and the pain i inflicted on him. I was not in a good spot and I am sad that it ended teh way it did. But i was happy at one point. I had everything i wanted. But i wasn’t fully happy. There was still this emptiness that I was trying to fill. I could not see myself being monogamous with Kevin and i can now feel and see the ways that he only opened up the relationship because he needed me to be in his life. He probably felt as if he needed to mold himself into my life and my lifestyle and he was happy to do it. I was not happy with him doing it. I was not happy. Im still sad it ended, but i know that it was the right and bets decision. 

Looking back on my relationship with greg, im happy that he ended it. Im happy he saw what i couldnt. He truly loved me more than i loved myself. And i loved him more than i loved myself. I knew that. I knew I was lacking self love and needed to really focus on loving myself. But unfortunately my shit was triggering his shit and we were unable to walk those paths together. We were unable to hold space and integrate each others experiences. Or maybe we did and it ended up that it was too uncomfortable, too much work, i dont know. Looking back now, almost one year since he ended things, i can see how the ending fo that relationship sparked a really deep dive into my relationship with myself. Its just so much easier to love myself in community than by myself.  Maybe happy it ended isnt the word. Or Maybe it is. I think glad and grateful are better words. Because im still sad about it. 11 months later im still sad hes not in my life. My heart still breaks over it. Even with people in my life who are more aligned and who are more present for my experience, I’m still sad he’s no longer in my life. Thats a loss that im still struggling with on top of the loss of my father. 

I dont like loss. I dont like losing things. And i guess thats something I have to get used to in this ever changing world. Maybe i dont have to like it. Maybe i can just accept this is a part of life and accept that these are the feelings that come with it. 

Now i can say that I truly love myself so much more than ever. Its not more acting as if. I can truly feel the move within myself and i thank the spirit of Aya for that gift of knowing. Like, i look at myself the way someone would look at their little sister. I look at my mistakes and fumbles the way someone would look at a toddler trying to walk. I look at my future self the way youd be inspired by an older cousin or role model. Future me inspires me. And even current me inspires me. I look at myself now and when the self deprecating stuff comes up, i give it love. I love the immaturity and allow it to be what it wants to be, knowing that i judgements and criticisms hold as much weight as i allow them to on any given day. I see myself trying really hard to be compassionate with every part of me. The ways i try to stick to my practice, i am trying, sometimes i feel like im trying really hard. But other times i can see the ease come in. i can allow myself to relax and welcome any feelings, joy, excitement, worry, fear, anger, horniness. Theyre all welcomed because they are all a part of me. I no longer have to act like a version of myself. I just get to be me and just being me is someone who is worth loving and someone who is loved. I am loved and valued and worthy by being exactly who i am.

#morning pages #the artists way

[psitrend]

Interview with Heng Yue, tattoo artist

New Post has been published on https://china-underground.com/2020/09/25/heng-yue-tattoo-artist-interview/

Interview with Heng Yue, tattoo artist

Heng Yue is a Chinese tattoo artist born in Yueyang, Hunan.

He is the owner of “New Assassin Tattoo Xincike Studio”（岳阳新刺客）.

He has been struggling throughout his life. Since his childhood, Yue spent his enthusiasm on kinds of art, painting, calligraphy, and Zhuan Seal Script (a typical official character in very early Chinese history, AD 1st Century), implying his association with tattoo art in his fate. After a whole diversified career experience, he was deeply intrigued by tattoo art. Since then, he decided to devote himself to Chinese tattoo art. Yue’s style is a mix of innovation and realism. He custom-made every tattoo for each client. That’s why his works are so attractive. Yue thinks of tattoos as unvarying body art and treats every job, every customer with his heart and soul. 

Related articles: 90+ Chinese tattoo symbols with meanings, Zhuo Dan Ting, China’s Queen of Tattoos, Interview with tattoo artist Chen Jie

Instagram | Facebook

What made you want to become a tattooist? What do tattoos mean to you?

When I was young, I had a strong interest in Chinese calligraphy and seal cutting, but I didn’t have any relevant learning and training. I had a lot of careers before I started tattooing.

I started as a tattoo artist to support my family, but as my career began, I gradually found that I liked it more and more, and I began to study it more and more.

What about the first tattoo on your skin?

My first tattoo was a mask of Prajna.

How long have you been a tattoo artist? Can you tell us a bit about your beginning?

I’ve been doing tattoos for 17 years. In the beginning, I came into contact with an informal tattoo shop, but later, after I learn to do tattoos, I get self-taught.

His mantra says “With my artwork, any inch of your tattooed skin would find the value of beauty, and every single time, I throw all myself in!”

Awesome tattoos by Heng Yue are massive pieces of body art

Do you remember the first person you tattooed? What did you tattoo?

Of course, I made a totem to represent the sun.

Have your techniques changed since you started tattooing? Can you tell us about the kind of tattoos that you enjoy most to work on?

Technology changes almost every year, and of course, it’s an upward state. I prefer the realistic type, which is more creative and has a strong texture.

How much do you think tattoos are a private thing, and how much are they a public thing, to show for others?

I think it’s the individual opinion of each person.

What are the changes that you’ve seen in the last years? Is there still a stigma attached to tattoos?

It’s been a normal development over the last few years, and our attitude towards tattoos is becoming more open and accepting.

Some of the bad opinions about tattoos are now almost rare, and few people have such opinions about tattoos.

Yue heavily communicate with his clients, since a tattoo is for a whole life.

Do you think nowadays there still is a rebellious element to getting tattooed?

I think tattoos have always had an element of rebellion, which is the own characteristic of tattoos.

He likes to present realistic feeling in his work by focusing on details and variation of bone, muscle, and skin.

Do you think social media has changed the tattoo world or introduced particular trends? Do social have contributed to the proliferation of tattoos, making them more mainstream?

 For some policy reasons, social media has not really helped the development of tattoos in China, especially in recent years.

The development of the Internet enables due to technology to communicate and learn more quickly, and it also helps tattoo artists to develop and improve their skills more quickly.

He loves to design the work based on client thought, preference, style, characteristics, emotion, and belief. He doesn’t give opinions, he just listens. After, he starts to make a design, blending to the picture in their mind.

Can you share with us any meaningful story behind your work?

My works are designed on-site after communication-based on the ideas of each client. It can be said that each work actually has its underlying meaning. The whole design idea, the creative process, and the story behind it are always very, very long.

Because of some language problems, I cannot explain this part of the content except than Chinese for the moment.

Photo courtesy of Heng Yue

#ChineseTattooArtist, #Tattoos

#chinese tattoo artist #tattoos

[mariacallous]

Okay I thought eating some starburst jellybeans would help but it did not.

I am not spending money tonight. I am not spending money tonight.

#I mean I’ve also been using the mantra ‘I will get the job I want and I will be able to move with no issues’ #but maybe ‘I will not spend money tonight’ will be more successful

[clairecrive]

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fluff #nikolai lanstov blurb

[positivexcellence]

Q&A With Austin’s Own Jared Padalecki and Your Walker Texas Ranger!

Jared, tell us about Walker – you had your first season last year in the middle of COVID and it was a roaring success and now you are back for a second season.

It has been quite a ride! I am a Texan, born and bread, so it is amazing to be able to be back in Austin filming, and to be able to come home to my family each night. I filmed Supernatural in Vancouver for 15 incredible years, but the travel and being away from home definitely took its toll. So, it’s great to be back promoting the local filming scene and producing Walker. Also, its been an honor to put my own spin on this version of Walker, in a unique and human way that the anyone can really connect to. He is just a guy doing a job, raising his family, and taking on life’s unforeseen obstacles the best he can. Not perfect, but trying to see people as fellow humans as opposed to just kicking in doors. I think that is something we all can relate to.

Your wife Gen seems quite busy with the 3 kids, her new environmental focused platform TOWWN and many charitable and social cause events about town.

She is a dynamo! People think I have a busy life, until they meet Gen. She is the glue that holds this house together no doubt, while also having jobs and passion-projects of her own. When I was on my covid-hiatus before wrapping up Supernatural, she was the one that introduced me to a brand new nutrition company here in Austin – MANTRA Labs – and it changed my life. I caught up on my sleep (sleeping better than ever with their REST formula), was able to stay energized throughout the day with RISE, and work on getting back into shape and recover faster with GO. I know it sounds like an advertisement – but this stuff just works!

That’s right, you joined MANTRA Labs and helped grow it in the middle of all this and it is gaining quite a reputation. Tell us about MANTRA Labs and why it is important to you.

Well, given my career, I’ve been sent products from just about any brand and company you can think of, all wanting me to endorse them publicly. I would try them out, and just not experience the kinds of results I hoped for while working towards my goals and lifestyle. MANTRA was different – I loved what the company stood for and what they were setting out to achieve, the products were tasty, easy, and effective, and their specific focus on the importance of mental health was something I directly connected to. I workout to “feel” good these days, not to “look” good. Mental health is not just important to me, but to society in general, and our nutrition and “wellness” companies almost always ignored it. MANTRA was different. When I met Paul Janowitz, who started it up, we hit it off, and I knew this was a company that I wanted to be a part of. It had meaning, it had purpose, and it had incredible products. So, we went into business together, and started getting the word out there about the product, about the fact that fitness is for everyone, and that everyone deserves good nutrition. We stress that mental health IS health. It’s been a lot of time spent, but every second has been a blast!

