#i actually had a headache earlier today but it's gone somehow!!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

part two for this <3

the coat becomes your favorite piece of clothing in the coming weeks, the shred of normalcy in your life despite not being particularly normal at all. as pathetic as it sounds, it's almost a lifeline of sorts, keeping you warm as your heart turns to stone and ice, deadened and silent. it unnerved your coworkers when they saw you so silent, so you do your best to act like you did before- with long-suffering wit and cheer. but it's hard to keep a facade up, and whenever you get home it slips and you settle into quiet melancholy, going through your routines mechanically. it doesn't help that you barely feel the need to interact with people anymore, becoming more of a chore than anything else. it doesn't help that the Fatui still roaming the streets are all tense and irritable, one even snapping at you for wearing Childe's coat. it doesn't help that Liyue's going through an icy winter, forcing you to take refuge in the warm fur jacket. but you don't mind the winter weather- taking walks in the woods and watching raindrops on leaves has become a habit. the coat is, as usual, hanging off your shoulders, the hood over your head as you meander down the sodden dirt path. the drops are freezing cold, almost sleet, but your coat is warm and soft as always. when the rain picks up, though, the definitely-not-waterproof coat begins to truly soak up water, each raindrop splashing and seeping down to your skin, and you shiver. you're not sure where to go- there isn't good shelter for miles- so you're surprised when you somehow happen upon a small hole-in-the-wall door that looks like it hasn't been used in ages. but old shelter is better than no shelter, and you push the door open, tumbling into a factory of sorts. the place is huge, an entire production line hidden behind an old, decrepit door, and you walk around in wonder. there's mechanisms and parts strewn everywhere over the floor, covered in dust and grime, and you pass through room after room covered in metal and grates. your amazement quickly comes to an end though, when you wander into an enormous room housing the true production line- Ruin Guards, hanging one by one from the ceiling, all deactivated, but all very much intact. and new. someone has been here recently, and you feel goosebumps on your skin prickling against your sodden clothes. despite how wet and heavy it is, you refuse to take the coat off, perhaps for your own petty reasons. a rustle of chains reaches your ears, and you turn and see nobody but a dark room beside you. spurred on by your curiosity, you venture inside, keeping a vice grip on the edge of your sleeve to temper the bubbling fear. the room is small- even tiny- and has a single inhabitant- a otherwordly bestial creature with a pair of red horns and a cape that sparkles like the stars, kept by tight chains attached to the wall. you're thinking about how peculiarly beautiful the creature is when the thought to run crosses your mind. but the beast isn't even attacking, it's just *staring* at you, with what looks like a mixture of pain, horror, and desperate relief. it's staring at you and your coat crystal blue eye flicking from your face to the jacket and back, and you defensively wrap the sodden thing tighter around you. the creature drags itself to its feet suddenly, and you take a step back, fear alight in your eyes, and it sees and opens its mouth as if to reassure you and tell you everything's alright, but all that comes out is a rusty-sounding chirp. but it's enough to get you to stop moving away, and the creature makes its way over with a prominent limp. it stumbles, and you instinctively dart out to catch it, falling to your knees under the weight. the creature simply exhales in relief, wrapping its claw-tipped arms around your tense body and snuggling into your hair, leaving you confused and scared for your life. you attempt to ignore the chains still rattling in the chamber, and you find yourself looking at the creature's broken, injured body and torn cape, and you wince when you realize the cape is actually a set of ripped wings. your hands are poised in the air, but eventually lower into the monster's hair as you allow yourself to relax and lean towards it, rubbing your cheek against the soft lilac fluff, just as warm as your jacket was. the creature's claws brush over the surface of your coat, tracing the details and stitches as if it finds *familiarity* in them. when you look up, a crimson forehead presses against your own and you find yourself staring into the beast's singular eye as it lets out a single, quiet purr. and then you know, and you can feel your heart melting and defrosting as you begin to shed amazed, impossible tears and wrap your arms tightly around the Abyssal beast that is the Eleventh Harbinger Tartaglia

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #gi ajax #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #genshin tartagalia #genshin x reader #childe x reader #me: writes this #me: hm #me: puts reference to the ruin guard factory #me: HMHMHMMMM >:) #GUYS i have so much brainrot help me #i should probably start making em into fics or something #OH also i just got done listening to 'everything goes on' and #goodness it is such a good song #i actually had a headache earlier today but it's gone somehow!! #wifi's brainrot #short scenario

[cookieswithay]

"Late night snacking" Actual fic😌

• Serious credits to @o0o0thorn0o0o She drew this lovely picture.

• Normal AU...really normal

•⚠️Spelling mistakes, swearing and American names. And a little suggestive talk at the end ⚠️

• (You guys can guess who's who by the names🤭)

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°

• "Godammit, Issac, turn the light off already!"

• Hey, the names Issac Kennedy. I'm a college student and currently taking a writing class. And right now, I'm studying for a upcoming exam. With my irritating roommate "Ronnie" pestering me.

• (Ron/Ronnie: A tall fake redhead with a bunch of tattoos. Is (somehow) in all my classes and is on a basketball team)

• "Hell no, I'm not done studying." I snapped back. He's know my damn schedule. He scoffed.

• "Study some other night, the exam is next week"

• "Well if I'm keeping you from your bedtime, go sleep at your girlfriend's!" Silence. I snickered. Ronnie's still too "respectful" to sleep over at Rebecca's.

• (Rebecca: A tiny brunette who badgers me. Unlike Ronnie, she doesn't look her age. She takes the real estate class and is actually relationship with him)

• Now, that he was quiet, back to what I was doing.

• *Whack!*

• "Ow!" I heard laughing. I turned to see Ronnie standing up with a blanket. "Oh, sorry Issac," he said.

• "The pillow just happened to slip outta my hand."

• My jaw clenched. "You bastard." I muttered. He smiled and headed towards the door. "See ya, Issac." I scoffed. After waiting a few minutes for the pain wear off, I got back to my practice test.

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•

• ~Rumble~

• Damn. As usual, my stomach's interrupting something important. I'm almost done. Maybe, I could...no, no. I sighed and pushed away from my desk. (Hunger pains are no joke) I looked around. Damn, I didn't swipe anything today? I sighed again and stood up. I hate going out at night.

• ~Little later~

• As I walked down the hallway, I started racking brain for eating options. I'm still busy, so I'm definitely not cooking anything. Snacks...did I go shopping recently? My question was answered when I didn't see my name on anything. "Godammit." What've I been doing lately!

• "Olivia!"

• I jumped.

• "Olivia!"

• Oh crap, it's Tessa.

• (Tessa: Yet another brunette in my life, except I actually like this one. She's a childhood friend who I happened to see again when I got here. She's also best friends with a girl named Olivia and is practicing to be a professional boxer)

• "Olivia, we have curfews y'know! We could get in trouble!"

• Geez, way to keep it on the down low. After what felt like a FOREVER, her voice finally walked away. Phew. Let's hope Liv shows herself soon. Tessa practically had smoke coming outta her ears. Anyway, what was I looking for-

• "Issac!"

• I stiffened.

• "Issac! Down here!"

• Oh wait, I know this voice. I bent down. Sure enough, it was the wanted ginger under the table. I smiled. "Hey, Olivia." Instead of saying "hi" back, she pulled me under. By the collar.

• "Oliv-?"

• She covered my mouth. "Shush, shush." What the hell!? Seconds later, she let me go. "Okay, Tessa's is gone." She sighed and straightened out her shirt.

• "So, what brings you out into the wild?"

• She said putting the spotlight on me. (The wild, huh? I'll play along) "Well, I came outta the cave, cause I got hungry."

• She nods. "That makes sense," She smiled.

• "I usually see you when you're hungry."

• "You see me in the hallway too."

• (Damn, have I really been that scarce?) She nodded, and...then we started staring at each other. I cleared my throat. "Anyway, what's got you hiding from Tessa?" This a good talking subject, right? Olivia perked up.

• "That's right!" She said.

• "Well, I took a super long nap earlier."

• Oh yeah, she did have a headache earlier.

• "So, when I woke up, I was super hungry. But it was night then. That's when I decided to sneak out."

• I chuckled. "And that's why Tessa's prowling?" She nodded. "She's worried about me." I snickered. I swear, I don't think I ever had a boring conversation with Olivia.

• (Olivia Ingle: A beautiful girl with pretty orange hair. I never really got the chance to speak to her high school, but we became friends here. As you know, she's friends with Tess. And is taking the culinary class. Even though she has a odd taste buds.)

• "Can we come up from under here, now?"

• I asked. Anywhere is great with her, but under the table is gross. "Oh yeah, of course." She replied. I lifted the tablecloth and she crawled out. I did the same.

• "Although, you should've said something earlier."

• "Why?"

• "Your stomach was growling earlier."

• Holy! Godda- Mother of- I inhaled. "Really?" She nodded. Someone please put me outta my misery.

• "It's alright though."

• "It is?" I thought outloud

• "It's usually super embarrassing. But if you're around nice people, no one will care!"

• She said, with a huge smile. I nodded. "Okay." I said, leaning on the counter. Now, Olivia's rooting through the pantry while humming.

• It got pretty quiet for awhile, until she called my name. "Yeah?"

• "You can have these."

• I looked down. In her hand, were shooting star cookies. I would've been touched if those weren't Tessa's. (She usually eats those on cheat days) "I'm good," Because...

• "I'm on a diet."

• She paused.

• Shit.

• "Are you sure?"

• Options: keep up the lie and starve or chow down and get beat up by Tessa later. Eh, I'll take the beat down. It's not everyday I get to talk to Olivia alone.

• "Alright, you caught me," I said, throwing up my hands. "I was bluffing." She smiled.

• "I thought so!" She set the cookies down and walked towards the fridge.

• She put the usual on the counter: Icecream, Oreos, milk, barbecue lays, etc. Although the chip difference stuck out to me.

• "Barbecue, this time?"

• (She used green onion last time)

• "Mm-hm." She said, while nodding.

• "Last time, the green onion chips overpowered the so- could you open this please? Thank you. And-"

• I listened closely as Olivia chatted on. (And opened the chip bag) To be completely honest, I love talking to her. Sometimes, I even think I'm learning new things about her. Like she's dropping subtle hints about herself. Olivia's so...perfect. (Damn, am I blushing?)

• "Olivia."

• "Yes?"

• "Can you tell me how to make special french toast again?"

• ~Later~

• After snacking, talking, and watching a cat video, I (finally) looked at the time. Damn, it's 12.

• "Liv."

• She looked back from the counter.

• "Liv?"

• Dammit, I said that outloud. "Olivia, Olivia, sorry," I stuttered. "It's midnight now. Anything else you gotta do?"

• "Oh boy,"

• She said with her usual nervous laugh. "I hope Tessa didn't round up a search party or anything."

• "No, but I'm glad I didn't."

• We both jumped. Tessa's here! In a instant, Olivia was in my arms. (And I didn't even grab her this time) She took a breath.

• "Jesus christ, Olivia! Where the heck were you!?"

• ~Yet another later~

• After getting scolded AND hit (we both did), we got sent to our rooms. Luckily, Tess was nice enough to let us walk together. "Damn," I grumbled. "Does she usually hit this hard?" I haven't been scolded by Tessa in awhile.

• "We actually got lucky." Olivia responded.

• "She held back because she was worried."

• She held back!? I feel like my head's bleeding. "Oh." I replied. "Good for us, I guess." After some more talking, we were at her room.

• "Well, this is my stop." She said, smiling again. "Tonight was fun," She said.

• "Even if we did get in trouble in the end." She said, with a shrug.

• "It wouldn't be the first time for us." I muttered. We nearly get screwed alot. Welp, better say bye-

• "Oh! I almost forgot!"

• Olivia said, running into her room. Uh... I peeked in.

• "Oliv- Ah!"

• "I got it!"

• She shouted, conveniently coming out right now. "Right here," She pulled me back on my feet. And gave me a pink flyer. "A sweet festival is happening on Melody road this saturday!" She said. "I asked my friends the other day but they all have plans,"

• ...Is she asking me out?

• "So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come?"

• She is asking me out!

• I cleared my throat. Play it cool. "I gotta drop my sisters off at a friend's but,"

• Play it cool!

• "I'm free."

• Yes! She smiled, but turned it off. "Uh...Olivia?" She did a quick look around.

• "Tessa's still in the bathroom, right?"

• "Yeah?"

• "Okay, good."

• Before I could say anything else, she wrapped her arms my neck. And...kissed me. ACTUALLY kissed me! Not on my cheek, not on my top lip, a real life kiss! When she pulled away, she covered her mouth.

• "Um,"

• She looked down.

• "You still wanna go to festival, right?"

• "Yes!"

• Normally, I would've been embarrassed about the giddiness. But, I'm SO not thinking straight. Olivia blushed and started messing with her hair.

• "Okay, see you on Saturday!"

• She said, smiling. Then she just ran into her room. Oh my god. I was kissed! By Olivia! I can't wrap my head around this!

• "What's got you jazzed?"

• I jumped. I turned to see Ronnie behind me. "What the hell, Ronnie!? Don't sneak up on me like!" Jeez, I almost flew outta my skin. He frowned. "Oh get a grip, Issac,"

• "Just wondering where you were."

• I sighed.

• "I was just walking around."

• "At night?"

• "Yes."

• "But you don't like going anywhere."

• Classic Ronnie, asking a ton of personal questions. "No reason, alright." Can he just drop it? When I didn't hear another nosy question, I looked back at him. He was just...staring at me.

• "What?"

• He blinked.

• "You got kissed, didn't you?"

• Huh!?

• I scoffed. "I have no idea what your talking about!" He started laughing. "You did!" God frickin dammit.

• "I have a girlfriend, doofus. I know the symptoms like the back of my hand."

• "I don't have any symptoms!"

• "I wonder who did it...?"

• I'm not staying for this. I turned on my heels, and started down the hall. I could hear Ronnie cackling behind me. Asshole- wait a sec?

• "Since we're on the topic of women,"

• (This'll get him)

• "What happened with Rebecca?"

• He turned red. "Whaddya mean what happened?"

• (He's dodging the question now.😏) "You went to her room like 2 hours ago, why'd you leave?"

• "If you must know, nosy I had to pick up something."

• I snickered. "What? Condu-"

• "Issac!"

• Now it's my turn to laugh! "Am I right!?"

• Instead of answering, Ronnie turned me around and basically starting pushing back to our dorm. After poking fun at him a little more, I ended deciding to do the practice test tomorrow.

• (It's not like I'd be able to focus after tonight)

• So now I'm laying in my bed, wondering about my date... What am I gonna wear!?

•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

Heyyyy! This took awhile for no reason! I was so lucky to find a ICHIHIME artist who didn't have a price tag on her art. Please check her out her art is lovely! @o0o0thorn0o0o As usual, stay cool.😎

The cute little models⬇️

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #pastelfriends #American names #new au idea #sucessful #midnight snack #snacks forever #wish I added more characters #pt 2 may come to life #Ichihime #renruki

[tri-punisher]

day 3 on ritalin: new feelings in my body this time. there's an ache in the back of my neck today, if i move my head too fast the back of my head aches too. i don't know if it's somehow related to my posture, but i've been leaning back in my chair trying to watch lotr, so i don't think it's related to that cus this is how i normally sit, and i usually only get achey when i'm leaning over my tablet to draw, which i haven't done at all today.

earlier, not too long after i first took a half a tablet, both my feet and my hands felt a bit tingly, and then i had, like. idk how to describe it. you know when you sit down under something warm and you feel really good and comfy and that sort of weird but nice sensation momentarily pours over your whole body. that happened to me while i was sitting at my desk. it was like my body suddenly felt warm and i got shivers but i wasn't actually cold, sort of felt similar to when the feeling just starts coming back into your limb after it's gone numb, before it gets painful with pins and needles. besides the ache in my neck i don't have a headache or anything like i did yesterday or the day before. i also didn't take a mirtazapine like usual last night--did not forget, i just thought it better i didn't take it cus i wanted to wake up early enough i could manage to take both halves of the ritalin today--so i wonder if that has anything to do with it.

#chit chat #text

[angel-anoetic]

What if you rewrote your last post, but this time it didn’t work, which leads to Skeppy and Bad fighting because Bad still tries to go back to the egg?

Alright, alright, I was not too sure where to start from this, so the last conversation between reader and Bad will be added, but with the alternate ending. Thanks so much for your request!!

SkepHalo x gn!Reader - Let Me Go

Genre: /rom, angst

Warnings: Injury, fighting

original ending

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Red Banquet. Of course, it had to happen tonight. You had done your absolute best to keep everyone away. But you could only do so much. It was the only way. Now you were trying to convince Bad to spend just a few more hours with you. Your final hours.

"C'mon just a quick walk. I promise we'll be back before the Banquet starts."

"Fine."

Yes, finally. Skeppy had been missing for the last few days so you took full advantage of Bad and your alone time, making sure to spend as much as time with him, whether it was a conversation over coffee or a late-night walk around the SMP.

You took his hand, making sure to walk a little slower today, pointing out things you had never really noticed before, and soaking in the sun.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" You looked to him.

He smiled. "Of course I do silly. Me and Skeppy were out mining that day. Somehow, we ended up in the nether and found you casually walking around in the lava, playing with a strider. I think that was the moment we both knew we had to be your friend at the least. I don't think we really thought we would be here though."

As you walked up the path to your home Bad stopped and turned to you, grabbing your hands gently in his.

"Y/N...I want you to know, I really am sorry for the way things have been. I never meant for things to go this far and I really wanted this for us. The three of us. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me, and we'll be able to pretend like this never happened."

He smiled to you, and you to him.

"I know. Trust me, this will be all over soon." He looked at you a bit puzzled but shrugged it off as you entered.

Once you were both set, ready, and dressed up you were off. Puffy knew what was meant to happen tonight. She swore up and down she would do her best to help the good prevail, regardless of whatever was to happen.

The dinner began, with you sitting, anxious but ready. Puffy kept side-eyeing you, her nerves just as evident.

"The Egg requires a sacrifice. One that will suffice its hunger for a time. Thankfully we have a room of guests."

Now. It had to happen now.

You looked at Puffy, giving her the signal. She motioned to Sam and Foolish.

You stood up, to Bad's surprise.

"Me. I want to be the sacrifice." His face changed. The color came back to him as he came to.