I appreciate you letting me share this story, because MANTRA Labs is important to me, and when we hear from our customers what our brand means to them, what our positive mental messaging means, and how the product has changed lives, well it doesn’t get any better than that.

Let’s talk fitness! What does your routine look like?

Routine – what routine? Hahah. Life is chaotic, and self-care is so important. I’ve realized that routines help allow that to happen. I am as guilty as the next person of not focusing on this enough. From all my years traveling, and training for roles, I try to keep things simple and accessible. That means lots of body weight workouts, home cooked whole food meals (when possible) and super clean supplements to help make up for gaps, or long, whacky schedules.  That is what drew me to MANTRA Labs – the products were plant-based, natural and helped ensure I got the nutrition that my mind and body needed at each critical part of the day. That simple routine was a game changer for me. It helps me get up and get going, get a workout in, stay energized on set, and then unwind, relax and fall asleep. Just hitting those basics with RISE, GO and REST, and then using our new HYDRATE powder to get and remain hydrated – that really makes a difference in my day.

Speaking of HYDRATE, I gotta talk more about this…  HYDRATE is our newest product and I LOVE it. We worked on and developed this product for a year. It has 3x the electrolytes, 72 trace minerals, prebiotic fiber, vitamins and zero sugar – all while tasting amazing. There is nothing like it on the market and we’re SO proud of it. Gen uses it every day, the kiddos love it (and drink so much more water now), and i’m feeling better than ever, even though my workload has skyrocketed.

Thanks so much for your time!!!

Austin Fit

#Jared Padalecki

[biconderoga]

Scenario: Itadori never shut up about Y/N, so it was only right Megumi told her what happened. Spoilers for Episode 4⚠️

Word Count: 850

Part 2: Here

“I’m surprised you’ve already moved into the dorms. Don’t you have friends to say goodbye to?”

“Oh my senpais?” Itadori rubbed his chin, “I’ve only known them for a few months, so it wasn’t that heartfelt…I do have a girlfriend.” Itadori laughed as Megumi’s eyes widened, “We were both bummed that we had to go long distance. But she was okay with it.”

Megumi hummed in understanding, “It’s surprising you have a girlfriend. Did you tell her exactly what happened?”

“Nah, she doesn’t need that stress. I just said my inheritance from my gramps let me apply to some fancy private school.”

“Makes sense.”

Itadori threw his head back, “Mannn you would love her! She’s got the prettiest smile. Oh, and! She makes killer food, we should eat at her place sometime. Introduce her to ya!”

The stutter of the subway cart knocked Megumi out of his thoughts. These days he just couldn’t seem to stop reminiscing. Megumi had barely knew him for a month, yet it seemed as if Itadori made a lasting impression on him. If Megumi was this distraught over his death, he could only imagine how his girlfriend would react. God, he couldn’t get used to announcing a loved ones death. It was a rather common occurrence for a jujutsu shaman, yet Megumi could not get used to it. He attempted to act indifferent, but the cries for a lost loved one only made his heart heavier.

With a huff, Megumi grabbed his bouquet of flowers and stepped off of the subway. He hoped Y/N would ask to be alone, his emotionally withdrawn self would hate to have to comfort her.

“Godddd I can’t believe Gojou-sensei dumped this on us!!” Itadori growled, “I was supposed to see Y/N today!”

Megumi rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last time, that Gojou would dump a job onto his ‘precious’ students. If Gojou wasn’t his superior, Megumi would tell him to shove a stick up his ass.

“Oh? Who’s Y/N?” Kugisaki tapped her chin, “A family member?”

Itadori proudly smiled, “Nope she’s my girlfriend! We were supposed to catch a movie.”

“I’m surprised a blockhead like you has a girlfriend.”

Megumi’s eyebrow twitched, now she’s done it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?! We love each other very much!”

Deep breathes in and out. In and out…Megumi continued this mental mantra several more times. He had to at least look calm, a distraught stranger would only scare Y/N more. With a final breath, Megumi knocked on her door.

“Coming!”

“…shit.” Megumi’s hands clammed up as he wondered if it would be bad if he just ran.

“Ah! You must be Fushiguro,” Y/N grabbed Megumi’s hands as they smiled, “Yuuji talks about you a lot! Come in, come in.”

Of course Itadori spoke of him a lot, he was selfless like that. Megumi was ushered into Y/N’s abode, and like a fish out of water his mouth opened and closed. She really was kind, and he knew he already liked her. But…how was he supposed to break the news?

“Please don’t tell me this was Yuuji’s idea. I hope he isn’t trying to enter through my window, I started to lock it after he thought it was okay to sneak in while I was in the shower.”

“He,” Megumi swallowed thickly, “He’s dead.”

The once warm atmosphere of Y/N’s home suddenly froze over. He should’ve been prepared for this, yet Megumi still flinched. What terrified him the most, however, was Y/N’s downcast gaze. An outburst wouldn’t be surprising, it was his fault after all. He would surely be mad if a stranger announced the death of his significant other.

“I-when...?”

“Yesterday. I would’ve came and told you sooner, but I was also injured.”

“N-no it’s fine, thank you.” Y/N took in a haggard breath as she seated herself, “God I should’ve asked him more questions…he’s been a bit secretive since his grandfather passed. I thought it was just him mourning. I’m such an idiot!” Y/N slowly raised her head to face Megumi, “H-how did it happen?”

“I’m not sure if he’d want you to know, but he did die with a smile on his face. He told me he hoped we’d live long lives.”

“Of course he did.” A biter laugh escaped her lips, “That’s my dumbass all right.”

An awkward silence ensnared the duo. It was tense, and Megumi shifted his weight between his legs in hopes of alleviating it. “Here’s some flowers, I wish I could’ve brought you something more personal from his room.”

“No, no…it’s fine.” Y/N gingerly received the flowers, “I just wish I could’ve been with him.”

As this exchange happened, another rather peculiar one occurred in a laboratory.

“H-h-he’s ALIVE?!”

“Yo!” Itadori waved, “Woah full nude.”

“What a shame…” Ieiri pulled her mask down as she witnessed the whole ordeal.

“Woah lady! Only Y/N can see this!” In an awkward attempt, Itadori fumbled to cover his lower regions with his hands, “I’m saving myself for her!”

Ieiri rolled her eyes, “I’ll get you something to cover yourself with.”

#imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #yuuji itadori #angst #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori imagine #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk yuuji #sukuna

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

[lunar-wandering]

Eventide

bet yall thought i forgot about the Sunset Wukong AU didnt you

jokes on you, i didn’t.

welcome to Macaque’s intro, aka me kinda just rewriting episode 9-

Word Count: 1.5k

Read on Ao3

-

"You know, when I found out that I was going to be trained by Monkey King, the 'Great Sage, Equal to Heaven', I had no idea.... that I'd be stuck here, hammering walls 12 hours a day!" MK yelled, throwing the hammer off to the side, ignoring the loud crash it made as it hit the ground, turning to glare at Wukong. "Why am I doing this again?"

"First of all, it's only been 2 hours, not 12." Wukong said, casually leaning against a nearby pillar. "Secondly, it's so that I can make a neat little breakfast nook."

"But I'm meant to be the Monkie Kid, not Construction Boy, and besides, this barely counts as practice!" MK said, crossing his arms with an annoyed huff. "How am I meant to defeat demons if I don't know any of the fighting...stuff."

"Oh, so you want to learn the 'fighting stuff', huh?" Wukong said, pushing off the pillar and picking up the staff from where MK had left it laying on the ground. "You mean like....this?"

MK barely managed to duck down and dodge as the staff proceeded to go sailing over his head, hitting the wall hard enough to break it and leave a sizeable hole in it.

"Yes! Exactly like that-" MK paused mid-excited ramble as he registered the wince on Wukong's face, as well as how the Monkey King had placed one hand behind his back. MK sighed, the excited energy leaving almost as fast as it had came. "Monkey King, I've told you multiple times that we could move training to nighttime, after sunset."

"It's fine, it's fine, you need your rest." Wukong said, waving away MK's concern, at the same time revealing exactly what MK's had suspected, that the tips of Wukong's fingers had turned to stone. "Besides, you're not ready for that kind of stuff yet anyways."

"But I am ready! What's smacking a wall going to teach me anyways?"

"Look, I'm never going to teach you something you don't need to know, okay?" Wukong said, sighing. "Anyways, this wall isn't going to destroy itself. Remember, step into the strike-"

MK's phone rang.

-

MK climbed over the edge of the building, a whole rant already building in his mind.

"Monkey King, I swear, I know it's sunset, but we have told you so many times not to use your powers during the day-" MK cut himself off once he got a good look at the monkey standing before him. "...Oh. This is awkward. You're not... Monkey King."

"Heh, I get that a lot." The monkey said, giving a nervous laugh. "The names Macaque, Six Eared Macaque, although that's more of a nickname really.... nevermind that, you're the Monkie Kid, MK, right?"

"...How'd you know?" MK asked, suspicious. Macaque gave an airy chuckle.

"Not exactly everyone can wield that staff, kid." He said, turning and starting to walk away. "Anyways, I should go-"

"Can you teach me that cool move you did?!" MK blurted out, almost as shocked as Macaque himself was at the sudden question. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to ask, but as it was he wasn't getting any stronger right now, and this powerful monkey didn't have a curse that turned him to stone in the daylight, so... "Please?"

Macaque eyed the horizon for a moment before responding.

"Isn't Wukong teaching you?" He said, and when MK looked nervous, followed it up with, "But I suppose you can never have too many teachers, right? I'm sure Monkey King wouldn't mind...."

And so, Macaque wormed his way into MK's weekly schedule.

Oddly enough, Macaque, like Wukong, insisted on never training MK during the night, but MK was fine with that, as Macaque was actually teaching him, unlike Wukong, who continued to simply make MK slam a hammer against a wall, day after day. Going back and forth between both training sessions, and his job of delivering noodles was no easy task, but MK figured he was managing it pretty well.

...Okay, so maybe he felt a bit more tired, a bit more irritable than usual, but he could overcome that! He could get better at balancing his schedule.

He could do this.

...His rising anger over how Wukong continued to have him do nothing but smack a wall, repeatedly, over and over, every single day, wasn't doing him any favors though.

-

He is the weapon.

That sentence repeats like a mantra over and over in his head as he stares down the glowing eye of the smoke monster. Maybe he says it out loud- he can't be sure. All he's focused on is the sparks of energy flying around him, the resistance he feels keeping him from landing a hit as he pushes harder, summons as much energy as he can-

The air shifts, and MK barely has time to blink as the smoke monster smirks (and he hadn't even known that it could do that), shifting, twirling in on itself-

He thinks of looking back at Macaque for help.

But then the smoke clears away, and despite his confusion, he instantly knows the help would never come.

He finds himself face to face with Macaque, remnants of smoke and shadows slipping off of the other's form as he looks up and meets MK's gaze, revealing a scar over one eye, and really, MK should've seen this coming.

But it's not really Macaque's betrayal that surprises him.

No, that honor goes to the stone slowly creeping it's way up the side of Macaque's face.

And then Macaque's fist hits MK's chest, and MK gets the wind knocked out of him. He drops, hitting the ground, hard. Groaning, he starts trying to pull himself up.

He feels....weaker, somehow.

Like something isn't quite right.

"Y'know, you really are a good kid." MK barely registers Macaque's hand ruffling his hair, but he leans back as the other enters the shadows on the ground. "Super nice."

MK watches as the shadow clone (because that's what it must've been right? Heavens he was stupid, falling for a plot as simple as this) merges with it's creator- noting that the stone isn't just on Macaque's face, both the monkey's right leg, his left arm, and slowly spreading onto his chest.

It took a few moments more than it should've for MK to notice the gleaming ball of magic in Macaque's hand, but by the time he'd noticed it, Macaque was already closing his fist around it.

MK watched in fascination and mild horror as sparks of magic appeared all over Macaque's body, and the stone-

The stone faded away.

MK didn't get much of a chance to think about that, as the next second, the magical recoil sent MK flying, his back colliding with the face of the mountain behind him, the staff following after and landing sideways, like a bar pinning him to the rock. Tried as he might to move it, he couldn't.

He was trapped.

-

Monkey King, of course, came to save him, as always. MK could only thank his lucky stars that the whole situation had taken place in the night, instead of the day. He had no idea what they would do if Wukong turned fully to stone during an attack. (And based on some of the things Pigsy had told him, this had actually come close to happening, far more often than MK would like. They all knew that Wukong would still revert back to normal at sunset, even if he'd been turned all the way to stone. But they also knew that it hurt. And MK never, wanted anybody to be in that level of pain just because he couldn't handle things on his own.)

Still though, they'd really been cutting it close, with there having only been mere moments before sunrise. MK could still vividly see the expression on his mentors face as he looked back, eyeing the horizon, before locking eyes with MK.

Wukong hadn't strictly asked for help, instead saying that it was time for the "hero stuff", as MK had previously put it. But MK recognized worry when he saw it.

Part of him relifting the staff was fueled entirely by his determination to be the one to help his mentor for once. But he wasn't about to tell the Monkey King that. (He was fairly certain that Wukong might get offended over it, if his reluctance to let others help with his whole 'turning to stone' problem said anything).

MK sighed, feeling tired as he watched the sunrise. It belatedly occurred to him that he had stayed up all night.

It wouldn't be the first all-nighter he'd ever pulled, but after what he'd just been through? He just wanted to collapse into a mountain of pillows right this instant.

"...I should probably head home." MK lightly pulled himself out from under Wukong's arm, standing up. "I feel bone tired."

"I'm sure you do." Wukong also stood up, brushing dirt and debris off of his clothes, before looking down the cliff they'd been sitting on. "Just uh, could I ask you for a favor first?"

"Uh, I guess?" MK yawned, leaning against the staff for support as he slouched.

Wukong eyed the horizon. The sun had already risen.

"...You and Pigsy would probably yell at me if I summoned my cloud and turned my toes to stone so.....mind giving me a ride back?"

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing #Sunset Wukong AU

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tell the Truth

Prompts: aaaa the way you write angst is just *chefs kiss* wonderful. I’ve been really enjoying the butterfly project series, it has made me cry multiple times. May I request some fluff to balance the angst? - anon

Excuse me while I sob over Redemption Never Came and politely grabby hand for more angst with a happy ending (Roman angst my beloved) (Also you are an amazing fanfic artist :D) - anon

This is so heartbreaking and whumpy but so soft in the end and I would devour a second part about everyone trying to help undo all the negative patterns they've all instilled in Roman and just showing him affection and everyone's hearts breaking a little more each time he's surprised they actually want to be around him. - LadyofhteWoods

And now a part of me wants to see all those scenarios again, only this time Roman gets loved- walk in the kitchen, get a hug. Sit on the couch? Cuddle pile. Go on a quest? Bring friends, if hurt, patch up and movies. Crying in bed because you had a bad time and your brain is screaming that you suck and a wave of depression has rippled through you and you feel horrible? Have some tea… cry it out…. We’re here. - A_tiny_star_prince

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: self-doubt, self-deprecating thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 7688

Roman lies. A lot. Maybe it's time they did something about it.

Roman’s lies don’t vanish overnight. How could they? When he’s so used to repeating them, over and over, in a horrific little mantra before he goes to sleep, how can he be expected to get rid of them in only one night?

That doesn’t make them less difficult to hear.

Janus is downstairs, helping Virgil fold up one of the blankets strewn about the living room, when he winces and hisses.

“J? You okay?”

Janus nods, jerking his head upward. Virgil follows his gaze and winces too.

“…Princey?”

“I think so.” That’s a lie. He knows it’s Roman.

“I got this,” Virgil says quietly, taking the blanket from Janus, “you go. He seems to let you help more than he lets us.”

He never really had the choice to let me.

Janus swallows heavily as he appears outside Roman’s door. The lies aren’t nearly as poisonous as they were a few days ago, but they’re strong enough to curl his tongue at the bitterness in his throat. He raises a hand to knock on the door.

The lies falter for a moment before another one floats through.

Don’t come in.

He smirks, gently pushing the door open to meet a darkened room.

“Impressive,” he says softly, making his way over to the figure in the bed and perching on the end, “that could’ve been one of mine.”

He’s rewarded with the quietest of huffs before a head shyly peeks out at him from the covers. Janus smiles and tilts his head.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi.” Roman shuffles a little. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was summoning you.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Janus glances around the room. His computer is off and shut. The bathroom light and fan are off. He looks back. “Can I help, sweetie?”

A shuffling of the blankets that’s probably supposed to be a shrug.

“Let me come find you, then,” he murmurs, standing and moving to where the head was a moment ago, “how did you get this many blankets on top of you?”

He slowly starts to move them out of the way, peeling back layer after layer, only briefly wondering whether or not Roman can breathe properly under these. It’s a careful act, one he treats with the same reverence as cleaning his gloves or his scales, creating a little cocoon of blankets as he gets further and further into the covers.

The last one puffs just the slightest amount, up and down.

So you can breathe, good.

Janus doesn’t move this one all the way out of the way, just lifts it up enough to peer inside. Roman’s little face peers back at him, partially covered by another blanket clutched tight to his chest. He looks so…child-like.

The realization makes something warm turn in Janus’s chest.

“Knock knock,” he says softly, “anyone home?”

Roman blinks. “Mm.”

“May I come in, sweetie?”

“Mm.” Roman jerks his chin toward Janus’s clothes. “Lose the sharp bits.”

Janus snaps his fingers, transforming his usual clothes into a soft yellow shirt and sleep pants. “Better?”

“Mm.”

“How did you manage to get so many blankets balanced on your bed,” Janus asks as he slips beside Roman, “mine always fall off after three.”

“Practice.” Roman shifts to make room.

Janus frowns. “Come here, sweetie, let me cuddle you.”

“You don’t have to.”

The frown deepens. “Sweetie?”

Roman buries his face a little deeper into the blanket. “You don’t like cuddling. Virgil an’ Remus said so.”

Oh, Roman…

“Come, sweetie,” he insists, tugging Roman gently into a proper hug, “there.”

“But—but—“

“I may not be as big a fan of cuddling as you and Patton,” Janus says firmly, cupping Roman’s face, “and I’m certainly the type that enjoys being tackled by Remus—“

Roman snorts.

“—but you’re upset,” he finishes gently, “and I want to help.”

Burden.

Needy.

Don’t understand boundaries.

Don’t deserve help.

Janus hisses. Roman sighs.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” he assures, still cradling Roman’s face as he pulls him close, “I understand. It’s alright.”