"What? No-no. This wasn't for you my love. We're going to rule together-"

Sam and Foolish grabbed Bad, holding him as tight as they could. He looked around as it dawned on him what was happening. The Egg would fall today.

You walked over, the fire slowly becoming more vibrant. You reached out to him, planting a small kiss on his cheek.

"This is for the best my love. Until we meet again. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me."

You turned, the tears not even having time to leave your eyes. You ignored the pleas of Bad, begging for Foolish and Sam to let him go and his calls to you, to turn around, to reconsider.

You blocked it out, letting the heat flow from within you out. You gathered what you could, and then some. Would this hurt? You weren't sure. Would this even work? The chances were 50/50. But if there was even a slim chance, you needed to take it.

You thought of the bad, the worst memories you could pull. You focused on the emotions, the feelings of what the Egg had put you through, what it had put those you loved the most through. That was your motivation. That was the reason your power, the fire, grew until you could feel your skin burning.

You stood on the top of the Egg, then waited. Waited until the fire was too much for even yourself. The Egg began cracking under you, screeching as everything around it caught on fire.

"We have to go. Now!" Puffy screamed. Everyone began filing out of the room. Foolish and Sam struggled as Bad fought against their restraint.

"Bad," Puffy crouched in front of him "this is not your fault. They wanted to do this themselves. They wouldn't want you here to see this."

He sobbed as he continued to fight. He was too late. They dragged him out of the room as the walls surrounding them began to topple down.

You had long lost feeling, only letting the fire consume everything around you. You fell to your knees, unrelenting.

Goodbye, my love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes tried to open, but even that was too much effort for you. You could hardly feel your skin. Your mind refused to feel anything.

"I don't know...could be a while."

Sam?

"Please just tell me they'll be okay. Please."

Skeppy.

You let out a small groan. Your eyes finally began to push open.

"Y/N!" Skeppy nearly grabbed at your hand before remembering the aches and pain Sam told him you might experience. "H-hey, how are you feeling?"

"Crappy." You both laughed.

"Language." You heard the small mutter from the doorway. Skeppy and you turned to see Bad, tears staining his face, silently holding himself.

"Bad..." You patted the bed next to you, an invitation he accepted gladly.

He looked at you, the pain and regret visible in his eyes.

"Y/N, I am...I'm so sorry." He let out a small sob, covering his face, "I never, I never would have let you do that if you had told me-" You grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"It's okay. I'm here now. That's all that matters. But please, tell me, did it work? Is it gone?" Skeppy shook his head, gently taking your hand.

"I'm sorry Y/N, you did some pretty decent damage, but it's still here."

You looked at the ceiling. Damn it. All that mattered right now was that both of your boys were here with you, regardless of how you had ended up here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first few days had been great. Skeppy and Bad refused to let you do anything on your own, despite your protests. You finally drew the line when they offered to sleep on the floor so you could have the bed to yourself. Bad got up every morning to make you breakfast and took care of you during the day. Sometimes Skeppy would stay home and you would all enjoy a movie.

Until about two weeks ago. You weren't sure if it had been you or Skeppy who noticed first, but nonetheless Bad's absence in the late hours of the nice. He would be back in bed by the morning, but soon he would leave earlier and earlier in the evening.

You were laying in bed, trying to stop a headache from taking over when you heard the door open quietly. Skeppy stood up from where he was standing and crossed his arms.

"Where were you?" He asked a disheveled-looking Bad.

"Nowhere important. How are they?"

Skeppy scoffed, "Just admit it. I already know. But I want to hear you say it. They're doing just fine actually, just a slight headache."

"Skeppy, I don't know what you could possibly mean. I was just enjoying the server for once."

"Stop lying to me. Just say it so I don't have to push it out of you."

Bad groaned and made his way to the kitchen, Skeppy followed, leaving you on the couch.

"I can't believe you sometimes. Y/N is still on bed rest because of what they did for you, for us, and you have the audacity to go back to the Egg!"

Bad stopped and looked to Skeppy. "How-It doesn't matter. Because I'm still my own person Skeppy, I can make my own decisions."

"Oh yeah, my bad, I forgot the world just revolves around you. What about me? What about them?!"

The fight was starting to get to you, pushing your headache to a worse state.

"Skeppy, it's not like that. You know it's not like that. This wouldn't even be a problem if you didn't make it one. Stop being so dramatic."

"I'm being dramatic? Y/N almost died trying to destroy that thing so that we could be free, even if it was without them. And you're here, turning into the same person you were months ago. Do you even listen to yourself?"

"Leave me alone! Let me live. I know what they did, but I also know what the Egg could do for us. The three of us!"

"Skeppy..." You called out softly.

He quickly rushed to you, feeling your forehead, grabbing a wet towel from before. "It's okay, you're okay, I'm sorry for all the screaming darling."

Skeppy waited until you closed your eyes, falling into a light sleep. He refused to look at Bad, studying your face.

"You won't do this to us again. I won't let you. I think I can trust you enough to make the right choice because I know that the Bad that I and Y/N fell in love with is still in there."

Bad stayed silent for a moment.

"I'm going to go before I say something I'll regret."

Bad slammed the door and was off. Skeppy could feel the tears welling in his eyes, but held them back, stroking your face softly.

#skephalo x reader #skephalo angst #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #rewrite #skephalo imagine

[spooderboyandtincan]

You’re Gonna Miss Me

(When I’m Gone)

Read on Ao3

/ST*RKERS DNI/

~~~~~

Tony doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

That’s a lie. Utter bullshit. He’s lying to himself. Tony knows exactly why his heart is fluttering in his chest like he’d run a marathon, why his chest struggled to rise like there was twenty pound weight rested on it. 

Though to be fair, when he made an anonymous donation of a meager 50,000 dollars to Midtown Science and Technology, he hadn’t expected Peter’s decathlon team to put in a request to the school board to travel abroad, and he definitely hadn’t expected the school to immediately approve it. He thought they’d use it to replace the sudsy water in the bathrooms they called soap with the real stuff or some shit, not whisk his kid away to Vienna for a whole week where Tony couldn’t even hug him, couldn’t protect him. 

Peter is thrilled, though. Ecstatic. When he’d broken the news to Tony and May, he’d been over the moon with excitement, his round cheeks flushed pink and his eyes gleaming. Even two weeks ago, Tony had felt a deep sense of apprehension kindling in his chest, but with the date seemingly so far away, he’d pushed it to the back of his mind. 

He wishes now that he’d done something. He should have told Peter he couldn’t bear to be without him like he was an actor in a cheesy soap opera (it was true, he couldn’t); tell Peter he needed him on a “mission” that would mysteriously be canceled. Though they’d probably end up taking a plane or a suit to Vienna anyways (despite what he liked to say to Rhodey, he was not at all immune to Peter’s puppy eyes); hell, he should have purposely tripped on the stairs and broken his leg so Peter, sweet, kind, empathetic Peter, would immediately decide to stay by his side where Tony could keep him safe.

He missed Peter when he was at his apartment in fucking Queens, thirty minutes from Stark Tower. He didn’t know how he’d handle having him 4,222 miles away. He didn’t know if he could.

“Damn,” he hisses, pushing himself from his bed with a grunt and making a beeline towards Peter’s room. He dashes in. The sight of his sleeping son (read: lump of blankets) is enough to take his breath away.

Tony had missed him. It had been four hours since he’d tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, and Tony had missed him. Peter was fifteen feet away. 

This trip is going to be the death of him. He’s going to drop dead of a goddamn heart attack before Peter even gets on the plane. 

Tony sinks carefully onto the mattress and rests his hand on the boy’s neck, some deep, parental instinct in him immediately soothed by the slow, steady beat of his pulse. Peter is curled under the thick blue blanket, only his chestnut curls visible which are tinged blue from the Iron Man nightlight on the wall, his breath puffing out in those little snuffling snores that Tony absolutely adores. 

He leans down to kiss his temple, inhales the familiar scent of his favorite strawberry shampoo and is overwhelmed by the wave of infinite love that washes over him. He loves this kid so much it sometimes hurts. 

Leaning back, he smooths his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. He doesn’t want to leave the boy’s side. He doesn’t know if he physically can. Maybe asleep Peter has somehow sensed this, because there’s a small mewl from the bundle of blankets, and two bleary doe eyes flutter open. 

“T’ny?”

“Hey,” Tony whispers, running a hand through his curls. “Hey, jellybean. Sorry I woke you up.” Peter rolls over with heavy limbs and rubs his eyes with a fist in a childlike motion, yawning in a way that resembles all those yawning kitten videos he’s made Tony watch. 

God, he’s adorable, Tony thinks. His heart is melting. He’s so small, so young. Tony feels an instinctual, almost uncontrollable urge to protect this kid, to wrap him in his arms and keep him from harm for the rest of time. 

Peter is oblivious. “‘S… s’okay,” he mumbles. His hand sneaks out of the blankets and tugs on his arm lethargically, which the genius knows is sleepy Peter language for “cuddle with me.” Tony chuckles fondly and slides under the covers.

He props himself up on an elbow and gazes down at his beloved boy, stroking a finger down his cheek. Peter smiles sleepily up at him from his assortment of pillows. “Hi.”

His face splits into a wide grin. “Hi, Pete.” 

Peter frowns at him then, a sudden change from his drowsy, half-asleep state. “You… you ‘kay? Wha’ time’s it?” He tries to sit up, but Tony hushes him gently with a “Everything’s okay, bud, just a typical 2am visit from your friendly neighborhood Iron Man.”

He smiles, so Tony counts the joke as a win. It’s not one of his best, but hey, forgive him if he’s a little anxious about his kid going to another fucking continent. 

(He refuses to acknowledge that it’s not just being away from Peter that’s stressing him out, it’s the fact that anything could happen to him while they’re apart.)

Tony looks back to Peter, opening his mouth to talk, only to find that he’s completely conked out. He balls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipes the line of drool tracing down the boy’s chin away, finding that a soft smile has formed on his face, the one that only makes its appearance around Peter.

Peter snuggles into him the second he lies down, resting his curly head just over his heart. Tony wraps a protective arm around his back and rubs small circles on his soft blanket hoodie. “G’night,” he whispers, bending to kiss the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, baby. I love you.”

He can feel Peter’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his chest- can hear his soft kitten snores. The warm weight of his body is so comforting that for a moment he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this trip isn’t going to be the end of him. That everything’s going to be okay.

~~~~~

Peter’s starting to regret eating all those waffles for breakfast. He feels shaky all over, like he could collapse or throw up any second. He’d told Tony he was going to pop in the bathroom, but he’s been in there for at least ten minutes, settled back on his heels on the cold, grimy floor of an airport bathroom, trying to breathe properly.

Speaking of Tony, he can hear the man just outside the door, typing on his phone and sipping from a cheap cup of coffee. Peter immediately experiences a hot flash of guilt, realizing that he must have grown worried while he was gone. 

Sure enough, the door swings open and there’s a soft knock. “Pete? Everything okay, bud?”

Peter stands up and unlocks the stall. “Tony,” he sniffles, taking an unsteady step forward. Tony rushes forward and gathers him in his arms

“Whoa, hey, hey, you’re okay,” he says gently, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “You’re okay, Pete. Breathe, just breathe, bud. It’s okay.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispers. “I don’t know, Tony, I-I wanna go, but I can’t, I don’t know w-what to do.” 

“Breathe, honey. It’s okay, I’m here, we’ll figure this out, okay? You just gotta take a breath, alright?” 

Peter tries- fails. Tries again, and manages to gasp a breath in. “Sorry,” he croaks, when he can properly breathe again. “Tony, I-I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, squeezing him tight. “Nothing to be sorry for, Pete.” After snatching a paper towel and soaking it in the sink, he runs the scratchy cloth over Peter’s face and kisses his forehead when he’s done. “Okay, bubba. You wanna go back out or stay in here?”

“Out,” he replies without hesitation. The flickering white lights above are starting to give him a headache, not to mention the leaky faucet and the freezing tile floors and the faulty air conditioning. Tony leads him out with an arm around his shoulder and guides him to a little nook, where they both plop down on a neon green beanbag. 

“My parents died in a plane crash,” Peter whispers. 

Tony squeezes his shoulder. “I know buddy. I’m sorry.” Unlike a lot of the “sorries” Peter has heard, this one is sincere. Sometimes he forgets that Tony is an orphan too. 

“I- I mean, logically, I know the plane won’t crash,” he continues, “But I guess it’s still hard for me to believe that. Like a- a gut feeling?”

The man nods in understanding. “I know how you feel, kiddo. I was terrified of cars after my parents died- I took the subway everywhere despite the paparazzi bloodhounds.” Tony doesn’t broach the subject of his parent’s deaths often, especially not in a crowded public airport, so Peter makes sure to pay attention. 

“Then, the fear just kinda… vanished.” He wiggles his fingers dramatically. “I started driving without even thinking, didn’t realize I was in a car ‘til I got on the highway. I had to pull over when I did, but since then, I’m perfectly fine with cruisin’ at 80 mph. But,” he says seriously, meeting Peter’s eyes. “I think you should listen to what your gut’s tellin’ you, buddy. It’s important to listen to yourself- what inner you is saying.” He pokes Peter’s belly a couple times for good measure, which makes his face scrunch up adorably. 

Peter nods, and really tries to listen to his gut. The pair both go silent in concentration, and then- his stomach grumbles. They both burst into laughter, born more from nerves than hilarity.

“Inner you wants to eat,” Tony snorts. “I think I saw a place with the biggest blueberry muffins of my life by the escalators, wanna stop there?”

Despite eating a huge stack of waffles just hours earlier, Peter wolfs down two of the gigantic blueberry poppyseed muffins, much to the amusement of Tony.

They made their way to the gate, where Peter’s teacher, Mr. Harrington was lounging, dressed in an ugly red sweater, his long legs stretched in front of him. 

“Peter!” he cried as he spotted them, scrambling to his feet. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I had the wrong date! We’re leaving today, right?”

“Oh, yeah Mr. Harrington, we’re going today!” Peter laughs. He’s used to dealing with his scatter-brained teacher. “I’m actually here early, the plane’s supposed to leave at 1:00.” He gestures vaguely to the big digital clock over his head reading 11:54 AM, EDT. 

Mr. Harrington frowns. “I thought it left at 8 am! You mean I’ve been here for hours in this awful chair when I could have been sipping a piña colada in my jacuzzi?!” He collapses back in his chair and pulls a sleeping mask over his eyes with a sigh.

“Sorry, Mr. Harrington,” Peter chuckles, then pulls Tony to a row of uncomfortable seats in the corner of the waiting area. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a bit, just watching the various travellers rush past. A little girl, around two or three, comes up and shyly asks for Tony’s autograph, but no one else recognizes the genius. (Thanks to his foolproof disguise of a baseball cap and scarf covering up his iconic beard, the genius claims.)

“So, what are we thinking?” Tony asks after about half an hour. “Do you wanna go?” He secretly hopes Peter will say no, hopes that they can go home and binge watch all of the Star Trek episodes and fill their bodies with junk. 

Peter nods hesitantly. “I think so. I-is that okay? I might change my mind, but- yes. Yeah, I think I want to go.”

 Tony squeezes his hand. “Of course it’s okay baby, that’s perfectly fine. If you change your mind, you know what? That’s great too. Whatever you want, that’s what’s important.” He kisses Peter’s forehead and lets his hand linger for a moment where it rests on the boy’s cheek. “If you change your mind at any point, I’ll come pick you up, okay?”

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter breathes, slumping heavily against his side.

“Of course, bud. Anything for my Peter.” 

They stop for lunch at a cozy little coffee shop, which is thankfully devoid of fans and paparazzi. Peter orders (or rather, makes Tony order) a small hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream) even though drinking a lot before a non-stop ten hour flight is probably not the best idea. (He can’t help it. He’s nervous.)

When the pair gets back to their gate, they find Ned and his family. The boy’s greet each other enthusiastically, performing their signature handshake, while Tony simply throws up a peace sign to Ned’s rather stunned parents. 

The friends pull out their phones -probably playing one of those ghastly animated games that Peter is always quoting. Tony pretends to look busy on his phone, but really, he’s just trying to distract himself from the terrifying fact that he’s not going to see Peter for a week.

Too soon, the speaker crackles, a crisp voice announcing, “Attention. We are now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria. Now boarding flight 367 nonstop to Vienna, Austria.”

Tony’s heart stops. Peter freezes. 

No, they think at the same time. Not yet. 

Peter turns to Tony, panicked. “Hey,” the man says, pushing away every anxiety, every worry away so he can focus on his kid. He sees Ned approach them, but stop when his father places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby, it’s okay.” 

“Tony.” Peter wraps his skinny arms around his waist. 

“I know, baby, I know.” Tony kisses the top of his head and hugs him close. “Follow my breathing. You’re okay. We’re good.”

Around them, the members of the decathlon team are rising, but Tony and Peter sit in those unforgettable chairs, clutching each other tightly, not yet ready to let go. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whimpers. 

“I know kiddo, me too. I’m gonna miss you so much, but I’m always gonna be here, okay? If you need me, just call, or text, use morse code, doesn’t matter. I’m always here for you.”

“I’m here for you too,” Peter says. “I- I’ll call you every day.” Peter’s bottom lip is trembling, just barely, but enough for Tony to hug him a little tighter and kiss his forehead. “I love you, Tony,” he sniffs.

“I love you too, Pete. I love you so much.” Tony’s not crying. He’s not. The restaurant a few stores down is just cooking onions, that’s why his eyes are watering. 

Peter pulls away and grabs his duffel bag, taking a step toward the loading dock. Tony tries not to burst into sobs. Stay, his mind whispers. Please stay. 

Then Peter turns around, eyes full of tears, and slams straight into Tony’s chest, hugging him so tight he can barely breathe. Tony rocks them back and forth, cherishing everything about his sweet boy. When they finally break apart, Peter says, “I’ll be back before you know it,” echoing what Tony has said to him so many times before he leaves for a business trip. 

Then he smiles a watery smile and runs to catch up with his best friend. Just before he disappears into the loading dock, he turns around and waves wildly at Tony.

Tony waves back, grinning. “I love you,” he mouths.

“I love you too!” Peter mouths back, and steps into the dock.

“I love you,” Tony whispers, hastily wiping the dampness from his eyes. “I love you, Peter.”