“I know, and I—I don’t want you to leave, but—“ Roman swallows— “I just—I still don’t believe you’re here.”

Janus wraps a pair of arms around Roman’s waist and squeezes. “I’m real, I’m here.”

“I just—“

There’s another lie swirling in Roman’s brain, too nebulous to make it all the way to Janus, but present enough that it makes his mouth tingle. He leans down to kiss Roman’s forehead.

“…you said it was your job to protect the Ego.”

“That’s right, sweetie, it is.”

“I guess I…I just…”

Janus gives Roman another encouraging squeeze. Roman brings the blanket further up his face.

“…I guess I figured that if you—if you could h-hate me that much or h-hurt me that badly and not—not care, then you…maybe you…”

Janus’s heart clenches as the lie finally makes itself known.

Not worth protecting.

He pulls away, shushing the heartbroken whine that Roman makes, taking off his gloves and wrapping every arm around the poor thing. He presses another kiss to his forehead, letting the hiss out into his hair.

“That’s not true, sweetie,” he promises, “and you’ll never know how sorry I am for hurting you and letting it get this far.”

And the poor thing is so tired, so weary that he goes limp in Janus’s arms, save for the blanket clutched tightly to his face. Janus frowns, opening his mouth to say that might be a little uncomfortable, what with Roman’s arms tucked between them, when he starts putting the pieces together.

Roman is still wearing a fair amount of clothing, he’s got something pressed up against his face, under his chin, and he’s got so many blankets piled on top of him that even Janus feels warm.

“And here I thought I couldn’t feel more rotten,” he whispers, carding one hand through Roman’s hair, another scratching gently between his shoulder blades, “but you must be in agony.”

A questioning hum is let out against his throat.

“You’re still touch starved, sweetie,” he says in way of answering, squeezing a little tighter, “are you still cold?”

There’s a soft rush of breath as Janus cups the back of his neck and then a noise is just about torn from his throat as he uses it to pull Roman close.

“Oh, shh, shh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek, “I’m right here, sweetie, I won’t leave you.”

They lie there for a while longer, Roman’s arms slowly lowering the blanket until he shyly puts his arms around Janus in return.

“There you go, sweetie,” he encourages, “hold onto me, that’s it.”

“Why—why are you letting me hug you?”

“Because it seems like you’d like to hug me.” Janus squeezes him again. “You don’t need to have a reason, sweetie, if you need a cuddle, you can have one.”

I need a reason. I need an excuse. I need an argument. I have to convince you.

Another hiss. “You can always ask for hugs, sweetie, you don’t need to convince me to hug you.”

“…really?”

Oh, Roman… “Yes, sweetie, you can ask any of us.”

The wave of disbelief that hits him makes him grit his teeth.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise.” Another kiss to his forehead. “You’re not unwanted, you’re not a burden.”

The silence he gets implies that Roman may not want to prove that—or disprove it—for himself right now.

“…can we just stay here for a bit?”

“For as long as you need, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, settling them in for some rest, “for as long as you want.”

——————————

Patton is in the kitchen, the first one downstairs this morning. There’s already a pot of coffee brewing and he sets the kettle up on the counter. He reaches up to pull the mugs for everyone. The plain black one for Logan, the Nightmare Before Christmas one for Virgil, the sparkly one for Remus, and the blue puppy one for himself. He frowns.

Roman used to keep his mug down here too. This really big red one with a golden crown on the side. He hasn’t seen it in ages.

Footsteps on the stairs.

He turns and sees Roman walk into the kitchen, smiling brightly as if there’s nothing wrong in the world, not a seam or stitch of his prince costume out of place. He strides into the room like he owns it, as if he’s just come down the stairs in his resplendent palace to a crown of adoring onlookers.

“Ah! Patton!” Goodness, he speaks like it too. “Good morning!”

“Roman!” Patton rushes forward and wraps him in a hug.

This is where everything goes wrong.

Roman tenses. Not in a way that means he wants out, but out of sheer surprise. Patton waits for Roman’s arms to wrap around him but instead, there’s just a very, very soft touch to his shoulder.

“Patton,” he asks quietly, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m great, kiddo, why?”

“W-well, you’re…you’re hugging me.”

“Sure am.”

“…why?”

Suddenly Patton feels very cold.

He pulls back, not enough to let Roman go completely, but enough to look up and see a truly heartbreaking look of confusion on his face. He can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his mouth as he raises one hand to his face.

“Are you asking why I’m hugging you?” Roman nods. “I want to hug you, kiddo. You’re hug-shaped.”

“I’m…what?”

“Hug-shaped,” Patton repeats, tugging him a little closer with the arm still around his waist, “you’re worth hugging, I like hugging you.”

“O-oh.”

And Patton has to watch as every scrap of confidence falls from Roman’s expression, his shoulders slump, and he looks like he loses some of his height, even. The shift is so drastic that it almost springs tears to his eyes at how much Prince Roman suddenly looks like a lost child, swimming in a costume too big and too heavy for him. Roman face contorts as he looks at a spot on the counter, furrowing his brow as if it’ll explain everything to him if he just glares hard enough.

There’s something fragile about the way Roman leans into Patton’s hand, something breakable about how warm he is right now. Patton shifts his weight to his other leg and there’s a flash of panic in Roman’s eyes, quickly stifled but there.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pulling Roman back in for a proper hug, “I’m right here, it’s okay. You just let it out, okay?”

Roman’s breathe shudders a little into Patton’s shoulder. Then he starts pushing Patton away.

Patton listens, confused, until he watches Roman shake himself and put the mask of the prince right back on.

“Terribly sorry,” he says in the awful, awful cheerful voice as he rakes a hand through his hair, “don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t,” Patton blurts before he can stop himself, “don’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do what, Padre?”

“Don’t pretend,” he says, reaching out for Roman again, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Or that you don’t want something.”

“I don’t like being needy, Patton,” Roman says in a soft voice that’s just this side of wobbly, “and you don’t like me needy.”

And doesn’t that just feel hot and guilty in Patton’s throat?

“I like you, sweetheart,” he says instead, “and you’re not being needy if you want comfort or even just a touch. You’re allowed to want something, Roman, you are.”

Roman huffs in disbelief and turns.

“No, Roman—“ Patton hurries to get in front of him— “you are.”

Something flickers across Roman’s expression. Patton doesn’t even need Janus to tell him that Roman thinks he’s walking into a trap.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Patton says quietly, “I’ve hurt you so much, haven’t I? I’ve made you think that your job is wrong, that you—that you’re wrong and you’re not, kiddo. You’re not wrong. You’re not awful. I promise.”

Roman’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Patton coos, wrapping him back in a hug, and finally, finally Roman’s arms come up to wrap around him too, before he’s being squeezed so tight it borders on painful.

Patton doesn’t care.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, I promise.” He rocks them back and forth a little as Roman buries his face in his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, I know we will.”

They stay like that until the kettle goes off and Roman startles, jumping back a little bit. Patton soothes away the last of the jitters and smiles, watching Roman look like…Roman. Not the Prince, not the horribly lost child, just…just Roman.

“I think that’s my cue to make you the biggest mug of hot chocolate you’ve had since Christmas,” he says quietly, “now what mug would you like?”

Roman glances at the cabinet. “Anyone is fine.”

“Then why don’t you go grab one while I get the hot chocolate?”

Patton busies himself with the box, purposely letting Roman have his privacy as he picks out a mug, trying not to make his smile too blinding when he turns and sees Roman shyly hold out a big red mug with a sparkly crown.

“Good choice,” he says softly as he takes it from him, “I missed this mug.”

Judging by the way Roman’s mouth curls up in a little smile, he knows what Patton meant.

——————————

Virgil walks into the room and sees Roman sprawled out across the chair. He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s got to give it to Janus; even though he knows he can hear lies, he’s not sure he would’ve believed that they were actually coming from Roman. Because Roman looks the fucking picture of relaxed right now. It looks like he saw Patton and Logan on the couch and decided there wasn’t enough room for him to take up as much space as he wants. It looks like he’s occupying the entire fucking corner and not just the chair. It looks like he’s every bit the arrogant prince they used to think he was.

Then he sees how tight his jaw is and the slight tremble of his hands.

The room isn’t warm, there’s no reason for Princey to be shivering. There’s certainly no reason for him to be so tense as he sits in the chair, tapping a pen against his cheek in a fabulous impression of mindless thinking but is actually a carefully controlled way of preventing himself from moving any further.

He’s gotta hand it to him. Princey’s good.

Virgil walks up to Roman and shoves his hands into his pockets as Roman looks up.

“Dark and Stormy,” he says in a perfected casual lilt, “is there something I can do for you?”

And wow, okay, if this is what Janus hears all the time then Virgil has no idea how he fucking does it.

Janus hears lies, Virgil hears fears.

Please don’t make me leave.

If you want the chair I’l give it to you, I’ll move, I’ll sit on the floor, I’ll be quiet, but please don’t make me go. I want to stay, please, can I—can I stay? Is that okay?

Virgil tilts his head. “Move the book.”

Roman furrows his brow. “What?”

“The book.” Virgil nods to the notebook in Roman’s lap. “Move it. Move your arm.”

Confused, Roman does as he asks only to squeak in surprise when Virgil pronounces it perfect and plonks himself in Roman’s lap.

“Virgil!”

“Yeah?” Virgil pulls out his phone and leans his head against Roman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“You—you’re—“ Roman still doesn’t move— “you’re in my lap.”

“Sure am.” Virgil looks up at him and lowers his voice to a whisper. “No?”

Roman’s voice drops too. “What?”

Virgil indicates his weight. “No? This okay?”

“Y-yeah, it’s fine, I just—what?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, Virgil reaches behind him to take Roman’s free hand and pull it close, tucking it under his chin and clutching it there. Roman’s hand trembles. He finds himself absentmindedly running his thumb over the knuckles, the palm, the fingers. He keeps his eyes on Roman’s face.

Roman’s other arm lowers, gingerly resting on Virgil’s legs. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

“I’m sorry, Princey,” he whispers, “I’ve been fucking awful to you.”

Roman’s face twitches. “…so have I.”

“What, been awful to me or awful to you?”

For a moment, he thinks Roman’s just going to say that he’s been awful to Virgil. Which, yes, he was in the past, but not like Virgil’s been. But instead, Roman opens his mouth and shakily whispers: ‘both.’

“I know, Princey.” Virgil squeezes his hand again. “You’re all good with me, and we can…if you want, I can help with the second part too.”

Roman’s eyes widen and godfuckingdamnit that hurts.

“I gotcha, Roman,” he says softly, lacing their fingers together, “and ‘m sorry I haven’t been there for you recently.”

Roman swallows, Virgil’s eyes drawn to the roll of his throat. “You…you want to help me?”

Roman, you’re gonna ruin my reputation of not having a heart by smashing it into fucking pieces.

“Yeah, Roman,” he reassures, “I wanna help you. You’re important.”

“I am?”

“Sure are, Princey.” He lightly knocks his head against Roman’s. “And if it ever feels like I don’t believe that, call me out on my bullshit. ‘Cause that’s bullshit.”

“What are you two muttering about over there?” Patton shakes his head fondly when Virgil decides to just turn his head upside down instead of turning around. “Virgil, that’s not good for your spine.”

“We’re metaphysical, Pop-star, who cares?”

“When you start complaining about neck pain,” Logan says wryly, “me.”

He glances up too and Virgil hides a smirk at how his face softens when he spots Roman’s expression.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Roman says hurriedly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s Hug Roman time,” Virgil says immediately after, “so I’m hugging Roman.”

“I think that’s less of a hug than you sitting on his lap,” Logan says, standing, “but we’ll never fit all of us on that chair.”

Virgil feels more than hears Roman’s inhale as Logan and Patton start moving the couch cushions to the floor. He sits back upright just in time to see Roman’s hopeful face and butts his head against his again.

“Come on, Princey, let’s go.”

“…are you going to stand up, or…?”

“Or you could carry me.”

“Virgil,” he hears Patton chide.

“No, no,” Roman says, “it’s fine, I can carry him if he wants to be carried. I will need my hand back, though.”

Okay, yes, Virgil does enjoy Roman carrying him a bit too much for altruistic purposes but it’s worth it when Roman goes to gently set him down and the other two pull him down instead.

“There,” Logan says softly as Roman’s head comes to rest against the base of the couch, “much better.”

Roman opens his mouth to say something when Logan’s hand tangles in his hair and it turns into a slightly strangled sound. Patton chuckles, wrapping his arms around Roman and sighing softly.

“Hey, who wants to play a game?”

Remus’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“We’re already playing a game,” Virgil says, “it’s called Cuddle Roman, now get your butt down here.”

Remus gasps. “My favorite!”

“Okay good,” Virgil mutters as he moves out of Roman’s lap to make room for Remus, “I totally thought he was talking about butts.”

“I have a feeling, my dear,” Janus sighs, striding from the shadows and totally not making Virgil jump, “that it’s both.”

Remus just cackles. Janus takes a seat, reaching out to take one of Roman’s hands in his. Roman frowns at him slightly, his head still spinning from the amount of people around him.

“What—is there something wrong?”

Janus shakes his head. “It’s Hug Roman hours. So I’m here.”

Vigil chuckles at the blush on Roman’s face. “So this is becoming a regular thing, right?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Indeed.”

“Yay!”

Remus just holds his brother tighter.

——————————

“…come in.”

“If you’d like to reschedule, Roman, it’s no trouble, I’m happy to…”

Logan trails off as he walks into the room, Roman’s back to him as he hunches over a table near the door to the Imagination. He shuts the door quietly behind him and tucks the notebook under his arm.

“Roman?” He takes a step forward. “Are you alright?”

“Never better, Specs,” Roman says cheerily, too cheerily, “just give me one moment and I’m all yours.”

Logan frowns. “If you’d like to reschedule, Roman,” he repeats, softer this time, “I can assure you, it’s fine.”

“No, no, that’d be rude.” Something crinkles in Roman’s hands. “Just—just one moment.”

There’s a heavy clunk and a barely contained hiss.

“Roman—“ he starts forward— “are you hurt?”

“Not hurt.” Another clunk. “Just…incredibly clumsy, it seems.”

“Can I help?”

If he weren’t paying attention, he would miss the way Roman’s shoulders tense with disbelief.

“N-no, that’s alright,” Roman says, the first time his voice has slipped, “I’m just…no, it’s alright.”

He jerks his head toward the desk, being very careful not to let Logan see his face.

“It’s over there, I’ll be with you in one moment.”

Logan looks, then walks over to the desk and carefully sets down his notebook. He glances up at Roman and can’t stop the soft noise at seeing Roman’s hands shake and fumble with a large bottle.

“Roman,” he calls softly, “Roman, please.”

Roman freezes.

“…please what?”

“Let me help you,” he says, walking over, “let me help you with this.”

Roman shudders and tries to laugh again. “You don’t need to busy yourself with inane and worthless tasks, Logan.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“You’re not inane or worthless, Roman,” he says firmly, “nor are you a task.”

Roman’s shoulder is cold under his hand. He cups it nonetheless and leans closer, mindful to keep his gaze down and away.

“Please?”

Under his hand, Roman sighs. “…if that’s what you want.”

He’s not prepared for when Roman turns around, a bottle of micellar water in one hand and cotton ovals in the other. His makeup—done so wonderfully this morning—is smeared and wearing away, his nose bright red under the concealer. Logan lets out another soft noise, taking the proffered items and gently pushing Roman to sit on the table.

He takes one of the cotton ovals and gets it damp, cupping Roman’s chin in one hand.

“Let me know if anything starts to sting or hurt,” he instructs softly and starts to clean the smudges from his face. Roman sits perfectly still, his gaze down at Logan’s tie. His hands fold neatly in his lap and he looks every bit the cooperative ideal.

Except for the way he looks terrified every time Logan so much as shifts his hand.

“You are not worthless,” Logan says quietly as he works, swapping out the cotton ovals when needed, “you are not annoying me. You are someone I care about very deeply and someone I enjoy helping.”

Roman’s chin wobbles.

“I am always impressed by the ideas you create,” he continues after quietly bidding Roman to turn slightly, “and you never cease to amaze me with your creativity.”

Roman’s throat works against his hand as he swallows. “Remus—“

“Remus is Remus,” Logan interrupts gently, “turn—yes, there you go—and you are Roman. You are clever, you are kind, and you are wonderful, and I care about you very much.”

He takes a new cotton oval and takes Roman’s chin again, tapping gently until Roman makes eye contact.

“Close your eyes,” he bids, “and let me know if they start to sting at any point.”

Roman closes his eyes and Logan carefully, carefully starts to clean off the eyeshadow. The golden sparkles are stubborn, clinging to the skin, but he works patiently until the last of them come off. He realizes after that the oval is wetter than it was when he began.

“Oh, little star,” he breathes, glancing around and summoning a soft washcloth to clean Roman’s face the rest of the way, “it’s alright, you can cry if you need to. I won’t mind.”

“It’s stupid,” Roman mutters, raising a hand to swipe angrily at the tears, “it’s stupid.”

“If it’s making you upset, it’s not stupid.” Logan gently but firmly places Roman’s hands on his own shoulders and replaces them with the cloth. “Tell me?”

“I—it’s not even a quest.” Roman’s voice cracks horribly on the last word. “It’s just—I was making something and it broke and I—I worked really hard on it and now it’s ruined.”

Logan lets out a soft noise. “I’m sorry.”

His chest aches when the apology makes Roman shake himself. “It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t want to just dump that on you.”

“I asked you to tell me what was wrong,” Logan chides, patting his cheek dry, “you’re not dumping anything on me.”

He sets the cloth aside and cups Roman’s face with his hands.

“And I am also sorry,” he whispers, “that I have made you believe that I do not worry about you the same way I worry about Thomas.”

Roman’s eyes fly open. “You—you what?”

“I care about you very deeply, Roman,” Logan says, “you’re very important to me. So yes, of course, I worry about you. You’re upset, and I’ve made you feel like you can’t come to me. I…I have not behaved well toward you. And I will remedy that.”

A new wave of tears meets Logan’s thumbs carefully swiping them away.

“Bonk?”

Roman leans forward and lets Logan rest their foreheads together. After a moment, his hands move to give Roman a proper hug, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“What were you making, if I may ask?”

“…just a house.” Roman sniffles. “It got destroyed in the last brainstorm.”

“Would you like help?”

“…don’t we have to work on the ideas?”