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

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#chapter 1/2 #peter parker #tony stark #ned leeds #anxious thoughts #panic attacks #peter parker needs a hug #peter parker gets a hug #tony stark needs a hug #tony stark has a heart #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #other tags to be added #no st*rker #st*rkers dni #my writing

[arteacactus]

Can we get a sick fic Janus hiding in his room until someone else breaks down the door? Cause he thought no one would care

this is so out of nowhere bc i like never get fic requests here anymore it’s like always on my sideblog hissceit ,, but it’s 10000% welcome and appreciated JDFJFD thank u .. also i apologize for how needlessly wordy this is HAHA i strayed from the prompt like .. a lot

warnings for sickness , the coughs , vomiting, sore throat , etc , the whole shebang-- and some cursing 

-----

It’s not that Janus had never been sick before, it’s just that...

Well, he’d never been sick before.

He wasn’t positive why (which irked him; he hated being in the dark about things, especially things concerning himself), but he had some theories- the most plausible one thus far simply being that while Thomas had always viewed the Light Sides as human, to some extent, he saw Janus as a two-faced snake; a monster kept hidden away in the shadows under his bed. And monsters didn’t get touched by things like disease. So while the others got touched with sickness occasionally, Janus never did.

But if Janus was getting sick now..

That implied that after he told them his name, Thomas started seeing him as somewhat human, too, with vulnerabilities like the rest.

He wasn’t sure just how he felt about that, but he didn’t love it (he liked being untouchable, okay?).

Ah, well, Janus supposed the why didn’t matter much at the moment. He could ponder that after the fact.

Right now was the time to think about how to end it, because it was pure torture.

He was too hot and too cold all at once, his head throbbed and his body ached in places he never knew could ache, his eyes were sore and oozing and his nose wasn’t faring much better. His throat was raw as if he’d spent hours and hours screaming at nothing, and even after trudging his way into the Dark Side’s kitchen for a cup of tea (though it was more like a cup of honey and lemon with a hint of green tea), it felt absolutely no better; in fact, he just felt worse, because he had to leave bed, go downstairs, spend twenty minutes standing around to make the tea, and then go back up the stairs to his room again.

He’d been fidgeting with his blankets for the past three hours; having them on made him too hot, having them off made him too cold, and so he settled for having one leg covered and nothing else (oddly enough, this was actually a good compromise). The air in his room was hot and stuffy which certainly didn’t help- nor did it help his sinuses any, as it made his headache pound worse and his airways were thoroughly blocked off. He dreaded drinking or swallowing anything as it sent the most uncomfortably painful sensation down his throat and rendered him to a groaning, pained mess.

He clutched his pillow weakly, pressing his head into the hot surface. He hated this. Usually, he thrived in the heat, as his room was typically colder than a jail cell, but this time he wanted it gone. He wished it was winter, just so he could full-body launch himself into a mound of snow and sleep for eternity. 

He felt a slight tug, the distinct feeling of someone requesting his presence, and promptly shooed it away. Not only was he just wearing pants, but he was sick, and he’d rather die than show that level of weakness to anybody.

Three days before, when he’d first felt his symptoms come on, he’d briefly considered going to someone for help; perhaps Remus, because he was his best friend, or Logan, because surely he’d know how to handle diseases and how to cure them, or maybe even Patton, because he was a father figure and might have even made him soup- but he had quickly banished the thought. Sure, maybe they knew his name now, but they still really didn’t like him and had absolutely no reason to help him and not laugh at his predicament.

Well. Remus liked him well enough, but he would have just taken his morning star and bashed Janus across the head with it and called it good, so Janus had to pass on that.

Another tug came, a little more forcefully this time, and Janus dismissed it, just as forcefully. For a little precaution, he took a deep breath and waved his hand, locking up his room so no one could rise up/appear in it, nor could they come through his door. The strain it put on him to maintain that lock was almost enough to make him pass out, but he didn’t dare remove it; he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him in this state. 

He forced his body to roll over to the side, pressing his face into his pillow and sighing in relief as his nose unplugged just enough to take a deep breath in. He found himself actually wishing he’d sneeze, just for the temporary relief it brought. 

He pointedly ignored the next few tugs that hit him, though they weren’t as forceful and harsh as the past couple were. He could only assume the only reason they actually wanted him up there was to lecture him, because him being incapacitated like this surely was affecting Thomas in some way that they didn’t like.

Well, sucks to be them, Janus thought in mild frustration, I’m staying right here until this all goes away and I don’t want to die anymore.

Eventually, the incessant tugging slowed to a stop, and then they finally left him alone.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Janus curled his body into a tight ball, cringing at the sticky feeling of his sweaty skin against his silk sheets, and tried to fall asleep.

Thankfully, sleep claimed him easily, and he drifted off.

However easily it came, though, it certainly wasn’t very forgiving. 

He didn't wake up randomly, but he kept getting thrown so many vivid nightmares and odd, fever-induced dreams that he almost wished he was waking up every few minutes, if only to get away from whatever things his mind kept throwing at him.

He wasn’t awake, but he was aware of his own constant tossing and turning, his bed creaking in protest every time he thrashed and threw his body around the mattress, and when he finally did open his eyes (his throbbing head wasn’t very appreciative of it), he realized he’d somehow twisted himself so his head was at the foot of his bead and his blankets had been fully tossed onto the floor. His pillows weren’t faring much better; only two of his usual six remained in place, and they were mangled to death, the rest on the floor with his blankets.

Janus truly couldn’t bring himself to give a damn- instead, he weakly pushed his body upright, trying not to topple over as his head swam, and fell right back down in the proper position. Thankfully, though, his head not touching the pillows in a while meant they were delightfully chilled, and he moaned aloud at the lovely sensation it brought him. Absently he wondered if he should gather the strength to get himself an ice pack or run an ice bath, but thought better of it. After all, he was still part snake; he’d rather not throw himself into a self-induced comatose state from the cold. 

He blindly reached out and grabbed ahold of his bedside clock, a little antique thing he designed himself to fit his aesthetic despite being very poor at reading Roman numerals, and squinted as he tried to decipher how long he’d been asleep for.

He nearly dropped the thing upon realizing he’d slept for eleven straight hours.

He slid it back onto his nightstand and groaned loudly, though it quickly turned into a pained, chest-wracking cough. He couldn’t avoid it; he had to get up and eat something, or drink something, or get literally anything in his body, because whether he liked it or not, that was the only way he was going to get over this thing quicker. 

He managed to move just enough to get up and off the bed (nevermind the fact he nearly fell straight on the floor the second he stood), and took a couple shaky steps towards the door. The moment he reached out to turn the knob, though, the knocking started.

He froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he stared wide-eyed at the piece of wood in front of him, the only thing separating him from them.

There was a call of ‘Janus?’ that was so soft, Janus didn’t actually know who it came from; but that didn’t matter now, because the doorknob was turning and fuck, when did he let go of his lock?

Janus snapped his fingers, and managed to summon all but his hat when the door opened and revealed- much to his surprise- Virgil.

Janus and Virgil blinked at each other for a moment, dumbfounded, but thankfully, Virgil didn’t seem to see anything off about him, and just lowered his gaze and shrunk into his hoodie, refusing to meet Janus’ eyes.

“We- uh, they were trying to call you earlier today, you know.” Virgil’s voice was low and gruff, and Janus could honestly say this was the best possible Side to come see him. Remus was loud and shrill, Patton was too cheery and Roman was boisterous- Logan probably wouldn’t have been awful, but with his insistence to look everyone in the eye as he spoke to them, Janus was sure he’d have deciphered what was going on in a second.

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, internally cringing at his rough tone. He cleared his throat, which was screaming in protest at speaking. 

Virgil didn't seem to notice- or if he did, he didn’t care. “Well. You made them worry, and they sent me to come collect you.”

“Worr- Collect?” Janus echoed in confusion, taken off guard by everything Virgil said.

“Yeah, uh, you worried them so now they won’t take no for an answer. You’re gonna have to come with me.” Virgil, at least, seemed a little sheepish saying this, but he also has a particularly determined and frustrated look to him. Clearly, he wasn’t happy being the one picked to come ‘collect’ Janus, and he wasn’t going to take no from him as an answer, either.

“Wh-” Janus was cut off as Virgil gripped his arm, and any protests he could have made died on his tongue as they started moving. Dizziness attacked him with such ferocity that he was honestly astounded that he hadn’t immediately fallen over, and his stomach lurched at the speed they were moving. Of course, he didn’t bring this up, just took a deep breath and pushed through. After all, Virgil was the last person he wanted to know about his current state.

Once Virgil brought them across the line that separated the Dark Sides from the Light Sides, the immediate bright artificial light from the lamps and ceiling lights making his head pound in a way that was even worse than what the red light of the heat lamps in the snake terrariums in his room caused. 

The air here, though, was clear and fresh, and he basked in the coolness of it as it surrounded him. If it wasn’t for the lights, he’d almost be tempted ask to stay for a while.

Once they made it to the living room, Virgil released him from his grasp, and slunk over into his own corner in the stairwell- and Janus found himself standing right next to Logan.

Unfortunately, they were all staring at him.

Time to put your acting skills to work, Janus, he thought to himself as he heaved an internal sigh, and plastered a toothy grin on his face that bared his sharp canines just enough to make them flinch away.

“So. I was summoned?” His throat protested speech, but thankfully his voice came out smooth and silky, not one bit of it hinting towards his predicament.

“Yeah, and you never answered..?” Thomas seemed more concerned than anything, but Janus definitely saw some suspicion on Roman’s expression (he couldn’t blame him, after how his name reveal went), and Patton was more fidgety than usual. Logan, bless him, didn’t seem to be acting any different, and Virgil looked just as bored as he usually was.

Remus, however...

Well, Remus was looking at Janus with a suspicious gaze similar to Roman’s but far more scrutinizing. Janus briefly felt a flare of panic. If there was anyone here to notice he was off, it would be his best friend, who he lived with and saw every day.

“I was resting, Thomas, would you blame your personification of self-preservation for taking a day off for self-care?” Janus’ tone was exasperated. He wasn’t lying, not really; he was resting, and he was taking a day off for self-care.

Just.. more than one day.

“Respectfully, I have to.. what is the term, ‘call bullshit’?” Came Logan’s voice next to him, and he hoped to God that Logan didn’t notice Janus’ feverish tremors. “You’ve been MIA for the past few days, and it’s escalated to the point where Thomas is beginning to react to it. There is something else going on, and we’d like to know what’s going on.”

Ah, yes, for the good of Thomas, Janus couldn’t help but think a little bitterly, Really, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like they’d worry about my wellbeing. “I’m afraid I wasn’t bullshitting you, Logan,” Janus replied coolly, “It was the truth.”

“Then how come your room looked trashier than Remus’?” Virgil’s voice, where earlier it was comfortingly gruff, was now an offputting growl. Despite his words, though, Janus could tell he was trying to act like he didn’t actually care. He took note of that, because Virgil caring about him was odd.

“Rearranging,” Janus replied simply, and hoped they took that alone as an acceptable answer.

Of course, they didn’t.

“You never rearrange,” Virgil’s tone turned accusatory, and then Patton cut in. 

“Well, maybe then that’s why he’s doing it now? For something fresh?” He sounded hopeful, as if he couldn’t wait for this entire conversation to be over. Janus felt similarly.

“I’ve lived with him, Patton, I know him, and it’s not something that happens.” Virgil argued, but this seemed to set off Remus as he cut in with, “And you left, so who are you to claim you ‘know him’?”

This sparked an argument amongst themselves, as they fought over the sudden new topic that thankfully centered around Virgil more than anything, and with Logan, Roman, and Thomas trying to mediate, there was no attention put on him anymore.

Janus took this momentary distraction to let out a sigh of relief, the mix of loud voices and trying to act like nothing was up was doing absolutely no good for his headache and exhaustion. He mourned the loss of his hat, because he could have used that to hide his face away from the lights that were bearing down on him and making his skin feel uncomfortably hot.

Though perhaps that was from all the layers of his outfit.

Unfortunately, though, as the seconds passed, the voices seemed to get louder, the lights got brighter, the clothes got hotter and his stomach was churning, his hands were sweating, his head was pounding his legs were getting shaky oh god his ears were ringing oh fuck fuck stop the noise please turn off the lights please stop please stop-

Distantly, he felt his throat start hurting intensely and he realized he was speaking out loud, stammering out pleads that were growing muffled as everything swamped him. His hands raised to cover his ears, trying to drown out the noise around him, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed, feeling something warm and wet trickle down his face- tears? Was he crying? No, surely he was just imagining the feeling- but before he hit the hard floor, he felt something grab a hold of him, long, spider-like fingers gripping the undersides of his arms like a lifeline. He felt sharp nails and soft ruffles and realized Remus had caught him, he must have run from his spot to catch him before he fell, and Janus felt the stinging gaze of everybody on him. He felt like a mouse that was dropped into a snake’s cage for feeding, cowering beneath the penetrating gaze of the predator before him. The roles were reversed, and he hated it.

He managed to pry open his own eyes- when had he shut them?- and the moment he saw the horrified gazes trained on him, he fled.

He forced himself from Remus’ arms and he vanished, retreating back to his room, where the lights were off and the curtains were shut and the only thing he had to deal with was the light of his snakes’ heat lamps.

The hot, stuffy air attacked him with a vengeance, though, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He stripped himself of his clothes again, his skin glistening, heat radiating off of his person. 

He hurriedly locked up his room again, and fell to his knees beside his bed, and retched.

Thankfully, he’d managed to grab his trashcan, but it didn’t make him feel any less humiliated.

He thought he was doing himself a favor, hiding his state from all of them, but from not going to just one of them when he could, he had ended up breaking down in front of all of them. 

Body trembling and chest heaving, Janus collapsed onto the hard floor beneath him, unable to pull himself onto his bed, and curled up into a tight ball.

He wanted this to end.

Janus was so caught up in his misery that he didn’t even notice pounding on his door, all of his senses wrapped up in himself, in his throbbing head and hot skin and burning throat and sore stomach and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, until there was a deafening ‘crash’ and splinters of wood came flying into his room.

He flinched at the noise and forced himself to sit up, but the sudden movement made him gag, and he found himself panting like a dog trying to cool himself off and calm down his raging nausea. 

There was a barrage of voices at first, but they were quickly hushed- from what, he didn’t know- and then a delightfully cold hand clutched his bicep, and he couldn’t hold back the relieved moan he let out in response.

“I’m gonna put you in bed, okay, Janus?” Came a soft voice- Remus- and Janus didn’t protest as he was gently lifted up by the Creative twin. Admittedly, he didn’t even know Remus could be that gentle, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

There was some quiet shuffling and the sound of a dull ‘smack’ and then someone cursing softly, but soon enough Janus was set down on a set of smooth cotton sheets, clean and cool, and an absolute blessing.

“Jan-Jan, why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” Remus’ tone was scolding, like a parent to a young child (ironic, considering Janus was the one who raised Remus), and Janus opened his eyes just enough to see Remus’ face swathed in the shadows of his room. 

“Weak,” Janus croaked in reply, his voice wrecked, “Di’n.. wan’ see.”

“Your pride is going to be the death of you,” Remus sighed, and Janus heard some other voices pipe in.

“We would have helped you, Janus,” Thomas sounded sad, almost regretful. For what, Janus would never know.

“Indeed,” Logan’s voice was a comfort, Janus was willing to admit. “In fact, I will begin researching how to best care for this as soon as possible, so you are in utmost comfort while you recover.”

“I’ll make some soup,” Came Patton’s quiet promise, “And water, and tea.”

“I changed your bedsheets,” Roman seemed shy, “If you need me to, I can try and make a set that keeps you cooled down.”

Janus almost moaned aloud at the thought, and Roman must have seen it in his expression because he perked up right away. 

“Sorry for, uh, dragging you away so forcefully,” Virgil muttered, and Janus just managed to flap his hand dismissively. 

“You didn’ know.” He mumbled weakly, and he felt Remus’ cool touch brush away hair that clung to his sweaty forehead. 

“And now we do. So we’re going to take care of you, because we care about you.” He promised in a tone with no room for argument, with the others murmuring in agreement behind him.

And for once, Janus believed him, and let himself be taken care of.

#vanna talks #ask #anonymous #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sickfic #fic #fanfic #sanders sides #tssides #thomas sanders #fanfiction #platonic dlamptr #with a slight focus on dukeceit i suppose #Anonymous

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Five Words

I’m back again ... this time with a requested ‘Leonard Betts’ follow-up ...

this tried to kill me a little bit ... not lying ...

@laurenclare88 @today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

No surprise to either Mulder or Scully, he was awake when she called, “hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, me, you okay?” Twisting his head back to see the clock behind him, “it’s almost midnight.”

“Feel like getting some hot chocolate? Coffee? Platter of waffles the size of your head?”

He heard something in her voice, and not sure if she’d been crying or sound asleep until five seconds before she called, he sat up, “well, Waffles and Stuff is open and in the middle so we can meet there, if you’d like, or if we hit Rolls and Holes, I’ll come pick you up.”

It was actually called Benny’s Café but they specialized in homemade cinnamon rolls and peanut butter donut holes, hence Mulder’s highly inappropriate, yet completely fitting, nickname.

She didn’t laugh like she normally did, juvenile as the nickname was, and he headed towards his shoes, wondering what could have happened since he left her yawning, at her front door, two hours ago, “Waffles and Stuff is fine. See you in ten.”

She must already be in the car because it took ten minutes to get there. Hurrying now, he tossed on a sweatshirt, then his jacket, heading out the door a minute later, turning left for the stairs instead of right to the elevator because hoofing it would be faster. The car ride there was quiet, traffic light, pavement dry.

Waffles and Stuff was empty this time of night, and as he parked, he spotted her already in their booth in the corner, having graduated from the counter a year or so back. Waving to both the cook and lone waitress, Max and Catherine as they had learned some time ago, he slid into the bench across from his partner, “fancy meeting you here.”

She didn’t feel like banter tonight, heavy burden weighing but not forming concrete thoughts able to be spoken out loud just yet. Instead, “you want to split the waffles or fly solo?”

“Scully.”

Hands on the table, she raised one in his direction, fingers waving absently, wrist bobbing in a ‘give me some time’ gesture, “I think I’d like to split a set of Belgian with extra butter and get bacon and sausage on the side. How’s that sound?”

Now she was just freaking him out. Stopping her flopping hand, “Scully? What happened? Is it your mom? Bill? Talk to me, please?”