Logan smiles, resting their foreheads together once more. “This feels more important, doesn’t it?”

Roman’s small but warm smile is more than worth the extra hours they’ll have to spend working on the videos.

——————————

Somehow they forgot.

Somehow they forgot that Roman was scared of the dark.

It wasn’t common that thunderstorms plagued the Imagination, simply because—well, Thomas didn’t need literal brainstorms when he’s got Logan working with him. Sure, sometimes Remus decides he’s going to make his entrance extra cliché and arrive in a literal flash of lightning. Or Roman will create a field of flowers larger than the eye can see and soft bruised purple clouds will roll across the sky, quiet thunder and light rain that feels like a cushion.

But it’s never enough to cause a blackout.

For a moment, they’re all just confused. Thomas’s apartment is fine, Thomas is fine, so they don’t understand what’s happened. Then Remus points out that they, uh, maybe didn’t close the door to the Imagination as tightly as they should have.

He gets smacked upside the head for that.

So they’re here, in the middle of the dark, trying frantically to figure out how to not run into everything. Well, three of them are fine. Virgil can see in the dark. Janus can see in the dark. Remus can see in the dark.

“Is that because you’re the Dark Sides,” Patton mumbles as he puts his glasses back on for the fifth time in the past minute, “or do you each have some kind of ability?”

Remus smiles, even if Patton can’t see it. “It’s more fun!”

“That doesn’t—“ Logan pinches the bridge of his nose— “that doesn’t even answer the question, Remus.”

“I think you’ll find that’s his justification for most things,” Janus says wryly, taking Patton carefully by the arm and guiding him to sit on the couch, safely out of harm’s way.

Virgil elbows Remus to get him to put down the Morningstar, please, and sits down next to Patton. “How long is this going to take to go away?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Probably won’t be that long. We all just gotta sit tight.”

Janus raises a hand to his mouth—not that Logan can truly appreciate his expression—and mock gasps. “Remus, suggesting that we don’t do anything?”

“Oh, fuck off, Snakey.”

“Language!”

Remus blows a fat raspberry. “Even I know it’s a bad idea to try and do something right now. I mean ask Roman—“

It takes a moment for them to realize that Roman isn’t sitting there.

“We should go get him,” Logan says after a moment, “just to make sure we’re all in the same place.”

And with that, Remus is off, stomping up the stairs and conveniently forgetting that two Sides can’t see past the little pinpricks of light at the bottom of the windows. Virgil rolls his eyes and makes to stand, only to frown.

“Virgil?” Logan touches his elbow when he notices him pause. “Are you alright?”

“Feels like I’m being summoned.” He rubs his chest absentmindedly. “But not really.”

“Well, let’s just keep an eye on—hey!”

Virgil doesn’t even hear the end of Logan’s sentence before he’s yanked into another room.

He blinks, disoriented, shaking his head to figure out where he is. Only when Remus bursts up the stairs and pouts that how dare Virgil sink out to beat him here does he realize why he’s here.

Judging by the way Remus’s face falls a second later, he does too.

Remus knocks lightly on the door. After a moment, he curses and goes to knock louder.

“Don’t,” Virgil mutters, grabbing Remus’s arm, “you’re gonna freak him out more.”

“Well, I can’t just blow the fucking door open,” he growls, shaking him off, “that’s gonna make it worse.”

He opens his mouth but another sharp tug from his chest makes him wince. “Okay, then don’t bust it down. Just—oh, god, we gotta get in there.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Remus doesn’t rear back and kick the door open, which says something about how concerned he is. They can’t see much of anything except for—

—oh.

Oh, no.

Roman notices immediately when the blackout happens. How could he not? He’d been in the middle of trying to sort out his journal for the day when suddenly he was drowning.

Oh god.

Oh, god.

Within an instant, his chest seizes. He can’t see. He can’t see. There’s something—

No. No, it’s fine. He’s in his room. Everything is fine. Because he’s safe. He’s in his room, he knows where everything is, he knows what everything is in here, he’s fine.

There’s nothing here to be scared of. There’s nothing here to be scared of.

So why is Roman so scared?

He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t be. He’s a prince, for Disney’s sake, he’s the protector of the Mindscape, he’s—he’s—

He’s Prince Roman. Not some newly minted squire crying because he’s away from home for the first time and it’s all dark and scary and he can’t see anything because he doesn’t know what’s going on and he can’t tell where anything is and he swears he can see things moving in the shadows and—and—and—

Roman shoves his fist in his mouth before he can whimper.

No. No. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

…besides, what would the others say?

He’s a prince. He’s Roman. He’s not some scared weak thing. He’s just—he’s just—it’s—it’s—

They can’t see him like this. He’s supposed to be strong. He’ll never be taken seriously if they don’t see that he can be strong. They don’t take him seriously already, do they? Let alone if they could see him in the dark, alone, hyperventilating, terrified.

But he is.

He’s—he—

Something moves.

Oh, god, something moved.

He freezes, goes absolutely still, tries frantically to still his heaving chest, be small, be unnoticeable, his pride doesn’t matter right now, it doesn’t, he’s not gonna be hurt if he can’t be seen—

“Ro-Bro?”

His next inhale is a whine.

No, no, not Remus—he can’t—not Remus, Remus is strong, Remus will laugh at him, Remus loves the dark, he can’t cry in front of Remus, not for this—

“Oh, Ro-Bro,” he hears through the haze, “Ro-Bro, I’m so fucking sorry, I forgot, hey—hey—“

He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry.

“Hey,” Remus calls, tugging carefully at the hand clapped over his mouth, “hey, don’t do that, Roro, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop it, it’s gonna fucking hurt if you do that, you know that—“

The sob that tears itself out of his throat as Remus pries his hand away hurts his ears.

“Hey, Roro,” Remus soothes, taking his hands and squeezing them firmly, “hey, you gotta just be here for me, you focus on me, okay?”

“Re—“

“Come here, Ro.”

Remus scoops him up into his lap. To hell with whatever is twisting around in the shadows, Remus is holding him in his lap, rocking him back and forth and Remus is of the dark.

A rush of shame through his stomach and the first real sob into Remus’s shoulder hurts.

“Nuh-uh, Ro,” comes the mutter over his head, “don’t hold it in.”

The shame only grows. Then Remus tightens his grip until it’s all he can feel.

“I’m right here, Ro, I’m right here. It’s okay. You can be scared.”

“N-not scared.”

A gentle hiss in his ear as something—someone presses against his back and more arms than he can count wrap around his chest.

“Shh, shh,” Remus murmurs as he starts, “it’s just Janny.”

“Boo,” Janus whispers as he presses a kiss on his shoulder. Why—why is he here—did he—did he lie too much? He’s not scared, he’s not scared—

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispers as Roman starts to flinch, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, sweetie, stop that. We’ve got you.”

“You’re scared, bud.” Is that—is that Virgil? “Hey, hey, buddy, we got you. I’m sorry, Roman, I forgot you were so scared of the dark.”

Can’t be scared, can’t be scared—

“Shh, shh, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “stop that. You’re allowed to be scared, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Virgil presses closer, nudging Janus’s head out of the way and replacing it with his own. He leans down to nuzzle into the crook of Roman’s neck, finding the place his collar digs into his neck and loosening it. Curse him. Curse him.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“N-no—“

Janus hisses gently in his ear again.

“No—“ Roman’s breath hitches— “no, no, no—“

“Roman,” comes Logan’s warm voice from somewhere above him, and no—

“Give him to me,” he hears again after a moment, and when he feels Remus’s arms begin to loosen and Janus pulls away he mewls—

“Hush, little one,” Logan says softly, gathering the poor prince into his lap, “you’re safe, you’re right here, it’s just a blackout.”

“You’ll—“ Roman hiccups, his hands still pushing Logan away from him— “you’ll laugh—“

“Never,” comes the chorus, Logan’s arms firmly around his waist. Then another pair of hands covers his and pulls them away.

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, gently but firmly placing his arms around Logan’s neck so Logan can cuddle him properly, “sorry it took us a little longer to get here, we had to take it slow up the stairs.”

“Pat—Pat—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Patton coos, crouching down to run a hand through his hair as Logan tucks him into the crook of his neck and Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, “we’re all here, it’s okay.”

“Stupid—st—stupid,” Roman mumbles, “I’m stupid—“

Another hiss, followed by a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Stop lying, sweetie,” Janus whispers, “stop it. You’re not stupid.”

“I’m a prince afraid of the dark,” Roman spits out, disgusted, “of course I’m stupid.”

“Falsehood,” Logan murmurs with more tenderness than Roman can remember, “you’re not stupid. You’re not.”

“I’m crying because I’m afraid of the dark,” he spits again, “I’m af-fraid of the dark—I’m afraid of the dark, I’m—I’m afraid—“

He’s afraid of the dark.

Patton presses a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t like the dark either, sweetheart.”

“You’re—you’re not—you’re not crying—“

“No, I’m not.” Another kiss. “But you are, Roman, and that’s okay.”

“Come on, Princey.” Virgil butts his head gently against Roman’s. “You just gotta breathe first, okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

Remus calls from somewhere over his shoulder—what has he been doing? Where’s he been?— “come on, I got all the pillows.”

“Re?”

“Come on, Ro-Bro,” Remus murmurs, appearing at his other shoulder, “close your eyes.”

“It’s already d-dark, Re.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna get the blanket in your eyes.” Suddenly, there’s a swath of fabric hitting him in the face. “It’s just for a moment, Roro.”

“Ready?” Logan scoops him up. “Up we go.”

“H-how can you see?”

“He can’t,” Janus says, suddenly appearing behind him, “but I can. Come now, my prince, we’re just over here, come on…”

Roman lets out a soft noise of surprise when his back hits something soft.

“Snap yourself into something more comfortable, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’re all just going to stay here for a while.”

Patton takes his hand and kisses the back of it as Logan helps tug down the t-shirt he’s poofed himself into.

“I’m sorry,” Roman mumbles, “I’m sorry I’m so scared.”

“None of that now, sweetheart,” Patton chides, cuddling into his side—oh, Patton’s in soft things too now— “you’re gonna be taken care of now. We’re right here.”

“I’m right here, Ro-Bro,” Remus says, promptly flopping down over Roman’s legs, “and no one else is going anywhere.”

Virgil huffs, curling around his head and ruffling his hair. “He’s right, Princey. Just relax for a little.”

“H-how long is the blackout going to last?”

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Janus says, snuggling into his other side, taking his hand between two of his, “but we’ll be here the whole time. Now please, sweetie, breathe.”

He tries. But it’s still dark and even though he knows the others are here, he can still feel the darkness pressing in on top of him. He can still see things moving in the shadows. He can feel it. He can see it. It hurts.

“Roman,” comes Logan’s voice, warm in the dark, “Roman, listen to me.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, dear,” he says, “it’s alright. Virgil is by your head, and he can see in the dark.”

Virgil gives his hair a little tug. “Right here, Princey. I’ve got you.”

“Patton is on your left. He won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses his cheek. “I won’t leave you.”

“Janus is on your right. He can also see in the dark, and it’s his job to protect you.”

Janus leans down to kiss his temple and squeezes his hand. “My prince,” he murmurs tenderly, “my sweetie.”

“And Remus…”

“Nothing’s laying a fucking finger on you, Ro-Bro,” Remus growls from down by his feet, “they’re gonna have to get through me first.”

Logan chuckles. “See?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, little star,” he says softly, “what do you need?”

“W—where are you?” Roman’s hands tense in Patton’s and Janus’s. “Where—I—I can’t—“

“Hush now,” Logan says, so softly, so softly, as a hand cups his cheek to brush away his tears, “I’m right here, I know you can’t see me. I’m sorry. I know it’s dark. I know you’re afraid. It’s okay, my dear, shh.”

Roman tries to reach out for him only to be thwarted by the grip on his hands.

“Hush, Roman, it’s alright, what can I do?”

“S-stay, please, stay—I want you to stay—“

“I’m right here, can I—“

“Please—“

He almost sobs again with relief when Logan lies down, his head tucked over his shoulder, curling his arms about his waist.

“We’re right here, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “we’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Patton kisses the back of his hand.

“It’s okay to be scared, Princey.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Roro.”

It takes another half an hour for the storm to end and the lights to flicker back on. Roman stays tucked up in their arms, their soft words in his ear, gentle hands wiping away his tears, until he can blink up at all of them and murmur ‘thank you.’

“Of course, sweetie.”

“We’re here for you, Roman.”

“It’s no problem, Princey.”

“We’ve got you, kiddo.”

“All you gotta do is ask, Roro.”

——————————

Remus knocks on the door, the present in his hands. Roman opens the door and tilts his head.

“Re?”

“Can I come in, Ro-Bro?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on.” Roman shuts the door. “What’s up?”

“This is for you,” Remus says, holding out the box.

“Oh—Remus, I didn’t—I’m sorry—“

“You didn’t miss anything, Ro,” Remus says quickly, “and I’m not expecting anything in return. Just wanted to give you something.”

He shuffles.

“And I, uh, I also haven’t really apologized for the shit I’ve done to you, so…it’s that too.”

“O-oh.” Roman clutches the box. “Thank you, Remus. Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He watches as Roman carefully opens the box and pulls out the stuffed octopus.

“Oh, Re, this is so cute!” He holds it up, looking at the little face. “I love it, thank you.”

He turns it over.

“Wait, what’s…”

“It’s a mood toy,” Remus says quietly, “if you flip it this way, it’s happy.”

The cream side of the octopus has a little smiley face.

“And if you turn it inside out—“ Roman flips the plush so that a red face frowns at him— “it’s sad.”

Roman’s eyes widen and he looks up at Remus.

“I know you find it hard to ask for things,” Remus says, edging a bit closer, “so I thought this could…help.”

“Re…”

“And I—oof!” Remus lets out a grunt as Roman tackles him onto the bed. He chuckles, his arms wrapping tightly around his brother. “I’m glad you like it Roro, just promise me you’ll use it?”

He gets his request a few days later.

It’s been quiet, Thomas is taking a break, and they’re all in various corners of the living room. Janus and Virgil are lazing about in the patch of sun by the window, Patton is in the kitchen, Logan is working on something on his laptop, and Remus is toying with the grip on his Morningstar.

Roman walks down the stairs and he’s clutching a little red octopus.

“Hey, Ro,” Remus says quietly, hopping up and scurrying over to meet him as he comes down the stairs, “you wanna go be alone?”

Roman shakes his head, pushing gingerly into the living room. Remus turns to see everyone paying attention to them, including Janus, who’s sat up fully and is reaching out to Roman.

“Come here, sweetie,” he calls, “is your brain being a bastard?”

Distantly, Remus hears Patton huff at the language but no one says a word as Janus gathers Roman into his chest, bending to murmur softly in his ear. Virgil scoots closer, acting as the guardian, letting Roman relax with the knowledge that nothing will surprise him right now. A gentle tap on Remus’s shoulder and he turns to see Logan, who bends closer.

“What do we do to help?”

“Help me make a mattress big enough for all of us?”

Under Logan’s guidance, Remus manages to make a normal mattress with lots of comfy blankets and pillows. Patton comes from the kitchen with a glass of water set on the table near the three on the floor. He pauses as he turns and quickly sets a cup of tea next to it.

Roman’s grip on the octopus doesn’t lighten up, even after he’s been in Janus’s arms for a while, even after Logan’s gone over and helped Virgil walk him through coming out of the spiral. Janus walks over to Remus and Patton and quietly tells them they should try and get them all to eat something. Nothing too straining for Roman’s system, but something.

Patton brings out a few bowls of snack food and sets them at the foot of the mattress. Then he goes and gently cards his hands through Roman’s hair.

“Come on, kiddos,” he says softly, “let’s move to the mattress.”

Logan scoops Roman into his arms, depositing him safely in the center of the mattress, little red octopus in tow. The rest of them cuddle around him, some Disney movie playing on the TV. Roman eats, then lays his head on Remus’s shoulder. Logan takes Roman’s free hand into his lap and cradles it there, stroking it with his thumb.

About halfway through the movie, Roman turns the octopus so that the cream side smiles at the screen too.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #logan sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #virgil sanders

[madswonders]

A Lesson In Romance #10: Thoughts

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Implied anxiety, Mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they're paired together on a case.

A/N: I know that the BAU's conference room has big-ass glass windows but just imagine that the blinds are closed for the entirety of this chapter aha. Also this chapter is a doozy... like 1k words longer than usual, so enjoy!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

---------

As Peter Gizzi once described the phenomena of love, "About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know / With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler."

In high school, your reputation always preceded you. The cynic that never had a boyfriend, much less a drunken one-night stand; a prude who waited over ten dates to have her first kiss; or the "ice queen" who kept her emotions locked up and threw away the key.

If they saw you now, you wondered if they would laugh at how you've changed; because these days, you looked like you were keeping the best secret in the world, one that threatened to burst from your lips every time you smiled.

What you didn’t know, is that you didn't need to be a profiler to see it. From the bubbling laughter and whispered conversations, to the not-so-secret longing glances. You and Spencer disappeared into your own world when you were together, and everybody knew it.

And for the first few weeks, that was enough. You found it easier than usual to ignore the thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind. That is, until you couldn't.

"... I want you and Spencer to work on the geographic profile." Hotch had announced, and you remembered the feeling of your blood running cold.

There were two reasons for this. First was the fact that this case linked twenty homicides across three years to a single unsub. If there was any case that required the two nerdiest members of the BAU to team up, this was it.

Unfortunately, that fact was closely followed by an overwhelming fear — and you wanted to preface this by saying that you were usually a woman of logic and science — but, somehow, you couldn't shake the thought that something bad was going to happen to you and Spencer, and you weren't ready for it.

Leaning against the cool conference room wall, you tapped your toes in an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. You were trying to recite what you learned from your PhD; that your mind was jumping to conclusions and that it was normal to be nervous. It was normal to feel this way. You were normal.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, jolting you out of your mantra.

You realised your boyfriend had been talking to you for awhile now, but clearly, you weren't listening. You shook your head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Could you say that again?"

"I was just saying, you can start by pinning the names and locations of the victims, and I'll put up the crime scene photos... but are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, this time shooting you those puppy dog eyes that made you weak.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to work." You said firmly, grabbing the box of push pins. You felt his gaze linger on you for a second, before he began picking up his own stack of pictures.

The first hour sped by quickly as you and Spencer listed out all of the unsub’s possible motives and next victims. At the half hour mark, Hotch dropped in to check on your progress, bringing takeaway coffee and leaving with a rare smile.