She jerked her hand away from him, nearly taking out her water glass in the process, “just … they’re fine … I just …” frustration made her words stutter, nostrils flare, jaw tighten for a moment, “I haven’t …”

Not pushing in the moment, he leaned forward, holding his pointer finger up to stop Catherine’s approach, “do you want to eat here or get it to go? We can share in the car if you want.”

Eyes shutting, she took a deep breath, palms flat on Formica. Exhaling slowly, she found her center for a brief second, “just some hot chocolate for now.”

Mulder called the order to Catherine, adding a ‘thanks’ before returning to Scully, speaking slowly again, “are you okay?”

Her head shook a ‘no’, eyes glued to the table, fingers white. Mulder’s stomach tightened but venturing a guess that she’d had a nightmare about Betts and couldn’t form the words yet, he nodded, trying again to touch her, tracing his fingers over the cold knuckles on the back of her hand, “you’re fine here, okay? We can stay as long as you like.”

Caught between crying and screaming, she let him run his fingers over her for another moment before sliding back, hands dropping to lap as eyes bounced from his chin, then to his chest before landing on his still extended hand, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

She knew damn well she didn’t wake him up, but both realized she needed to steer them back to middle ground, neutral conversation, “you didn’t. I was watching ‘Golden Girls’.”

Not knowing this particular vice, she met his green eyes, almost smiling, “who’s your favorite?”

“Um, Sophia. What kind of asinine question is that?”

Hot chocolate arrived amidst the debate of Sophia vs. Rose and ordering their smorgasbord, things stayed light through another side of bacon and a second helping of hot chocolate. Stuffed by 1:15am, Mulder saw her drifting away again, heaviness settling where frivolity had been moments earlier. Tapping her ankle with his shoe lightly, she didn’t startle but refocused on him, “that better be you.”

Continuing, “it is.”

“Good. Otherwise, we’ll never be able to come here again.”

Catherine somehow managed to clean their table without disturbance, in, out, feeling the odd pall over them. Neither so much as glanced her way.

Subtly lifting his leg, he set his foot on the booth beside her, preventing any escape from his next questions, “what happened? Did you have a nightmare about Betts? Did you see something? Hear something?” He felt microscopic pressure against his ankle as her thigh muscles tensed to move but he held steady, not letting her leave. Voice dropping to a whisper, he leaned forward, “you’re starting to freak me out.”

Her face crumbled for a moment, then snapped back to normal 1 am, shifting gears a third time when her eyebrows crashed together, lip curling, chin wobbling in an instant, then back to normal. The gambit of emotions that crossed her face in under four seconds was heart-wrenching and Mulder followed along, panic about to overrun control.

Moving his foot, he shifted in beside her, arm around her shoulder, fear growing exponentially, his voice wobbling quietly in her ear, “what happened?”

“Betts told me I had something he needed.”

With the speed of a fucking bullet, realization froze his heart, and his other arm completed the circle around her, pulling her into his shoulder, burying his face in her hair, “Betts in a psychopathic fucker.” She couldn’t quite find words to tell him about the bloody nose that had sent her spiraling so she tried to move closer instead, wishing for a way to crawl into his lap without rebuke or reprisal. Ice still coursing through his veins, he choose denial mode as opposed to depths of despair, comfort instead of chaos, “he’s certifiable, Scully, why would you give him a second thought? A first thought, even?”

When she didn’t respond, he let go of her, standing, tossing money on the table and taking her hand, “come on.”

When he pulled away from her, she nearly sobbed, missing him in that second more than she’d missed him in … well … possibly ever. Seeing his extended hand started the roller coaster all over again and shifting, she followed in silence, little hand wrapped in big, not waving goodnight to their hosts, not seeing anything but his jacket inches from her nose.

Her nose.

And the slightest headache thrumming behind it.

She stumbled over the curb, running into his back, catching herself before hitting the ground. Her control was gone, her walls blown to hell, her mind focused on five words, four years, three drops of blood, two people, one soul and the suddenly ticking timebomb of a six-letter word.

She couldn’t say it.

Mulder had her face in his hands, trying to comprehend the unimaginable, eyes darting between hers, betraying any kind of cool exterior both knew he didn’t have, “you’re fine, Scully. You are going to be fine. Betts is … was … and ever shall be … nothing to us. He wanted to get under your skin and he knew how and he did it and he’s burning in hell right now and you can’t listen to anything he said. Do you hear me?”

Held still by large palms and calloused fingers, she let the tears escape, her voice reaching his ears in a wet, spitty, stilted stutter, “you … you didn’t hear … how he said it … Mulder. He … he had sympathy in his words, the look …” eyes closed for a moment, swallowing hard, “he looked genuinely sorry.” Choking inhale in, one sob shook both to their core, “he wasn’t saying it to be cruel. He was saying it … to be kind … and he’s dead and he can’t … he could have …”

Shaking his head, he finally pulled her into a hug, most of her upper body disappearing into his embrace, “he couldn’t have done anything, Scully. He removed tumors because he needed them. Doctors do the same thing. He didn’t cure, Scully,” he kept saying her name, needing to hear it out loud, prove she was still standing in front of him, his denial in place but his fear still winning, “he removed. Doctors cure, he mangled, he cut, he … he couldn’t have helped you but Leonard Betts doesn’t matter anymore because your fine and he’s gone and he was just fucking with your head because he could. He would have said the same thing to me had I been in the ambulance with you. I know enough about these people to know it would have ended with that phrase regardless of who was in the truck.”

Neither was sure who he was trying harder to convince and neither dwelled on it.

Instead, she stayed up on the curb while Mulder was one notch below in the gutter, hug evened out, height difference conquered with concrete and asphalt. A cone of silence enveloped them, traffic noise, barking dogs, airplanes overhead, all fading away, until, Scully, mess of emotions somewhat in check, spoke quietly into his chest, “will you take me home?”

“Of course.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Leaving his car behind, he drove hers to her apartment, both climbing stairs and locking doors behind. Her microwave clock now read 2:09am as she held out her hand to take his coat, walls still down, mind and heart exhausted, “would you mind sleeping in with me tonight? I wouldn’t normally ask but …” sentence running off to nowhere, she waited, eyes pleading in that Scully way.

“You got any sweats for me?”

Once in bed, not as awkwardly as either expected, they remained a civil distance apart but facing each other, eyes tired, eyes burning, eyes not breaking contact for fear the other would disappear in the time of a blink. Mulder, desperate to reach out to her, kept his hands to himself, “you’re fine. You will always be fine. You’ll go to the doctor if you need to tomorrow and he’ll tell you there’s nothing to worry about and then we’ll go ride roller coaster somewhere or run through the fountains of DC naked in celebration that I was right and you were wrong.”

She had already planned the following morning in her head but staying silent about that, she instead flashed him a small smile, trying her best to make it look genuine, to force her eyes to sparkle in amusement just enough to allow him to fall asleep in peace, “naked, huh?”

He saw through her bullshit like she was a plate glass window, “not on the roller coasters.”

“Oh, no. Definitely not on the roller coasters.”

Trying to keep his voice steady, “you’re going to be fine.”

Finally reaching towards him, his hand met hers halfway, “I know.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Sleep eluded him, preferring to listen to her stuffy inhale than to drift into slumber but even the great Fox Mulder eventually had to give in to sleep, drifting off around 4:15. Scully, faking until 3:30, woke at 5:45, slipping out of bed, five-minute shower, out the door by 6:30, leaving her partner behind.

Three favors later, she was trying to hold herself together in the MRI tube, magnets banging, head aching, muscles tensing with each new sound. How could that machine capture anything when her mind was racing so fast the images should just be a blur of thoughts, smudged terror captured in black and white, brought to you by the marvels of science?

She wished he was there so she could hold his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder could fake a few things as well. He woke when she left the bed, stayed still, eyes shut, while he listened to her shower. He heard her come back in, sort through her closet, open dresser drawers, felt the air in the room change as she did, donning armor for her day ahead. She was at the foot of the bed so not in his possible waking view but to know she was comfortable enough to do her routine with him asleep five feet away made him quake inside. He held it together, even as she returned to the room, keys lightly clinking in hand, to give him a lingering kiss on the cheek, to brush his hair back as her thumb ran over his forehead.

He waited five minutes after he heard the front door lock before rolling over, stretching, missing her beating heart and radiating heat. Staring at the ceiling when done, he refused to ponder, instead, two grunts and a back crack later, he was up, standing, heading to the shower.

Problem was, the warm water, the smell of her soap, the view of damp towel on rack and dry one beside, just for him, caught him off-guard. Halfway through soaping up, he broke down, standing under the water, sobbing tears covered by loud water pinging off the walls. He gave himself what felt like five minutes before straightening back up, finishing his shampoo and wash, ending with a steamy-mirrored pep talk during which he convinced himself Scully would be just fine.

Making the bed, he headed out, calling a cab to get him to the diner, then driving himself home, waiting impatiently for a phone call he knew was inevitable. He could have heading to the basement, he could have taken a nap, he could have stared at the wall and had a panic attack the size of Montana but instead, he read his email, his phone never far from his hand.

&&&&&&&&&&

Scully saw the mass, a bright white spot of dread in her sinus cavity, doctor explaining, in the background, diagnosis and treatment options, but most of her attention was filled with it.

It.

IT.

That thing settled comfortably next to her brain.

IT.

Mesmerized, she nodded when they asked if she’d like to be alone for a minute; if she would like to call someone.

And then it was quiet, the snick of the shutting door the only noise in the room.

Leaving just her and the bright white mass on the light board.

“Mulder. Could you come down to the hospital, please?”

She could hear it in his voice as he said, “which area?”

“Oncology.”

The sound of a fight building. The sound of defiance taking root.

Or denial.

“I’m on my way.”

#msr #MulderNScully #leonard betts #x-files fanfic #My writing #five words #four years #three drops of blood #two people #one soul #and the sudden ticking timebomb of a six-letter word

[jeongjaebae]

Love Station

⇢ Jaehyun x reader | AO3

⇢ 7k of fluff, heart fluttering moments, and meme references

⇢  You never expected anything good to come out of a train delay, much less for it to play cupid on this Valentine’s Day. 

Turning 23 wasn't something you were overly excited about.

Nothing good could come out of being this age anyway—you were starting to feel old and life was starting to feel stagnant. Besides, everyone's seen the meme about checking up on your friends born in a certain year because no one likes you when you're 23. But heck, you'd already felt that way for long enough so it doesn't really matter that it's your birthday today because no one liked you at 22 either. Or at any age.

Maybe that's why you're still single on this Valentine's Day, which coincidentally happens to be the date you enter your 23rd year since birth. Whatever deity that's up there probably planned this to give you a headache every year, making you watch couples all around you broadcast their PDA everywhere while you only became one year closer to growing old and wrinkly. And dying single.

"Are you on the train yet?" Yoojin's loud voice comes through the phone. "Also what are you wearing, because I'm having an outfit dilemma again."

"Almost at the station," you reply, checking the time for the sake of it. You knew your best friend would be late regardless of the occasion, so you never had to rush. "I didn't expect it to be so cold out here. Wearing the pink blouse with the bow, that black skirt, and some thin tights. Long coat of course."

Yoojin was your best friend of seven years and happened to be the complete opposite of you. While you were generally shy, she had no qualms about talking to strangers. She'd always been bold and unabashed with her opinions, attracting quite a large group of friends and enemies alike, whereas you have always stayed within your comfort zone of invisibility. And whereas you were completely dense and unlucky when it came to boys, she had a list of them long enough for the both of you.

"Tell me you at least have some tall boots on," she replies with some rustling sounds in the background as she probably flips her entire closet upside-down. "You should've gone with a warmer outfit; there won't be any boys around for you to impress! It's only your date with boring old me."

You roll your eyes and play along. "I'm dressing to impress the cute waiter, obviously," you say, "the one with the super sweet smile who looks like NCT's Doyoung." It's all made up, of course. In reality the two of you didn't have a reservation or even a restaurant in mind yet, and of course, there's obviously nobody who could ever be as cute as Doyoung.

Your best friend was all about being spontaneous and winging it, and even letting fate decide things.

"Oh you better hope that he's not out with his girlfriend tonight then," she singsongs. "Anyway, I'll go pick out an outfit now and bring a pair of leggings for you or something. Oh and before I forget, happy birthday!"

"Thanks," you say with a smile as you approach the train station. "I'll see you soon!"

It's slightly more crowded at the station than the emptiness that usually greets you at this hour, but that's not surprising since it's Valentine's Day after all, and people would have plans in the city. And just as you would expect, there are people holding big bouquets wrapped in a special paper with hearts all over it, packs of chocolates in pink and red boxes, and delicate single roses encompassed in beautiful ribbons.

It wasn't something that you felt like you were missing out on. You've never spent Valentine's Day with someone special anyway; it was always some sort of birthday celebration with friends. Until your friends started getting into relationships and then the birthday thing got pushed to different days. Either way you didn't mind because people don't need particular days to show their love for others, so Valentine's Day was all just a big marketing scam.

Or so you tell yourself.

The February air is cold and makes it hard to pry your transit card out from your wallet with your frozen fingers. When the machine nearby is finally free, that's when you go to tap your card.

"Don't."

A hand slides right in between your card and the machine, blocking it from being detected.

"Excuse me?" you automatically respond.

The first thing you notice about this annoying stranger is that he's tall, as it takes a while for you to look up to see the face of said annoying stranger. The second thing is that he's incredibly good looking. Nice skin, large eyes, and some evidence of dimples slightly visible on each cheek. A strong jaw line and sharp gaze.

But none of that matters because he better have a good explanation for you.

"Don't waste your money tapping your card. The train's been delayed and won't come until maybe an hour later."

"What? An hour? Is this some kind of joke?"

He shakes his head. "There was an announcement a few minutes ago but they'll probably repeat it soon."

"But it's not even April Fools Day," you mutter under your breath, but proceed to put your card away anyway. "Are you serious?"

That earns you a funny look from the annoying stranger, a mixture of a smile and a grimace of sorts. "Yeah, I'm really just going to go up to strangers and prank them by telling them about a train delay."

"Well, maybe if you're one of those YouTubers who go around pranking people for reactions?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, but your reaction was terrible, by the way. A two out of ten at most."

"Hey, you're the one who had to break the news to me like that!"

The corner of his mouth twitches but before he says anything back, the blare of the announcement comes on.

"Attention all passengers! Attention all passengers. The line 1 eastbound train is experiencing delays due to a technical issue on the tracks. It may be over an hour before the track can get cleared. Once again, the eastbound train is currently experiencing delays of an hour or more. We are sorry for the inconvenience."

"And there it is. Do you believe me now?" the annoying stranger asks, raising an eyebrow at you. It's not so much of an 'I told you so', but rather a sad 'welcome to the club'.

"Yeah... sorry for not taking you seriously."

"Nah, no worries," he shrugs and gives you a quick smile. The first you'd seen from him. "We're all just stuck here now."

When he turns to look at the announcement board, that's when you take the chance to really study him. He's dressed like he's walked out of a Korean drama: turtleneck and a nice formal jacket. He looks to be about your age, maybe a university student or fresh grad. Hair gelled up and parted at the side. Perfectly dressed to go on the perfect Valentine's Day date with his perfectly stunning girlfriend.

As perfect as it can be with this whole train delay issue anyway.

You follow his gaze to the announcement board and see that it now has red words everywhere, indicating all the delays of the trains. It definitely wasn't looking good. Even if Valentine's Day was nowhere close to being one of your favourite holidays, you were looking forward to at least seeing a friend on your birthday.

"Yeah, I guess so. On the one day I had plans in the city." You sigh at the thought that seeing your best friend might not be possible anymore.

 "I know the feeling," he frowns, somehow still looking just as good as before which is entirely a mystery to you, "I'm also supposed to be in the city tonight."

You nod, then pull out your phone to shoot Yoojin a quick text about the delay. The cold wind sears your hands and you yet again regret wearing so little when you knew this train station didn't have an indoor waiting area.  

"So, what are our options for getting out of here now? Do you think the buses are still running because we could probably take one?" he suggests.

The 'we' takes you by surprise, but then you realize that he's probably talking about everyone here. All of the ten or so people that are just stuck at this station in the cold for the next hour.

You grimace at the thought of dissipating his ounce of hope. "Well, the nearest bus station is all the way across town, so by the time we get there maybe the trains will have already started working."

The handsome stranger sighs. "Maybe an Uber then?"

"It'll be rush hour soon so that only works if you want to be going during the most expensive time of day using the most expensive form of transportation."

"Ah, that's true." He looks disappointed. "Hmm, if the trains don't come by the next hour, maybe I'll just head to the bus stop."

Oh how nice it would be to have a car to get there yourself.

Buzz. The phone vibrates in your pocket and you could already imagine how Yoojin would be reacting to your news. Hopefully she hadn't already started on her crazy makeup routine yet, because who knows if your meet-up could actually happen at this rate.

"It's chill, don't worry about it! I'll head to you instead. Text you when I'm near."

Sometimes Yoojin's spontaneity was just what you needed. You message her a quick thanks and then shove the phone into your pocket before your fingers freeze off.

It's quiet for a bit and you almost forget about the handsome stranger entirely until there's a crinkling sound and you find yourself staring at the rose in the pocket of his coat, the clear foil around it blowing gently in the wind. It was on the side facing away from you earlier, which is probably how you didn't notice upon first glance.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. With a face like that, who wouldn't have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend. Maybe even multiple.

"Special occasions, right?" The corners of his lips are curled as if holding back a grin, and like this his dimples are visible.

But why was he still talking to you? You figured he was probably just trying to be friendly seeing as the two of you would be stuck here for an indefinite amount of time. Maybe you'll even become all buddy-buddy by the time this ordeal finishes. While you weren't a fan of small talk or talking to strangers, it was nice to be able to have someone by your side who was experiencing the same struggles.

And besides, he clearly has a girlfriend so there was no point in writing that "strangers to lovers" fan fiction in your head.

You clear your throat. "So... Valentine's date with your girlfriend?"

"Valentine's—" he pauses for a second and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. "Right, it's Valentine's Day today. Nah, I'm celebrating my birthday instead." Then he holds up the rose up and glances at it as if he'd also forgotten about it. "And no girlfriend. This is for my cousin. Her boyfriend's overseas so it's hard for them to meet up, so I thought I would get something nice for her and keep her company."

That actually takes you off guard and causes you to replay the words in your mind to make sure you heard correctly.

"Wait, it's your birthday today? Really?"

He gives you a strange look. "Yeah, there are actually people born on Valentine's Day, believe it or not."

"That's not what I meant—"

"I'm just kidding." His eyes twinkle in amusement. "It's also your birthday today, isn't it?"

"What—how did you know?"

He chuckles. "Your reaction said everything."

"Wow, someone is a smartie."

"What about you? Valentine's or birthday date with your boyfriend?"

"Best friend," you correct him. "And yeah, it's a birthday dinner."

"That's nice. I've actually never met anyone else with a Valentine's Day birthday."

"Honestly, same."

His eyes curve up into crescents as he smiles with his entire body, and it's dazzling and is so bright that it makes you want to stare for just a moment longer. The two of you laugh for a while at that coincidence, still amazed.

"So, how old are you turning?"

You groan, "The age where no one likes you."

"Ah, I just passed that." He wrinkles his nose as if remembering how terrible a year it was. "But hey, can't have no one liking you at that age if no one liked you anyway."

His words immediately put an image of that roll safe meme into your head and you find yourself laughing.

"Wow, those are my thoughts exactly."

The handsome stranger only gives you an innocent shrug. His meme game was on point, and that almost makes your heart flutter for a second. Almost.

Another cold breeze whips your hair into your face and blows straight through your thin tights, making you shiver.

"Hey, um, I hope this isn't too forward... but since we're stuck here anyways for the next while, do you want to possibly go hang out in town?" He bites his lips a little, making his dimples stand out even more. "It just kind of sucks to see our birthdays go to waste like this. Only if you're comfortable with it though, but of course we'll be in public areas the entire time."

You couldn't believe your ears for the second time today.

On one hand, the logical voice in your head was screaming stranger danger because you just met him! You hadn't even exchanged more than a few sentences! On the other hand, you could already picture Yoojin telling you to never waste an opportunity, to go with the flow and live life a little recklessly. To stop waiting for a train that might never come, to stop waiting for perfectly planned moments in life that might never occur.

"So, what do you think?"

Besides, if he's not some crazy serial killer or anything along those lines, the only other danger you could possibly see was getting heartbroken. But of course there's no way you'd fall for a stranger in one day; you didn't believe in love at first sight or fate or whatever other mushy romantic cliches that movies love to portray. This would merely be a fun time between two people who happened to be stuck together because of a train delay, on a day that happened to be both of their birthdays. A simple coincidence, really.

"You know what," you smile. "Screw it. Let's go."

***

The smell of the arcade brings back memories from when you were a child—friends' birthday parties, hangouts in middle school, the occasional school trip. It had been fun as a child even though you hadn't been very good at any of the games and probably never won anything worth keeping. Looking back, you hadn't set foot in this place in years.

"We'll get the one with the most tokens," the handsome stranger—Jaehyun—says to the guy behind the counter, flashing you a smile when you raise an eyebrow at him.

Jaehyun. It had sounded so pretty when he introduced himself.

You'd been afraid that conversation would come out awkward and forced between two strangers brought together by no more than a train delay, not knowing where or when or how to start. But there was actually never a dull moment between the flow of words and laughter that made you feel as if he was someone you've known for a long time. The short walk to the arcade had been spent on reminiscing and comparing past memories of growing up in this town, brainstorming fun places and cool restaurants that you'd been to or have yet to go to, pointing at familiar buildings and telling funny stories about interesting moments spent in there.

"Come on, let's go." He leads the way into the main area where all the action is.  

The arcade still looks the same as the last time you were here, though everything seems smaller than you'd remembered it. Bright lights flashing from every machine, loud noises at every corner. So many games that you'd once thought it was impossible to play through all of them.

"Let's start with this one?" You point to the zombie shooting game. It was something that you had always wanted to try as a kid out of pure curiosity, but you'd been too scared to at the time.

"That one? Really?" He raises a brow at your suggestion. "Alright, but I bet I can beat you."

"I would also bet on you winning," you respond dully.

After choosing characters and weapons on screen, the two of you settle in your seats and finally start. It's like watching a horror movie where you expect huge jump scares at every corner except there's no music build-up or anything to warn you that a zombie might just show up. Horror was definitely not your forte but maybe he was better at handling these things than you were.

You get your answer when the first wave of zombies finally show up. Jaehyun screams. You scream.

Somehow you manage to shoot some of them by pure instinct guiding you, however your aim isn't exactly good with your eyes closed half of the time. By the time the screaming dies down and you notice that both your characters had died in the zombie battle, you finally turn to see how he's doing. The way his face is twisted in a mixture of utter shock and horror would've been something to laugh at if you hadn't been just as scared.  

"If I recall, someone said they were going to beat me at this," you tease after seeing the final score. Neither of you did particularly well, though your score somehow turned out to be much higher than his.

"You should've given me a warning that it would be this scary."

You burst out laughing at his expression. "I didn't know either!"

That's when you notice how you're clinging to each other. Your hand clutching his arm, his hand right on top of yours.

"Oops, sorry," you mutter and quickly detangle yourself from him.

"It's fine," he says with a laugh. "But yeah, those zombies were next level."

Needless to say, you guys don't go back to that game.

The arcade is quite empty on this afternoon and you're glad that most of the games are unoccupied and can be played right away. Even with everything going well so far, you still have the fear of having awkward silences and uncomfortable conversation.

It's a while later when you try again at a different shooting game, though luckily this time it isn't zombies that you're dealing with, so it isn't scary at all. It's a teamwork game this time, and what surprises you the most is just how good your teamwork turns out to be.

"To your left, in the corner."

"Phew, got him. Thanks," you reply, promptly shooting the character before he could shoot you. "Watch out—right above you."

"Got it."

It lasts a few rounds but you manage to make it to the end and finally clear the game.

Jaehyun's whole face is lit up when he turns to you. "Wow, that was awesome. Great teamwork."

He holds up both his hands for you to high-five, and just as your hands meet his, you can't help but notice the way they linger together a little longer.  

Time flies as the two of you go from game to game and you're trying your best to beat him at any game possible. While he does let you win some of the time, more often than not, he ends up winning. Though it's not like you could be upset about it at all when he looked so happy after each win, excitedly showing you his score or prize. It was definitely nice to be as carefree as kids again.

Yet there was something deeper with the adrenaline coursing through your veins and heart racing that it becomes hard to tell whether it may be from the excitement of the games, the warmth of his body right beside you as he patiently teaches you his strategies for winning, the bright smiles that seem to light up his whole face, or those damn dimples.

Why did this Valentine's boy have to be not only heartbreakingly handsome but also incredibly kind and considerate?

"Hey, you want to try one of those?" The sound of Jaehyun's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you silently pray that you hadn't been staring at him subconsciously. And if you had been staring, hopefully he didn't notice as he's pointing to the line of game stands at the side where the games are always rigged and you can never win big prizes.

"I've never won anything from there before, so I sure hope you're good at those."

He ends up picking a dart game out of all the options, but maybe this one would be easier than the rest.

The man at the dart stand greets you and explains the rules. "Are you trying to win something for your girlfriend?"

"Oh, we're not—" you start but stop as soon as you hear what Jaehyun says instead.

"It's Valentine's Day after all," he says easily then follows with a wink at you.

He didn't deny...?

It's three shots dead center to win one of the biggest prizes or five within the smallest ring. It makes your heart pound a little faster seeing Jaehyun so focused with his nice stance, sleeves rolled up slightly, and intense eyes on the target. However, he misses on the first shot with his dart going off the board.

"Well that's no fun," the man says, frowning at where the dart landed. "I suppose I could give you another chance, since it's Valentine's Day and all. Wouldn't want to end up empty handed, right?" He laughs to himself but puts the dart back in Jaehyun's hand.

"Thank you," he says, flustered judging by the hint of a blush that sweeps his cheeks. "I'm not usually this bad."

"It's okay! You're doing great, sweetie," you joke.

He rolls his eyes at you despite the way his lips curl up at the corners, then gets ready to throw the dart again. And this time? You're sure your jaw is to the floor when he manages to get all three darts to hit the board dead center. The man congratulates him for winning and then they disappear into the back room to pick a prize. Jaehyun later comes out holding the biggest dog plushie you've ever seen.

Once you're back outside after the arcade adventure, that's when he stops and turns to you.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like but I hope this is okay," he says quietly, gingerly handing you the giant plushie.

"It's great, Jaehyun." You meet his gaze as you take the plushie and he quickly looks away. "Thank you."

"You know, I'm really glad we ended up doing this. It's even better than what I had planned originally." Then he adds more quietly, "One of the best birthdays I've had in a while."  

"Yeah," you smile. "Me too."

It's only then when you realize that Yoojin and the rest of your plans had totally slipped your mind.

***

It's chilly outside as the two of you walk around town. Valentine's Day decorations were everywhere, with the chalkboard menus of local restaurants featuring couple meal sets with tons of hearts drawn around them, various pink and red plushies lined up on the windowsills of nearby shops, and even lamp posts on the streets covered with mini heart shaped lights. The sight of those things usually would've made you roll your eyes and pretend to puke, but somehow it doesn't seem to bother you quite so much today. It's as if you're seeing everything through a new perspective—one that might find the rosy decorations pretty and one that might understand the hype of such a holiday.

"Y/N," Jaehyun suddenly says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. Before you could even react, he's quickly switching positions with you so that you're sheltered between him and the wall of the nearby building.

Then he's turning to you. Hand on the wall behind your head, body leaning towards you.

So close that you could see the individual eyelashes framing his eyes.

But in the next instant he's looking behind him where a car drives by and splashes up a large amount of water from the melting snow on the side of the street. Which lands right where you were standing just a moment ago.

Jaehyun turns back to you, eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Um, are you?"

"That's good." He glances behind him and then reassures you with a quick smile. "And yeah, all good."

"It was a close call. Thanks for saving me."

"Wouldn't want your clothes to be ruined by that." He laughs. "How are you doing though? It's pretty cold out here."

"I'm okay," you automatically reply.

That earns you a skeptical look. "Your cheeks are all red. Come on, let's go warm up somewhere."

When you resume walking, he's taking the outer edge of the sidewalk.

A couple of blocks later is when you find out that the place he had in mind turns out to be the local coffee shop. You'd never been there before but had always thought of it as a cute place when you pass by it, so when you enter, the interior definitely matches up to your expectations. It has a rustic theme with warm glow from fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and there's soft music playing in the background, a nice place to study if it's as empty as today.

Jaehyun buys you your drink. Kind of.

"I bought one, but they gave me one for free," he says, beaming when he comes back to the table with the drinks—a coffee for him and a latte with a cute little heart floating in it for you. "Maybe the barista was charmed by my smile."

"Hmm." You look behind him to see a sign at the front of the store saying, 'Buy one get one free—Valentine's Day special'. "Are you sure it wasn't because of my charming smile?"

"You're right, that could be it. You are quite cute."

"Exactly."

Wait, what did he just say?

You do a double take but he's merely staring back at you with dimples just barely visible and eyes sparkling through thick eyelashes that you could only wish yours looked like.

Suddenly it feels like the heater's on extra high in this cafe or maybe it was the way the latte burns your tongue as you take a big gulp. Whatever it was, it definitely succeeds in warming you up a little too well, especially your face.

"You okay? Don't burn yourself," he says, the amusement in his eyes betraying the concern in his voice.

You nearly spit your drink out at him. "Nah, no burn. I'm good, thanks," you say dryly.

Time seems to slow down as you relax in your seat, body finally warming up in the coziness of the cafe. The small corner you're in almost feels like a liminal space; such a transient place you'd only ever noticed while passing by, yet a whole different world on the inside where one can hide forever. Perhaps you wanted to hide here, to enjoy the fleeting moments of a strange but amazing birthday.

Conversation ebbs and flows though you're a little surprised when Jaehyun opens up about his life. His passion for music, especially, is what picks up traction as he happens to know your favourite group, NCT. From there it becomes a debate of whether Doyoung or Taeyong was the best looking member (you insist that Doyoung's Instagram was all the proof one needed, whereas he points out that Taeyong's sharp jawline could totally cut that VVS diamonds they keep singing about). You definitely don't tell Jaehyun the fact that maybe—just maybe—he's even more attractive than your NCT biases and that he could totally be an actor from a Korean drama.

Everything you hear about him makes you appreciate his vulnerability, yet you can't help but wonder if he's so open with just anybody. You were a complete stranger, after all.

Yet every time you see the twinkle in his eyes when your gaze accidentally meets his, part of you wonders if 'strangers' no longer fits the definition of where this strange relationship was going. It leaves you with wanting to avoid looking at him which is quite difficult with him seated directly across from you. Maybe you should've sat where your plushie was, taking up its own chair between the two of you, but it's too late and now you're left to deal with the audible thud of your heart every time you make eye contact with him.

And yet when you think about it, you realize that it wasn't Jaehyun's cute dimples or his deep voice or his lame jokes that had your nerves acting up.

It was probably the caffeine.

But maybe it was the small things that you hadn't even realized you'd noticed. Earlier at the arcade when he patiently taught you the games that you were unfamiliar with, letting you win games but also winning at them himself just so he could give you the prize. Saving you from a car first then from the cold with the warmth of the cafe. Opening the door for you, sitting closer to the door to block the cold wind from reaching you.

And how despite the number of reschedules and plan cancellations you both had to make due to the train delay, he hasn't pulled his phone out a single time. You admired how in the midst of all the chaos today, he was still nothing but calm and polite the entire time and seemed to have everything under control. He was a comforting presence that made you forget about the madness of the outside world for a little while.

Nah, it had to be the caffeine.

Still, you find yourself glad to be stuck here with him, even as far as dreading when you both had to leave. You're definitely appreciating Yoojin's ability to be late right about now.

A lull in the conversation has you sneaking a glance at your phone to check up on your best friend. There's no text from her as she's either still doing her extravagant makeup or still on her way here, but for some reason you let out the breath you held in relief.

"I wonder if the trains are running now." A glance out the window shows you the remnants of sunset and the quickly darkening skies. Then you cautiously throw out the question that you'd been holding onto for a while. Something that you'd been reluctant to bring up, carefully stepping around it the whole day, and something that he hasn't talked about either. "Oh right, didn't you say you would end up taking a bus? If the delay is still going on."

Maybe it's a test to see his reaction, maybe it's to end this vague relationship before you become even more attached than you already are. Because any rational person wouldn't just throw away all their birthday plans for someone they'd just met.

"Oh. Right." Jaehyun looks down and swirls the stir stick in his drink. Clockwise, counter-clockwise, back and forth. "I, uh, actually forgot that I didn't drive here today." He shoots you a sheepish grin then runs his fingers through his hair that has deflated quite a bit since you first saw him. "So can't exactly drive over to the bus stop."

You smile back weakly. "Ah, that's okay. There's probably a ton of traffic out there now anyways."

An ambiguous answer for an equally ambiguous relationship. It could definitely be a real excuse, yet somehow the thought of that makes you almost disappointed. Maybe there are no answers to the questions and uncertainties muddled in your mind.

"But did you want to get rid of me so fast?" He actually pouts at you, as if his regular face weren't already enough to break hearts.

"What? No, of course not? I—what?" you manage to get out.

"Okay, good!" The pout immediately goes back into his regular smile. "Phew. It's sad enough being single on Valentine's Day; no need to get rejected on top of that."

Then his phone buzzes and it finally pulls it out.

"As if anyone would reject you," you mutter under your breath while he's distracted.

It's true. You might've expected Jaehyun's appearance to be making up for other areas, or maybe even hoping he'd be too rude or too blunt or have a bad character. Because the cognitive dissonance in your head wants a reason or excuse to remain distant and emotionally detached from him. But the kindness and authenticity that you saw today just leaves you without a reason, which makes it that much harder to stop yourself from liking him.

"Sorry about that; what did you say?"

"Nothing!" You plaster on a cheerful smile.

"Okay, my cousin is going to be here soon."

"Oh."

Then there's the sinking of your heart, the inevitable dread that this unexpectedly enjoyable afternoon is coming to an end. Somehow it manages to crush the anticipation you had for your birthday celebration with Yoojin.

"You know, I kind of feel bad that you paid for everything today," you say. "Let me pay you back?"

"It's fine, Y/N. We had fun and that's all that matters."

"True, but you should've at least let me buy the drinks!"

That manages to make him smile but it quickly dies as he bites his lip, suddenly hesitant. "If you really want to..."

"Yes!"

"...you could just pay next time."

What.

"Next time?" you repeat, afraid to believe what you were hearing.

"I mean, if you—maybe—want to hang out again sometime?"

You open your mouth to say something, or maybe it was already open in your state of shock. Nothing comes out as if you lost your voice.

Jaehyun briefly meets your eyes before continuing. "Well, um—I just wanted to say that I had a really good time with you today. I know the train thing was probably an inconvenience to everyone else but to be honest, I'm kind of glad that happened." He laughs a little. Stops. Bites his lip. "And yeah, if you're down, we could hang out again sometime. Because I'd love to get to know you better."

Thud.

You could only stare back at him as the roaring of your pulse becomes all you can hear. The whole day you were telling yourself that it shouldn't be possible to develop feelings for someone within a day, almost trying to hold yourself back from enjoying your time with him to the fullest in the fear that you might be wrong. And it's not like you developed crushes very easily, but here in front of you was a boy so friendly and good-natured even to a stranger he'd just met, someone who really seemed to care about you.

"Jaehyun..."

He continues, "I know it's weird meeting like this, and I don't really believe in this whole fate thing where we just happened to be stuck here and we happen to have the same birthday. All I can say is that I really enjoyed talking to you and hearing your thoughts and um, youknowyou'rereallybeautiful."

The logical inner voice had been screaming stranger danger the entire time because you didn't know him at all! You'd just met him today! Yet the small fic writer voice in your head, which definitely sounded a lot like your best friend's voice, was trying to convince you that maybe fate does exist. That if it doesn't, how likely was it that you met someone with the same birthday which happened to be Valentine's Day? That you met at exactly the right time and that the train the two of you were going to take was delayed? That you managed to have one of the best birthdays that you could recall?

Maybe sometimes you need to let go of any fears and just live life to its fullest. Let yourself feel a wide range of emotions without being afraid of getting heartbroken. Stop holding back and just be true to yourself.

It suddenly feels too hot in the cafe once again.

"Yeah," your voice comes out quiet, unsteady, but his words give you the courage to reach over to hesitantly take his hand. "Today has been amazing and I'm so thankful that you're the one I was stuck with."