At the second hour, the rest of the team returned with some new leads, and unfortunately, new bodies, but nothing that helped solidify the profile any further than what you already had.

At the fifth hour, there was no denying it. The team had hit a wall. While the rest of them were back in the field investigating more leads, you sipped on your second cup of coffee while staring at the evidence board. Spencer paced the room behind you.

"The messy dump sites. The carvings onto the victims' chests. One points to the unsub being disorganised and inexperienced, but the other is a clear, almost narcissistic ritual." The doctor thought aloud.

"Usually that means the unsub is trying to make a statement, but he killed his first ten victims before the police found out, then killed another seven and three right under their noses before going dormant. If he wanted to make a statement, why wouldn't he tip off the police or media sooner?" He grumbled.

"Are we sure it's not a taunt to the local police’s competency? Many of his first victims were found in secluded areas with limited police support." You pointed out, tapping the edge of your cup in thought.

"No, the victimology and locations are too wide spread. A taunt would present a clearer message." He said.

You turned around suddenly, causing him to halt in his steps. "Here's something completely off the wall — but what if the unsub was trying to achieve a specific pattern with his kills?" You said, gesturing with your cup.

Tap, tap-tap, tap, you created the rhythm with your finger.

"That would explain why he isn't acting like a narcissist. Maybe he's suffering a mental condition that compels him to complete a certain pattern, and subsequently, ritual with his kills. Could be rhythmical, musical, numerical..." You explained.

"Numerical. That's it!" Spencer squeaked, rushing to the board with a marker. "I thought these numbers seemed familiar earlier, that's because they make up prime numbers!"

He backed away from the board to reveal what he wrote. The numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11. A lightbulb turned on in your head.

"2, 3 and 5 make up the first ten kills. 7 is the next, which he managed to complete perfectly, but something happened to the unsub at 11." Spencer voiced your thoughts.

"He might have been incarcerated, or injured. But we can't rule out the possibility that he might have moved out of town and resumed the pattern elsewhere. So either we can expect 8 more victims here, or the unsub has already moved onto the next number: 13." You quickly finished the train of thought.

"Love, you're a genius!" Spencer rushed over to pick you up by the waist, twirling you as you laughed in relief. But the relief turned to surprise when he kissed you deeply.

God, he was good at this. Even when your feet touched the ground, it felt like you were seeing stars. Though it was only when your lips parted that he had the decency to blush.

"Love?" You breathed.

Spencer's cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment, but he didn't back away. Instead, he leaned forward, bumping your foreheads together gently.

"I didn't know you had that in you, doctor." You teased.

"Well, my mother did school me in classic romance literature from a young age. Not to mention, I happen to be a genius at most things..." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you giggled.

The doctor pulled away then, an adoring smile still plastered across his face. "Are you fee—" He began, but his voice died in his throat as his gaze fixated on something behind you.

"Ooooh, am I interrupting something?" You turned around to see none other than Penelope smiling coyly from the doorway, and the two of you jumped apart.

"N-no, nothing!" Spencer blurted out.

"All fine and dandy here." You added on, blushing furiously.

The tech analyst smiled deviously. "Well, I thought I'd come and check on my two favourite lovebirds. Anything else from the case for me to chew on? Except whatever that was earlier." She teased.

"Actually, there is." You cleared your throat awkwardly, while the good doctor looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

"We need you to search up murders in neighbouring cities that match the mutilation by our unsub, then cross-reference the time frame with any new residents. We suspect he might be trying to complete a pattern, and that he may have done it somewhere other than here." You said.

"On it, future-Mrs-Genius. I will get back to you so fast that you won't even have time to get down and dirty." She half-yelled that last bit, heels clicking as she walked back to her office. Before you could even formulate a response, she was gone.

You felt your boyfriend wrap his arms around you from the back. "Now, where were we?" He whispered.

You giggled, leaning back into the doctor's chest while he rocked your bodies side to side. "Are you feeling better now?" He asked.

"Next time someone says it's not as intense in here as it is out there, I'm going to give them a stern talking to." You joked.

"You know what I mean, love." Spencer reiterated gently, the pet name falling from his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. "If you tell me about it, I can help you. You know I'm always here for you."

You sighed softly, blinking back tears that threatened to spill.

"It's something stupid. I-I'm fine."

He turned you around, brows furrowing in concern when a tear rolled down your cheek. "What's wrong?" He asked, wiping it away tenderly.

"I— I was worried about us working together." You admitted. "And it's not because I don't like working with you, but I just— I just couldn't—"

"Take a deep breath, love. Slowly." He held your shoulders as you breathed in and out, once, twice.

"I've been afraid this whole day — no, for awhile now — that something was going to happen to our relationship." You confessed shakily. "And it's not about our jobs — although I worry about that too — but I'm scared that one day you'll wake up and realise that I'm not worth the trouble."

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the next wave of tears.

"A-and it's only gotten worse because I've never been so h-happy with another person before. Only you've made me feel this way, and I'm t-terrified that I'll lose what we have."

There was a brief silence as Spencer pulled you close to his chest, one hand stroking your hair carefully. You could hear his heart beating fast.

"Do you remember when the team tricked us into sharing a bed?" He whispered, a hint of a smile trickling into his voice. "I think about it every single time we're about to go into the field. Because you said you'd never leave me, and now, whenever we're out there, I know I'm not alone."

He breathed in deeply, your head gently rising and falling together with his chest.

"You've given me someone to come home to, love. What we have, you'll never lose it, okay?" He whispered.

"Baby, I—" Your voice halted. Crap.

"Wait. Baby?" Spencer repeated back to you, a teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed, and you unwinded your arms from your boyfriend to cover your face.

"Oh god, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He pointed out. You let out a watery laugh, knowing when you had lost.

"Alright, alright. But I do have another ide—"

Then, the conference room phone rang. It was Emily. "Hey guys, Garcia managed to narrow down the unsub and we're 10 out, but we'll need some back-up."

"Be there in 15." You replied, while Spencer shot you an amused look, Luckily, he waited for the call to end before saying the next words.

"Let's go, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, already strapping on your kevlar. "That's it. You're not driving."

"Aww!"

---------

After the major breakthrough in the case — all thanks to Nerd 1 and Nerd 2, as Derek fondly called the two of you — the case managed to wrap up neatly and the BAU found themselves in a rare position. Ready to end the work day, on time.

Not that anybody was packing up to leave just yet, although you wished they would, because Penelope had decided to start enthusiastically retelling how she found the BAU's resident lovebirds in the conference room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

"Last I heard, pet names aren't a crime — and how long were you standing there anyway?" You accused, blushing.

"Firstly, they are. Criminally cute, that is!" Penelope squealed, while the rest were in fits of laughter. "And secondly, you should never underestimate my awesome ninja abilities, because I heard everything that I needed to hear."

"Do I even want to know?" Spencers winced.

"I don't think you do, pretty boy." Derek laughed, clapping the genius on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to how Spencer's pet name of choice is love?" Emily gasped in laughter.

"You've got to admit it's kind of cute, Emily." JJ smiled.

"Sure. If you're courting Mr. Darcy and attending cotillions."

"C'mon, Prentiss. All that means is that our boy's got style." Derek added to laughter, while Spencer whined in protest.

The door to Hotch's office opened suddenly, both him and Rossi stepping out with expressions of urgency on their faces.

“Sorry to break up the fun, kiddos. But there's been an update to the case.” Rossi announced, following right behind Hotch to the conference room.

The laughs were wiped off everybody's faces as you traded concerned looks. As you filed into the room, Hotch had already begun speaking.

“Another body was found half an hour ago. Same MO, same random victimology, and same kind of dumpsite. And the unsub just told us where to find his copycat.”

“Wait, we never profiled a second unsub.” Derek interjected.

"It doesn't makes sense — the first unsub is a control freak. He didn't like the idea of anybody messing with his sequence. Wouldn't he have done something if he knew somebody else was copying his pattern?" You asked.

"We profiled that he wouldn't be able to deviate from his pattern. What if he had to continue, even when somebody else was committing some of the crimes for him?" Spencer countered.

“Hold on, you said the unsub gave us a location?” Emily asked.

"And a time." Rossi voiced up. “8pm tonight at The Basil. The first unsub claims that's where the copycat finds his next targets."

"How do we know if we can trust him?" Derek asked.

"We don't. But he didn't display any telltale signs of doubt when he told us, and this is the only lead we have." Hotch's frown deepened. You had a feeling he didn't like the idea of this either, but the team didn't have a choice.

"Okay, if we're doing this, he can't know we're onto him," Emily thought aloud, "and we'll need precautions in case it's a trap. That means..."

"Undercover agents... and the bait." Hotch said with finality.

“And who did you have in mind for that?” You piped up, and everyone turned their eyes to you.

“You and Reid.” He stated the obvious.

“B-b-but, I’ve never gone—"

“You’ve more than proven your abilities in the field since you joined us, and having natural chemistry will make it less suspicious to the unsub.”

You opened your mouth, but no words fell from it. Hotch was right. Of course he was right.

As if hearing your thoughts, Spencer took your hand in his and squeezed, and you felt a little calmer already. “Ok, I’ll do it.” You said determinedly, while the doctor echoed your sentiment.

Hotch nodded, beginning to assign roles to the rest of the team while you squeezed your boyfriend's hand tighter, a new mantra forming in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

----------

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