His eyes flicker to yours then away. "But...?"

"There is no 'but'. Jaehyun, I'd love to see you again."

"Yeah?" He lets out a long exhale before his face visibly brightens again. "That's a relief. I didn't think you would agree, but I didn't want to have you walk out of my life just like that."

Then there isn't a need for any more words as shy smiles are exchanged and fleeting gazes meet and there's a warmth bubbling in your chest. It's as if you spent the whole day worrying over nothing. That somehow, everything worked out. That maybe it was fate, and maybe it wasn't, but the connection you thought you felt wasn't just one-sided. It was something real, something tangible.

"Jeong Jaehyun!"

The booming voice jolts the two of you out of the moment and makes you immediately spring apart.

"Did you seriously make me take the train all the way here just for you? Who is this girl because she better be real nice for you to ditch me—" The loud voice from the woman walking into the cafe stops right when her eyes land on you. She smiles sheepishly, dipping her head lightly as if apologizing for her outburst. "Never mind; forget I said anything. I approve."

"Nice to see you too, Minah," Jaehyun greets as you both stand. You can see how his face is still flushed from earlier, but now he's put on a neutral expression again and what you'd seen just a moment ago has been erased. "Don't worry, I won't make you take the train back. I'll drive you home after."

"Oh, you have the car. Bless." Minah brushes her hair back, tidying it from the effects of the wind. Then she stops suddenly and narrows her eyes at him. "Wait, why didn't you just drive over if the trains stopped working?"

"You—have the car? I thought you said you got a ride," you muse out loud.

"Oh, uh. Actually I forgot I had it since I usually get a ride here and it would've taken too long to drive there in rush hour anyway... so... yeah..." He trails off and shifts his weight from one foot to another, and it's even more evident how flushed his face is, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

You hear a snort and see Minah practically shaking with quiet laughter.

"Y/N!" The bell at the door rings again as Yoojin steps into the cafe, bringing a rush of cold air in with her. "There you are! And oh—" she stops mid-sentence when she spots you with Jaehyun, his cousin, and the massive plushie sitting in its own chair. "Minah?"

"Yoojin?"

"You guys know each other?" you ask tentatively.

"We were friends in high school!" Yoojin replies. Then gives you a questioning look. "Minah, it's been so long. We should totally catch up."

Minah nods enthusiastically, jumping up to give Yoojin a warm hug. "Totally!" Then she briefly glances at Jaehyun. "Well, I was supposed to have dinner with my little cousin over here but if you and your friend are free, then we could all go somewhere together?"

"How about we head over to that cute little diner that was our hangout spot for the longest time?" Yoojin suggests with a glance over at you and Jaehyun.

Minah squeals. "Let's do it; it'd be just like old times!"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I wanted to borrow Y/N for a bit," Jaehyun says. "We'll let you guys catch up in peace without a third and four wheel."

"Yoojin, we can always hang out another time if you want to go with Minah."

Your best friend looks at you suspiciously with her eyes narrowed. "Hmm, yeah that works. I'll call you later and you better give me all the details though."

"Okay, deal."

And with that, they both head for the door. Yoojin turns to give you one last wink before they're gone.  

"I guess it's just us." Jaehyun's eyes are sparkling when they meet yours and he gives a gentle smile before shyly holding you hand. "We're probably too late for my reservation, but there are some good food places not too far from here."

"So..."

"Have dinner with me?"

"Hmm, I thought you didn't have your car here."

He looks pained. "Y/N!"

"I'm just kidding! I'm actually starving so let's go."

***

It's hours of delicious food, good conversation, and shy glances later that he finally drops you off at home. When your phone buzzes this time, it's not from Yoojin—it's a text from an unknown number followed by an image attachment.

"I have a feeling this is very false for you :)" it reads. And your heart skips a beat when you see the image.

It's the "no one likes you when you're 23" meme.

On the day of your 23rd birthday, you definitely weren't expecting anyone to like you, just as you haven't for the past 22 years. But with the words in Jaehyun's text that you read and reread, the light fragrance of the rose now in your vase and the giant plushie on your bed, and your mind replaying his bright smile and dimples and the sparkle in his eyes, it seemed like today was different.

Maybe today, someone just might like you when you're 23.

#jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jeong jaehyun #nct fic #nct x reader #nct x you #valentines day fic #jaehyun fluff #loosely based on real life events #not that i met jaehyun but he did come to my city #ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY JAE BAEEEE #happyjaehyunday #Extra RushedTM #how many times did i rewrite this in the past day hmm #nearly pulled two allnighters wow #ok yolo if no one reads this it's 7k of me figuring out #how to write dialogue tags hAHAHA #my fic

[writtenjewels]

Switch part 3

Part One, Part Two

Dorian took the poultice the healers recommended for his headache, but he chose not to mention losing his magic. He had a suspicion the spell he cast was involved. He headed back up to the library to read over the wording again. It seemed very vague to him. What is mine, is yours. Move through this open space to share and understand the heart. What the hell did that mean and why did it result in him losing his magic?! He read on but there were no other clues in the text or any way to break the spell once it had been cast. Did that mean he was powerless forever?

“Dorian!” Solas called up. “Cassandra is looking for you!”

“What for?” he shouted back.

“I'm uncertain, but she seemed agitated.” Wonderful, just what he needed. Dorian closed the book with a sigh and headed back downstairs to the courtyard. He was outside for perhaps a minute when Cassandra pounced on him.

“There you are, you wretch. Just what do you think you're doing?!”

“Solas said you wanted to see me,” Dorian explained, a bit taken aback by her aggression. The two of them weren't exactly friends but he had hoped all this time together at least put them on a level of amiable acquaintanceship.

“When you joined the Inquisition, it was with the understanding that you wouldn't be going around performing magic whenever the mood struck you.” Dorian just stared at her. How in the world could she have known about the spell he cast earlier that day? And why would she be angry about it? He was the one who lost his powers! “Send your undead things away right this instant!” Cassandra demanded.

“My... what?”

“Don't play innocent! They've been seen crawling along the ramparts!”

“I really don't know what you're talking about,” Dorian insisted. He was starting to get a little irritated with her. “And I don't care for the insinuation that I go around raising the dead willy-nilly.”

“You're the only mage here who studied Mortalitasi. If you didn't call them, who did?”

“How the hell should I know?” Dorian snapped. The flare of temper startled Cassandra, and Dorian a little as well. He took a breath to calm himself. “I'll go see what the trouble is.” Not that he could do much without magic, but at least he could see what she was talking about.

When he got up to the ramparts Dorian saw that there were in fact several bound spirits roaming around. They seemed aimless, roaming back and forth and toppling over the side only to make their way back up again. Whoever bound them gave the spirits no direction but had shown enough control so the creatures weren't running wild. It was curious-- it was almost like the spell had been cast as an emotional response rather than a focused will. As he pondered this he noted how the spirits seemed to be gravitating toward Cullen's office. He doubted that was being received well by the former Templar.

“Be at peace,” Dorian commanded. He had no magic to banish them but he hoped his authoritative tone would do something. Predictably, he was ignored. So it would have to be severing the spirit's connection to the body by brute force. He moved toward Cullen's door to ask for his help but found the door barred by magic. Now that was very strange.

“Cullen?” he called out. “Are you all right in there?”

“Dorian?” Cullen answered. Dorian heard movement on the other side of the door. “Thank the Maker. Help me, please!”

“What's happening? There's a magical barrier on your door.”

“Yes, I know, I'm aware of that. It's to keep those bound spirits from getting in. They won't leave me alone!” One of them approached the door as if to prove the commander's point. It was stopped by the barrier and fell over the side of the castle. Falling to the ground didn't bother it and moments later it was back on its feet making its way back up.

“I just want you to know I had nothing to do with this,” Dorian assured him.

“I know. I did.”

“Ah... sorry, I must have misheard you,” Dorian frowned. “What do you mean, you did?” There was a moment of silence and the door opened. The barrier shimmered in the open space. Cullen's face was even more pale than usual and the fur mantle he usually wore was blackened and smelled burnt.

“I mean I summoned them somehow.” Dorian's frown deepened. Cullen lifted a hand and the magical barrier dropped; Dorian's jaw dropped a moment later. “You see?”

“How... but... did you just use magic?!” Dorian sputtered.

“Yes. Now get in quickly so I can put the barrier back up.” Dorian saved his questions and obediently stepped over the threshold. Cullen lifted his hand again and the barrier resumed its place. He shut the door for good measure. “That one I've mastered, at least,” Cullen huffed. “But I've no idea how I even brought those creatures here, let alone how to get rid of them.”

“Nevermind all that!” Dorian exclaimed. “You just used magic! How is that possible?!”

“I haven't the slightest idea. One moment I was going over some things and thinking to spend some time in the training yard, the next I'm casting healing spells and creating fireballs.” If it were anyone else, Dorian would find some delight in the irony of a Templar becoming a mage, but this was Cullen and he actually liked the man.

“Right. We'll worry about how that happened later. First we need to release those poor souls out there.” He coached Cullen through the releasing spell. Seeing the pulse of energy from the outside was a very surreal experience. Dorian opened the door just to make sure. “They're gone,” he reported. “Well done.”

“I'm glad you showed up,” Cullen sighed. “You like researching; you can help figure out how this happened.”

“I may know,” Dorian admitted. The pieces were coming together in his mind. “You see, I cast a spell earlier today. So I think I somehow gave you my magic. Unintentionally.”

#dorian pavus #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition

[etoileholland]

don’t leave me waiting here

Anonymous asked: The reader is trying to comfort peter after he failed a mission. peter’s injuries and headache cause him to lash out at the reader. 🥺

Pairing: Peter Parker and reader

Warnings: angst but fluff at the end, mentions of injuries but no details of how it looks I promise

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, but some of the ‘medical statements’ I wrote in here are just what I’ve learned from personal experience from growing up in hospital/doctors settings. 

Word count: 3.9k (wow look who finally got inspired to actually write something longer than 2k)

A/N: I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted but my life has been pretty hectic recently, and as a result I lost motivation to write. Requests are open so please send something in! (Preferably for Peter Parker right now because I feel like I have a lot of motivation to write for him. If you’ve sent in a Tom request I’ll probably get around to it, but idk when so sorry in advance) 

Peter had trudged back home, but stopped in his tracks right as he made his way to his apartment door. He knew that if he went home looking tattered and as disheveled as he did, May would be concerned, and when she’s concerned it makes him concerned. He didn’t want to talk about how he had his ass beat by a few bad guys, and because of this, Tony put him on probation until “he can get his shit together and prove himself to be worthy.” His words, not mine. 

Knowing full well that he didn’t want to talk about it, he turned on his heels to make his way to your residence. You lived only a few blocks away from him, and it seemed that he was at your place more than his own. Walking slowly, it took him longer than usual to reach your apartment complex, but the solemn walk was almost comforting.

Shoulders slumped, he rang the bell to your apartment and waited for you to buzz him into the door. He waited a few seconds before impatiently ringing the bell again and again until you finally answered after the sixth time.

“Damn, who is it? What in the world do you want?” You were clearly annoyed, and the person on the other end of the intercom remained silent. 

Peter didn’t realise that it hurt him to speak, but it would make sense due to the fact that one of the bad guys punched him square in the throat. He opened his mouth but nothing but a squeak came out. 

“If this is a sick joke, or a prank, I suggest you leave immediately before I call the cops.”

“It’s not,” he whispered up to the speaker, “a joke.” He took a sharp inhale in before saying, “‘S Peter.”

“Peter?” You asked, “Why are you whispering?”

He didn’t have the strength to reply, that alone hurt too much to say. 

When he didn’t respond, you ran over to the living room window that overlooked the city street, one that also overlooked the front gate. You could recognise Peter anywhere, but his demeanour seemed, well, different. You skipped back over to the speaker and pushed the button for him to be able to enter the building. Usually he ran up the stairs and would be at your door in an instant, but today it took him about three minutes to trudge up the stairs while he practically dragged himself to your door.

You opened the door before he could knock, gasping at the sight of him. He had a black eye, a few cuts on his face, and his clothes looked as though they were put through a shredder; cuts and scrapes visible underneath the tattered clothes. He didn’t even tilt his head up to meet your gaze, all he did was take a step forward into your outstretched arms. You led him into your apartment and locked the door.

“Pete?” You whispered, “are you okay?” 

He shook his head no and let out a small sob. “Do I look okay?” He quietly asked.

“No, come here angel.” You held onto him tighter and put your hand on the back of his neck and stroked the little curls on the nape of his neck. He sobbed again and held you tighter, not wanting to let go. 

“Would you wanna talk about it?” You asked but he shook his head no again. 

“It hurts to talk, was punched in throat. And head.” He whispered back and let go from your embrace. He walked over to your couch to lay down on it, already knowing what was going to come next. You went into the bathroom and grabbed some gauze, medical tape, hydrogen peroxide and some Neosporin. Supplies in hand, you walked back over to Peter who had his eyes closed with his head tilted slightly back. 

“Is your throat okay?” You set the supplies down on the coffee table and shook your head. “What kind of question is that, of course it’s not okay. I should take you to the hospital asap.” 

“Don’t.” He croaked out, “Don’t you dare.” 

“Fine.” You didn’t want to start an argument, but if you saw anything more unusual than the usual bruises and cuts, then a trip to the ER would be necessary. First, you assessed to see if his pupils dilated under a flashlight, which would indicate a sign of a concussion, but surprisingly it seemed he didn’t have one. 

“My head hurts.” He added, his voice sounding more normal than before.

“Where, specifically?” 

With a wince and a groan, he lifted his arm to point to where there was a large bump on his forehead. When it comes to head injuries, like a bump on the head, it’s better to see the damage externally, which usually signified that the head was alright internally. 

“Let me get you some ice.” You got up and swiftly walked over to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas. A few seconds later you were back by Peter’s side, holding the bag of ice to his head.

About twenty minutes and a lot of gauze later, Peter was finally patched up like new. His voice came back and although he said it still hurt, at least he was able to talk again. 

“Now would you want to tell me what happened? Also from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like you were wearing your suit, why not?” 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Y/N. Now drop it.”

“Peter, if you didn’t want me to know about it then you would’ve just gone back home and-”

“I only came because I knew you would be the only one who would fix me up, okay? I didn’t come to be interrogated, and I sure as hell didn’t come here to feel ridiculed, do you understand?” He seethed, eyes glaring at you. 

“Well maybe if you would at least tell me what happened I-”

“I don’t want to talk! I don’t care what happened, and now I’m regretting showing up here.” Peter attempted to sit up but groaned and fell back onto the couch in his original position. “I wish I hadn’t come round.”

You let his words hang in the air for a minute until you decided to speak. “I didn’t know you only saw me as a medic, and not your friend. At least I now know how you really see me.” You exhaled audibly and stood up. “And when you’re able, please leave and never come back.” You left Peter alone and walked into your bedroom door, slamming it shut.

He covered his eyes with his hands, wincing at the pain and letting out a sigh. He didn’t see you only as his medic, or even just his best friend. No, he saw you more than that. He was in love with you, which was why he always would come around to be fixed when he needed it. He loved how you treated him with care and made him feel safe when all he felt was scared and afraid. You always took away the pain, and he loved how close you would be to him, how your touch always felt so nice and loving. 

When you said that you wanted him to leave and never come back, he knew that you had finally washed your hands of the situation. You were never one to walk away from people, but once you finally had enough, there was almost no convincing you otherwise. He was hit with the revelation that maybe, just maybe, you’ll really never wanna see him again. A thought so depressing that all he could do was cry. 

He felt the tears stream down his cheeks and felt them roll off his face and onto the pillow that his head was resting on. He gasped for air but winced when it felt like he couldn’t breathe, probably due to him being kicked in the side. More tears rolled down his cheeks until he felt like he may just drown in them. He eventually cried himself to sleep, hoping that sleeping would somehow make the situation better.

—

Peter awoke a few hours later, a conclusion he came to because when he fell asleep, it was dusk, and now the curtains were drawn in the living room and a lamp in the far corner illuminated the room. He carefully sat up and noticed that his head seemed to feel a bit better, even though he didn’t remember you giving him any medicine for it. He stood up and steadied himself against the edge of the couch while slowly walked towards the bathroom. Your room was a door down from the bathroom, and he saw that it was still closed. He couldn’t hear any little sounds coming from your room indicating you were inside, and he wondered if you decided to go as far as leave him by himself in your apartment. Your parents were away for the weekend anyway, so it wouldn’t really matter if you were gone too for the night until he went home.

After freshening up in the bathroom, he decided to knock on your door and see if you were even home. There was no reply from the other side of the door, but Peter decided to see if the door was unlocked. Surprisingly it was, to which he quietly opened the door and stepped into your room. You were laying in your bed with your laptop on your lap, earbuds placed in your ears. When your gaze met his, you averted your gaze back to your laptop.

“Y/N, can we please talk?” He asked, voice hushed as if to not anger you further. He awaited your response, but you ignored his question. “Please?”

“Oh, so now you want to talk.” You remarked and slammed your laptop shut. “That’s funny, when I wanted to talk to you, you shut me down and ridiculed me and made me feel inferior, but now that you want to talk, I’m just supposed to be okay with that.” You huffed out an angry laugh.  

“I-”

“Listen to what I’m going to say, hmm? I don’t care about what happened to you earlier today, and I won’t care about what happens after this. I just need you to leave me alone and I meant it when I said it.” You got up and took a step closer to Peter. “Now you know what it feels like when you want to speak to someone but they just keep shutting you down.” 

Peter stood there speechless for this was a side of you that he had never seen before. One that was cold, vindictive.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” You questioned, but Peter felt like he was frozen. “Well, aren’t you?” Your voice quivered, and a tear escaped your eye. He physically couldn’t move, and when he tried to open his mouth, no words came out. He was in shock, all he could do was stand there while watching the situation unfold.

Defeated, you took a step back and crawled back into your bed. Opening your laptop, you placed your earbuds back in, ignoring Peter as if he didn’t exist. 

Peter took a step back until he was standing in the hallway. He wiped away a tear that he didn’t know had escaped his eye, and walked out of your apartment. 

—

A week had passed since the incident with Peter, and he was nowhere to be found. Rumours circulated that he moved schools, or that he dropped out of school entirely. The curiosity coursed through your veins, and you had to know if he was okay. You shuddered at the words that replayed in your head, when you told Peter that you no longer cared about him. It was definitely untrue, and the worry was consuming you whole. 

At lunch, you saw MJ and Ned sitting together. They both looked exhausted and the looks on their faces proved that the worry was eating them alive too. Peter never missed school--he’s had perfect attendance since kindergarten, so for him to miss a whole week was a big deal.

Hesitantly, you placed your hands in your, well, Peter’s sweatshirt pocket and walked over to where MJ and Ned were sitting. They shot you a disapproving gaze, which made you wonder if Peter told them what happened between you two. 

“Hey,” You said while looking at them both. MJ downright ignored you, but at least Ned acknowledged your presence. 

“Hey.” He replied curtly.

MJ looked past you, and so to not waste anyone’s time, you decided to get to the point.

“So, um, is Peter alright? I noticed that he wasn’t in school and-”

“So you care now?” MJ asked, voice laced with a bit of hostility and sadness.

“I’ve always cared, I-”

“Well that’s not what Peter said.” Ned chimed in. “We went round his place yesterday, and I don’t know what you said to him but he’s beyond devastated. He knows he screwed up with you, and he’s sorry about that.”

“There’s probably a lot you don’t know, and-”

“That’s for sure.” MJ stated.

“God, will one of you at least let me finish a sentence? I swear, you and Peter both won’t let me get a word in.”

“Fine.” Ned replied.

“Good. I was going to say that there’s a lot to this situation, and without going into too many details, he said he only sees me as a medic and not even a friend.”

“Oh.” They said in unison.

“Yeah. So I think I had every reason to get mad at him when he didn’t tell me what was going on.”

“I think so.” Ned responded, and MJ looked at you sympathetically. 

“You know, there’s also a lot you don’t know either Y/N.” MJ hinted and when she saw the confused look on your face, she continued. “Peter hasn’t always been honest with you, which is why he’s beating himself up now and staying home from school. He can’t stand to see you hate him, which is why he isn’t here.” She stood up from her seat and Ned followed suit. “Now if you'll excuse us, we have an acadeca practice to go to.”

And with that, they left you standing in the middle of the cafeteria absolutely dumbfounded.

—

Another painstakingly slow week had passed and you were studying in your room, preparing for midterms. You could hardly focus in school anymore, and as a result your grades had been slipping. Luckily your parents were gone again at another business conference, and they wouldn’t be home for a few weeks, which gave you plenty of time to sort your grades out before they came home. 

You were so concentrated on studying US history that you nearly failed to hear the ring from the intercom. It took about six rings until it had registered that someone was at the front door, so you scrambled to answer it.

“I’m sorry, I was busy and I didn’t hear the bell ring. May I ask who’s there?” You asked in your ‘receptionist’ voice, hoping that whoever rang was still there. You were met with silence so you looked out the living room window to see if the person was still down there. 

You looked down and saw a man standing there, head tilted down looking at the pavement, holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand. You didn’t recognize who he was but you didn’t get the feeling that he was dangerous, so you opened the window and called out to him. 

“Did you need something sir?” You inquired and nearly fell out the window when you saw that it was Peter looking up at you. He looked so different than what you were used to; his hair was long and he wore baggy sweats and a black hoodie. 

“Y/N, please just give me a minute to explain and I promise I’ll leave you alone after this.” He hollered to you, to which you closed your window and locked it. 

Peter sighed and was about to head home when he heard that the front gate was unlocked. He ran to open the door and sprinted up the stairs to your apartment. 

He was about to knock on the door when you opened it before he could knock. “You have precisely one minute.” You held open the door for him to come inside. 

Peter cleared his throat and said, “these are for you. I remembered that you once mentioned that the prettiest flowers you had ever seen in New York were from a corner florist in Manhattan, so I went there and got you these myself.” He held them out to you, which you graciously took from him. They really were the most beautiful flowers you had ever seen, and the nice gesture made what little anger you had left towards him dissipate completely. 

“Can I sit down?” He motioned to the couch, to which you nodded your head yes. You sat in the armchair across from the couch and Peter took a second to compose himself. He had a whole speech planned out on what he would say, but once he saw you he forgot everything. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I know it won’t cut it now and I had a whole speech memorised but now I’m flustered and I can’t remember it. I didn’t mean anything that I said that day. You mean so much to me and I was just in a bad mood because I found out that Mr. Stark was fighting some bad guys and I was in the area so I went to help him. I didn’t have my suit but I figured I’d be okay, but I had my ass beat by them and Mr. Stark saved me from them, but he was also injured in the process. He’s fine, by the way, but it would’ve been better if I didn’t intervene. The bad guys got away and he was so mad at me that he put me on probation until I can get my act together.” 

He caught his breath and looked at you to make sure you were still listening. You signaled for him to continue so he did. “He told me I was reckless and that I should’ve minded my own business. So I came to you all broken and injured, not because I see you as a medic, but because you make me feel better. I love that you can fix me up and make me feel safe and loved, and I’m sorry I said I only see you as someone who can repair me, because that’s not true.” 

“Is that all?” You asked, but Peter shook his head no. 

“There’s more. Ned and MJ told me that you spoke to them at lunch one day, and they said you were concerned. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was okay, I just figured that what you said was true, that you really don’t care about me anymore. That day when we fought and you told me you never wanted to see me again, it broke my heart because I’ve never seen you that cold and calculating before. So I know that I messed up royally, which is why I avoided you and ultimately ditched school for a week. I didn’t want to see you that way and so I did what I thought was best, which was to leave you alone. But they said I should come talk to you since you didn’t seem mad anymore, so here I am. I wish I could go back in time to that day and tell you that you mean so much to me, and I’m sorry I made you feel inferior. You don’t have to forgive me, but I just thought you should know all of that.”

He stood up from the couch, pausing before saying, “I promised that if you listened to me, I would leave you alone. So thank you for your time, and I’ll get going now.” He tried to walk past you but you put your hand on his chest to stop him. 

“I need to say something too Peter. I shouldn’t have tried to force you to tell me what happened. It wasn’t right of me to pry and I’m also sorry that I said I didn’t care about you, because that’s so far from the truth. I care about you so much and it’s always so hard to see you hurt. This time the wounds seemed worse than usual, which would make sense because you didn’t have your suit to protect you. I was just really worried about you, that’s all.” You admitted.

“You don’t have to be sorry, it really was all my fault. I shouldn’t have snapped at you because I know you care about me, but I promise that if anything happens next time I’ll tell you and be honest and upfront.” 

“Well, I hope you won’t get injured again.” You placed your hand on his chest and he put his hand on top of yours. 

“Sadly I will, it’s a part of the job. But I promise I’ll try to be safer.”

“Good, because I don’t want to lose you.” You pulled your hand away but Peter held onto it. 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” Peter now let go of your hand, as he took a step towards your door. 

“Wait Peter, can I ask you something? 

“Of course.” 

“MJ said that you haven’t always been completely honest with me, what did she mean by that?” 

Peter’s face turned red, his cheeks burning up.“Oh, well, I guess now’s a good time to say it, I suppose. I don’t see you only as a f-friend.” He stammered. 

“How do you see me then, Peter?” You asked, and his face became redder. 

“More than a friend, Y/N. I’m in love with you, which is why I always come around because you make me feel safe and loved.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“I always have been, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything soon-.” 

You cut him off by crashing your lips on his, and at first he was stunned, but he eventually kissed you back and deepened it. His lips glided against yours and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, reaching for and running your fingers through the curls on the back of his head. A minute later, you pulled away, but not before Peter lightly placed another kiss on your lips. “I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“‘S okay, Pete. I love you too.”  You kissed his cheek and rested your forehead against his. 

“Do you forgive me for lashing out?” He inquired, and in confirmation you kissed his lips lightly. 

“Yes, I know you didn’t really mean it.”

“I didn’t.” He grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I missed you.”

You gently squeezed his hand and held it up to your lips, giving his hand a light kiss. “I missed you too Peter.” You tried your pull away but he pulled you closer to him. “Hey, while you’re here, would you wanna watch a movie or something?”

He didn’t answer your question but instead picked you up and began walking towards your bedroom. He wrapped his arm around your waist and peppered kisses on your cheek, causing you to giggle. “I can think of something else I’d rather do.” He grinned before kissing your lips and closing your bedroom door. 

—

Additional note: can you tell I love using Beatles lyrics as titles? They’re just so good. If you have any requests for Peter please send them my way. Anyway please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist :)

mes anges (taglist): @scarletxwidow​ @sunflowerhollands​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @taciturnspidey​ @musicalkeys​ @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @quaksonhehe​ @halfblood-princess-505-deactiva​

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker and you #peter parker and y/n #peter parker and reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker one shot #peter parker one shots #peter parker angst #spiderman x y/n #spiderman #mine

[pandoraborn]

Disclaimers: Based on a headcanon that Wilbur is autistic, and a chance for me to ventfic about sensory overload, because shit’s a bitch. Slight IRL based, with computers and streaming, etc. Though based around SBI family dynamics (they’re a family your honor). No actual CC’s involved in this fic, thank you.

word count: 1014 words starring: Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit content: autistic!wilbur, sensory overload, anxiety, panic attack, detailed descriptions of sensory overload, please be safe.

-------------------

It’s not like his head is pounding with unchecked pain, it’s quite painless up there. Still, the computer screen is too bright, the humming of his computer too loud, the lights in his room even brighter than the screen, somehow-

By all rights, he feels as though his head has no business not headaching. This should be earning himself a migraine, and Wilbur wants to feel one. It would make sense, it would feel natural in this state. But the lack of any actual pain is just calling to attention the pain he’s feeling all the same.

It really doesn’t help that he’s in the middle of a stream, and Tommy’s voice is laugh-screeching in his ears, all over another stupid joke Tubbo made. Tubbo’s jokes aren’t stupid, normally Tubbo is hilarious but-

“Wilbur, you haven’t said anything for a couple of minutes, you good man?” Tommy’s character turns to face his, and Wilbur realizes he’s been frozen in place for a long time. He glances over at his chat to see it flying by. People are mocking him, people are saying he looks tired, and others are asking if he’s okay.

“I think I’m going to end stream,” he forces himself to say. “I feel awful suddenly. I’m sorry Tommy, I know-”

“It’s okay Wil. Go take care of you.” Tommy sounds...unusually calm. Does he know what Wilbur is feeling? It’s unlikely, even though he’s only a couple of rooms over.

Wilbur doesn’t respond to Tommy, but he does mute himself and switch off of Minecraft, focusing the screen on his camera. “Sorry chat, I know it’s only been a half hour, but I’m going to call it. Thanks for tuning in today, I’ll be back at some point in the future.”

With a forced smile and a wave goodbye, he ends the stream. He waits for his chat to trickle to a crawl, before ceasing all conversation as people migrate to other streamers. He realizes he didn’t even raid anyone.

He sits in his computer chair far longer than intended. Even with his computer shutting down, he can still hear the hum. The lights are still too bright, and now Wilbur just feels wrong. It’s hard to tell what the source of wrong is, but he’s rubbing at his arms and breathing way too fast. His arms feel too itchy, too tight, and he’s now realizing his skin itself is uncomfortable. He can’t take it off, he can’t... take it offtakeitofftakeitoff-

“Wilbur?”

Tommy’s voice is interrupting him, far too quiet above the roaring in his head. Wilbur jerks his head to the side, trying to get away from that pounding racket that is his brother’s voice. Is he whimpering? He doesn’t know what the noises coming out of his mouth are, only that he’s panicking, he’s spiraling, everything is too bright and too loud and too close and-

“Wilbur!” Tommy’s fingers are prying at his own, peeling them away from reddening skin. Wilbur recoils, letting out a dry sob as the very touch from his brother sends waves of pain up and down his body. Not pain, but more wrong.

“Tommy, don’t,” he chokes out. “I’m-”

“Oh.” Tommy lets go and backs up. Wilbur can see him doing this, and the distance immediately has him feeling better. It’s one less sensation that’s being thrown at him. Then, the lights are off. It’s another sensation gone, but it’s not an immediate fix. Wilbur wants to curl up on the floor and wail and cry, but he can’t move from his chair. Even the chair feels wrong. The clothes against his skin feel wrong.

“Where’s your weighted blanket?” Tommy asks. He’s whispering, his voice is far too quiet and soothing, and suddenly, instead of being a source of agony, it’s a source of comfort, and Wilbur is latching onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. He needs to focus on what’s in front of him instead of the roaring painful chaos echoing around his head.

“Dunno,” Wilbur returns. Downstairs, he can hear the sound of a dish clattering in the sink. He hunches over, gripping his arms to try and keep himself from trembling. It’s not working. It’s especially not working because Tommy is forcefully pulling him away from the chair and toward his bed. He struggles weakly, letting out a half whimper, half sob. The contact is immediately dropped when he’d pushed into his bed, with his weighted blanket being dropped on top of him. Wilbur wraps himself up tightly, taking solace in the heaviness that settles over him. Under here, nothing can hurt him. He doesn’t even feel the urge to rip himself out of his own skin.

He waits for Tommy to say something again, just so he’d have an excuse to lash out or snap, but instead, he hears a fan being turned on for white noise, followed by the sound of his bedroom door closing. He pokes his head out with a frown, but he’s alone in his room, with the lights off.

Wilbur realizes his phone is still at his desk, but that’s probably a good thing. The screen would just send him into a panic all over again, and he really just needs to relax. Burying himself again, he focuses on the sound of the fan. It’s helping, somewhat. He can still hear Tommy faintly laughing, he can still hear footsteps from downstairs, along with banging. Life in his house isn’t going to stop because he’s stupid, but at least the sounds aren’t hurting as much anymore.

Closing his eyes, he lets out a shaky sigh. He’s finally starting to relax, trembling slowing to a crawl, much like his chat had done earlier. But now, with his body no longer so tense, and things no longer so bright, he can feel the faint beginnings of a headache forming.

For some reason, that brings the biggest bit of comfort he’s felt in minutes. Tangible pain is easiest to deal with. Dealing with that makes everything else seem small in the long run, and that means he’ll be okay.

#mcyt #sbi family #sbi family fanfic #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #tommyinnit #c!tommy #tommyinnit fanfic #wilbur soot fanfic #autistic!wilbur #protective!tommyinnit #sensory overload #panic attack #detailed description of sensory overload #vent!fic #vent fic #family trope #long post #miishae writes

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part nine

This felt like it took AGES to get out but college really has had me busier than ever. Anywho, all that’s left after this part is an epilogue :( This is pretty much all fluff! Love you all xx.

After Sam, Steve, and even Bucky sign the Accords -- Colonel Rhodes signed while you were gone -- it is ratified. Which leaves the rest of you to tie up the loose ends.

For starters, where Bucky will be receiving help. For a moment you’re worried he’ll want to return to Romania, but he doesn’t even mention it. Instead, he says he’s up for suggestions.

To your complete surprise, T’Challa steps up and asks if he may offer his services.

“Wakanda is safe, no one will bother you there,” the King explains. “And we may be able to help rid your brain of the programming, not just give you ways to cope. My sister, Shuri, she will be able to help you.”

You look at Bucky, hopeful. It sounds like a good idea, but it’s ultimately up to him. Or so you thought.

Because Bucky turns his head to look at you, eyes soft, but so lost. “What do you think?”

“I think…” You pause. “I think you should do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“What would make you comfortable?” He asks. “You feel what I feel.”

You nod. “I know. I just don’t want to make any decisions for you that you won’t like.”

“I think I need your help with this one, doll,” Bucky says, gentler this time, pleading. 

“Okay, well, I think Wakanda is a good idea. Away from everyone else, you’ll really be able to heal.” You’re careful not to mention yourself, unsure as to whether or not Bucky will even want you to be with him. “And I think T’Challa’s offer is genuine.”

T’Challa nods. “I will go call my sister.” He disappears to do just that.

You stand in awkward silence, wondering what hit will come next. After the past two years, the past two hours seems too good to be true. There has to be a catch -- even if you desperately want it to be real, with no catch.

Without saying a word, Steve ushers Natasha, Sam, and Tony from the room, leaving you completely alone with your soulmate for the first time.

You never thought you’d feel this nervous.

You pull one of the chairs back from the table, sitting down to hopefully come across as relaxed as possible. You hate feeling like you need to tiptoe around Bucky, but right now, you don’t know what else to do.

He follows your movement, taking the seat directly next to you, though he keeps his distance, unsure.

One would think that if you feel what each other feels, then moments like these wouldn’t be so awkward. But they are.

“Thank you,” Bucky finally says. “For today. For everything.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur, studying your hands to keep from studying him, which you desperately want to do. “How are you doing?”

“I have one hell of a headache.”

You laugh, something about the way he said it, or maybe the fact that despite the insane nature of today’s events, something as mundane as a headache still plagues him enough to mention. A reminder that you’re both only human.

Bucky doesn’t mind the laughter. It’s a sound he remembers only vaguely from his dreams, but his dreams have nothing on this. Nothing on the way your eyes squint, the way you cover your mouth and the way he wants to reach over and grab your hand so he can see your smile, the way his mouth aches to tell you that you should never hide. The real thing is a thousand times better than his dreams. He can’t believe he almost let you get away.

“How are you?” He asks, having realized he has yet to ask you this, even after all he’s put you through.

Your eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, though you hide it well. “I’m okay.” You pause, not wanting to elaborate, not knowing if he wants to know. Is it too weird?

“Steve told me you thought he was full of it when he would tell you about me,” Bucky tries a different route, a different conversation. “I swear he wasn’t lying. Your eyes are still my favorite color, and yes, I told everyone about you. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t talk about you.”

You’ve started smiling before you can stop it. “Really?”

“You think Steve drew portraits of you because he wanted to? No, I had to talk him into it after the first few. He kept telling me, ‘Buck, what could’ve changed?’ And truth was, nothing changed. I just wanted another picture to hold.”

You cup your cheeks, soreness settling in from how hard you’ve been grinning. Just like that, your Bucky has come back to you.

The one you’ve seen in your dreams is sitting in front of you, smiling sheepishly.

“I have the drawings now,” you confess, watching Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise.

“They survived?”

“Somehow,” you nod. “Steve gave them to me when we met.” You pause. “He also gave me a letter.”

Realization dawns on Bucky’s face as he remembers the letter, the night he wrote it. It was late, he was leaving the next morning, but he had to write this letter to you. He had to write it and get it to Steve if it was the last thing he ever did. He remembers shoving it into Steve’s chest, telling him he had to get it to you somehow, it didn’t matter how, he just had to do it for him. Bucky was a little drunk and a lot heartbroken, because he feared he’d never get to meet you. That he’d die in the war and leave you stranded.

After all those years, it finally ended up in your hands.

“Did you read it?”

You shake your head. “I hold it a lot. Sleep with it under my pillow. I could never bring myself to read it, though. Steve told me you wrote it in case you died before you got to meet me?”

Bucky nods slowly.

“Well,” you smile softly. “You’re right here.”

Bucky does the unthinkable. He reaches over with his flesh hand, fingers outstretched and palm up. It takes you a second before you realize what he’s silently asking. Gently, you place your hand in his, holding back your tears as his fingers wrap around yours.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, tears gathering in his eyes, too. Then, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe I finally found you.”

That sentence is the one that breaks you. Your lip quivers and the dam breaks. So many years of not knowing. More years of knowing, of living with the fact of your soulmate being dead. Two years of looking. And finally--

Finally, he’s here.

More of the unthinkable happens when the tears spill over your cheeks. Bucky doesn’t expect himself to do this either, but he can’t stand to see you crying. He rolls his chair closer, hand slipping from yours only so he can gather you in his arms.

Your arms wrap around his neck while his fit around your waist. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says into your neck, your skin wet with his tears.

“I’m sorry too,” you cry, fingers threading through his hair.

For a moment, all that exists are your two souls, finally at peace, now that they have found one another.

+++

The plan is to travel to Wakanda by Quinjet. Tony arranged everything with T’Challa, so all that’s left is for you, Bucky, and Steve to board.

Steve opts to fly the jet, which leaves you alone with Bucky. Again.

“Hey Bucky?”

“Yes, doll?”

You’re still not used to him calling you doll. You never thought he’d be comfortable enough for that, let alone the way he hugged you earlier.

But you guess that’s just what happens when you finally find your soulmate.

You try to focus. There’s one question that has been gnawing at your mind -- and everyone else’s, even Steve’s -- since it happened.

“You don’t have to answer if it’s too hard, or complicated, but can I ask why--” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “When you were the Soldier, why were you protecting me?” Your eyes meet Bucky’s. “Why did you tell me that your orders were to protect me? You nearly killed anyone else you saw and it just…”

You see it when Bucky remembers that he said those words to you as the Soldier. He takes a few moments, collecting himself, and you expect him to not say anything else. Which you would be fine with. You know it’s hard-- more than hard, to deal with.

But he begins explaining.

“When they first tried to program me,” he sighs, almost shudders, “it didn’t work very well. I fought it harder than they were expecting, I guess.” There is no pride hiding in his tone, only disgust. “They had to somehow convince me I was doing it all for you, to protect you. I don’t think they ever thought I’d meet you, but at one point they had to tell me I was following your orders. All I could think about was you, so they had to...use that to their advantage.”

“I understand,” you say because you can’t think of anything else. What do you say to something like that? Nothing you say will make it better. He’s aching, you can feel it, and it kills you knowing that there are no magical words to make it all go away.

“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” Bucky’s worried voice brings you back down.

“No,” you shake your head, even though you know no matter how many times you say it, he won’t be convinced. “You didn’t, I swear. You wanted me as close to you as possible and you followed my every word. It was...strange. I could tell it wasn’t you, but…” You stop yourself, not wanting to admit that you had briefly wanted the Soldier to stay. But that was before Bucky would actually look at you and hold a conversation with you, like he’s doing now. Now, you know this is who you want to stay. Your Bucky.

“Could you feel it?” He asks quietly, eyes focusing on his hands instead of your face. “When I would…”

“Yes,” you answer, not needing him to say it. “I didn’t know that’s what I was feeling until I found out that you were the Soldier, but yes.”

“I remember when I started to feel you,” he says softly, a smile almost crossing his face. “It didn’t last long because they would wipe my memory, but it was...probably the best day of my life. Knowing you were somewhere out there.”

“Why’d you say you didn’t know me?” You ask, briefly wondering if you’re treading in dangerous waters.

“I didn’t want to believe it was really you,” Bucky admits, shaking his head. “After all these years-- All the hell I went through, and then there you were, standing in my apartment.” He looks up to meet your eyes and finds tears there. “I knew from the way you were feeling that it wasn’t for a good reason. I had seen the paper, too. I knew I was in trouble.” He pauses, wiping one of your tears away. “I wanted to protect you, doll. That’s all I’ve ever been trying to do.”

His hand lingers, and you lean into his touch, gripping his wrist to keep him there.

“And then you started jumping off buildings after me,” he jokes, earning a small laugh from you. 

“You were really pissing me off doing that, you know,” you tease.

“Yeah, well,” his serious tone makes you open your eyes. “If you ever jump out of a building like that again…”

“Don’t make me run after you again, then,” you reply, just as serious.

“That’s a fair deal,” he smiles.

A moment passes, Bucky’s thumb brushing your cheek.

“Just for the record,” Steve’s voice comes from the front. “You guys make me sick.”

Laughter fills the cab of the Quinjet, and your tears recede like an ocean’s waves. 

Steve talks to fill the silence, sharing more stories as he remembers them. Bucky jokes about how small Steve used to be, how he could pick Steve up with one arm back in the day. 

Of course, the “back in the day” comment earned a snort of laughter from you. They are extremely old, despite not looking like it.

+++

Before you know it, you’re landing in Wakanda.

T’Challa and his sister, Shuri, greet the three of you outside the Quinjet. 

“You’re the famous Shuri we’ve heard so much about,” you joke. She’s a lot younger than you were expecting, but somehow that makes you love her a little more.

“He talks about me?” Shuri gasps, playfully nudging her brother’s arm. “What a shocker. You must be the one who talked some sense into his thick head.”

There is no muffling your laughter, not when Shuri is grinning, eyeing T’Challa for his reaction, which is a tired stare.

The King moves the conversation forward. “This is Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers,” he gestures to the two men beside you.

“Two broken white boys to fix?” Shuri asks, all in good nature.

“No, no,” Steve shakes his head. “I’m alright.”

You give Shuri a look, earning a laugh. Oh yeah. You’re going to love it here.

That’s if you’re staying-- if Bucky wants you to stay.

“Come, come,” Shuri turns and starts walking, motioning for you all to follow. “We have everything ready for you. And I think we have found a starting point on how to get all of that nasty HYDRA programming out of your brain,” Shuri gestures to her head with a look of disgust.

You can’t help but smile. That’s the best news of the day. If there really is hope for erasing all of HYDRA from Bucky’s brain, then you’re willing to believe in it.

Shuri leads you all to what you learn is Wakanda’s sort of hospital. It’s nothing like the kind in America. The blankness that would send any sane person spiraling if they were there for long enough. Wakanda’s hospital feels more like a home, a safe place where Bucky can get the help he needs.

You only say all this because you feel and see him physically relax when you enter the building. Some panic was still swimming inside of him, but you weren’t sure why, until now. He must’ve thought it was still too good to be true, until he laid his eyes on it.

You turn your head to look at him, offering a smile. He grabs your hand in return, squeezing gently.

“Will you be staying here as well, Captain?” T’Challa asks, seemingly out of nowhere. “We are happy to have you.”

“No, but I will visit,” Steve replies, sending Bucky a smile. “As much as he’ll let me.”

“You can visit whenever you want, punk,” Bucky shoots back easily, surprising himself.

“And what about you, Y/N?” Shuri asks. “I’m sorry I went snooping around on the background checks, but I could use a brain like yours around here.”

Bucky’s chest fills with confusion. Upon feeling this, you shrug and tell him, “My degree is in psychology with an emphasis on cognitive and neuropsychology.” You pause, suddenly sheepish. “You should’ve seen the look on my best friend’s face when I told her I was switching to that from history.”

“Didn’t you still minor in history?” Steve inquires -- basically throwing you under the bus.

“Yes,” you murmur. “With an emphasis on WWII.”

You feel it when some different emotion rises in Bucky’s chest, one you don’t think you’ve felt from him before. You can’t pinpoint it, but maybe that’s for the better.

“But to answer your question,” you chuckle, returning to Shuri. “I wouldn’t mind sticking around. If you’ll have me, of course.” You pause, tugging on Bucky’s hand. “And if you’re okay with that.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere, doll.”

“Good,” you murmur. “Because I’m not.”

Of course, this is when you and Bucky realize (yet again) that you are not the only ones in the room, which has Shuri grinning and T’Challa sharing a look with Steve.

Oh, well. You and Bucky have years of time to make up for. Everyone else will have to deal with it.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #fluff

[tsushimanoonryo]

Drabble: Chiyoko pt. 2

“Your sister is behaving strangely again.”

Hiroto sighed. Chiyoko was always behaving strangely and Kazumasa was always complaining about it. As if Hiroto could stop his sister from doing what she wanted. He’d tried and failed every time.

Even so, he turned his head to look at his Chiyoko. She was meant to be on the veranda practicing her calligraphy. She was actually meant to be in the house practicing her calligraphy but she’d thrown a minor tantrum because she wanted to be outside like her brothers. Chiyoko might not have gotten her way had her mother not happened to pass by and witness the scene.

“There’s nothing wrong with her getting a little fresh air,” Lady Shimura had said indulgently. “After all, it’s a lovely day. Let her practice in the sunlight. It may do her good.”

The tutor couldn’t argue with the wife of the jito, so Chiyoko had gotten her way in the end. But she’d abandoned her work and was off near the garden pond chasing butterflies while her poor tutor ran after her. It was actually sort of funny and Hiroto had to suppress a laugh. He wasn’t supposed to encourage her antics.

“I can’t believe our parents are making me marry her,” Kazumasa continued with a frown. “She’s going to be the worst wife ever.”

“She’s only eleven,” Hiroto replied. “My mother says she will mature by the time you are to marry.”

“Your mother lets her do whatever she wants,” Kazumasa said. “She’s going to turn feral if she isn’t careful.”

“You were an unholy terror when you were eleven,” Hiroto pointed out. “You still are. Maybe my sister is the one who is getting the raw deal.”

Kazumasa’s frown disappeared as he barked out a laugh.

“You’re right about that.” he said with a grin. “But still, it’s different for women. They should be more graceful, shouldn’t they?”

And you should be a little more respectful of the jito’s only daughter, Hiroto thought. The one they’ve graciously betrothed to you.

But he left the words unspoken. He himself thought that his sister could stand to show a little more poise every now and then.

“Forget her,” Hiroto said, walking toward the sparring ring. “We’ve got work to do, don’t we?”

He selected a good-sized bokken and gave it a few test swings before turning to Kazumasa.

“Come,” he said, holding the point of it toward his friend. “Let’s duel.”

………………………………………………….

“Kazumasa doesn’t like me,” Chiyoko whispered to him after dinner. 

They were all sitting out in the garden, enjoying sake and the full moon while Lady Sakai plucked out a rhythm on her koto and Lady Shimura played a pleasant melody on her shakuhachi. Hiroto’s father and Lord Sakai were deep in quiet conversation about some private matter and the Shimura boys were laughing boisterously with Lord Sakai’s son. Only Hiroto and his sister were somewhat removed from the revelry.

“What do you mean?” Hiroto asked quietly, shooting a look toward the others to make sure they weren’t listening. “Did he say something to you?”

“No,” she said. “But he says things to you. He said things to you today.”

She made her voice deeper and furrowed her brow.

“‘She’s going to be the worst wife ever,’” she repeated in a fair approximation of Kazumasa’s voice. “‘She’s going to turn feral.’”

Hiroto furrowed his brow. Chiyoko had been across the yard when he and Kazumasa had spoken. There was no way she could have heard what they discussed.

Chiyoko always knew too much. She knew things that were spoken about in hushed tones that she shouldn’t have been able to hear. She seemed to know what people did when they were alone as well. It was absolutely uncanny and spooked Hiroto on more than one occasion. 

“Kazumasa is young and stupid,” he said, trying to ignore the chill that crept up his spine. “There are still many years between now and your marriage. He will come around.”

Chiyoko didn’t say anything, but kicked at a rock with the toe of her zori. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight, but it seemed like there was a strange glint in her eye. It might have been the same look in her eyes she had the day she showed up dirty and ragged to Castle Shimura.

“Chiyoko…” He said uncertainly. “Do you want me to say something to mother and father?”

She shook her head.

“They will be angry with him,” she said. “It will cause problems with Lord and Lady Sakai.”

That much was true. His parents thought of her as a gift from the kami and treated her as such. They were much more indulgent with Chiyoko than they had been with any of their sons. If they knew of Kazumasa’s unkind words, they might rescind the betrothal offer and the alliance would suffer. 

“I will speak to him, then,” Hiroto said, but Chiyoko cut him off.

“No,” she said. “I will. I might only be a girl, but I’m a samurai’s daughter. I can fight my own battles. Even if they are only verbal ones.”

“You think you can win against Kazumasa Sakai?” he asked.

“I know that I can,” she said. And she sounded so sure of herself that Hiroto was half-convinced she was right.

………………………………………………….

The revelry ended shortly after their conversation and Chiyoko hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Kazumasa. Hiroto had planned on saying something to him when they tucked into bed for the evening, but Kazumasa had not yet learned to hold his sake and he was snoring by the time his head hit the futon.

The next morning was busy as well, with servants rushing back and forth to be able to send the Sakai family back home to Omi after the morning meal. Kazumasa complained of a headache and his mother nagging him about making sure all of his things were packed. He was in a foul mood and Hiroto didn’t want to make it worse by lecturing him. 

Perhaps it’s for the best, he thought. By the time we visit them in Omi, Chiyoko will have forgotten all about it.

Upon his father’s instruction, Hiroto and his brothers were to ride part of the way back to Omi with the Sakai retinue to escort them through the Shimura lands. He and Kazumasa usually made a game of racing each other on trips like this, but his friend was sullen and unusually quiet.

“You really did drink far too much last night, didn’t you?” Hiroto asked with a laugh.

“Oh shut up,” Kazumasa groaned.

“Surely the worst of it has passed?”

“I kept breakfast down, didn’t I?” Kazumasa retorted. 

“But only barely from the looks of it.”

“You Shimura are a pain in my ass,” Kazumasa grumbled. “You know your sister spoke to me last night? She had some choice words, that’s for sure.”

Hiroto stopped his horse short.

“What?” he asked. “When?”

“I don’t know,” Kazumasa answered. “I was still half-drunk, I think.”

“Kazumasa,” Hiroto said. “You couldn’t have spoken with Chiyoko last night.”

“I tell you I did,” he argued. “We were out in the garden and she was right in front of me, just as you are now. I remember it. The fireflies were out. The glow made her look like a ghost. She said I needed to watch what I say about her, or she would make things worse than anything I could experience in any of the eighteen hells. It was a little frightening.”

“A dream,” Hiroto said. “It sounds like it was a dream. My sister wouldn’t make threats.”

Kazumasa frowned in thought.

“It seemed real,” he said. “But now that you mention it, I don’t remember speaking to her before we all retired to bed. And I don’t know why I would have gone back out to the garden so late. Or why she would have been there.”

“You had a guilty conscience for speaking ill of her earlier in the day,” Hiroto said. “So you dreamed about it.”

“That’s somehow worse,” Kazumasa groaned. “I wanted to dream about that girl from the teahouse. Tsuna with her big beautiful…”

“Kazumasa!” Hiroto hissed, slightly embarrassed.

“Bah,” he groused.

“Dream or not,” Hiroto continued. “Chiyoko was right. You know how my parents feel about her. If they think you are disrespecting her, they would not hesitate to end the betrothal. That would be bad for both of our families.”

“I know,” Kazumasa said. “She’s just…”

Hiroto shot him a look of warning and Kazumasa shut his mouth.

“Alright, you win,” he said. “I’ll hold my tongue.”

“For once in your life.”

“Pain in the ass,” Kazumasa repeated. “All of you.”

#drabble #headcanon #chiyoko sakai #chiyoko shimura #lord shimura #fanfic #ghost of tsushima #backstory #cut for length #kazumasa sakai #chiyoko sakai was a kitsune and you cannot tell me otherwise

[soukokuwu]

Sushi.. sushi.. What if.. hear me out. An organization or something finds out Chooya has an S/O and targets them. Threatens to kill them, you could make it that they kill them. I dunno— You have so much fluff requests and I just wanna.. allow you to make some angst and break my fragile heart.

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➥ angst [chuuya x reader]

➥ warning/s: death

➥ word count: 2.5k

➥ summary: the things that make chuuya human.

➥ notes: seven! i made this a full fic too if you don’t mind and and i hope this can make you sad 😔✊🏼

Life is a series of moments.

Meeting you was arguably the best moment of Chuuya’s life. Being with you was probably the best decision he’s ever made. Every moment with you was fleeting, but precious.

Being a Port Mafia executive didn’t allow for a lot of free time, especially not for someone as formidable as Nakahara Chuuya. Most days he is worked to the bone, and he can’t seem to refuse orders no matter how much you nagged at him to take care of himself.

You never once made him feel bad about it though. No matter how many times he’s showed up late to meet you, or how many times he’s had to cancel dates. Even when he had to celebrate your birthday late because something urgent came up that Mori absolutely needed him to handle that night.

Chuuya always made up for it. Always surprising you with his sweetness, although you’ve never expected him to do anything for you. The mafia was very important to him, and you knew that. You accepted that, why would you have agreed to be with him otherwise? You understood very well that it meant busy schedules and danger, but you loved him more than you would ever allow yourself to be petty or scared of his enemies.

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Life is a series of moments; some more fleeting than others.

Chuuya remembered all of them. Some were small yet important moments.

The first moment he saw you walk into the cafe. All he had wanted was to spend lunch alone, away from headquarters, away from all the headache. You were a soothe to his migraines, something he had not bargained for. Thank god the cafe was packed and he was the nearest to you; you wouldn’t have sat with him otherwise.

The first moment your hands brushed against each other on the first date; it was a simple movie date. The cliché hands brushing against each other on the armrest kind of thing. Where he would usually gag upon thinking of such things, when he replayed it in his head with you as the subject, he’d always smile at the memory.

The first moment your lips found each other, the way your tongues danced in harmony with the taste of wine still lingering in each other’s tongues. How could he ever forget? It was the first time his heart pounded so loudly he felt it might jump out of his chest. That was when he asked you to be his girlfriend. And you gave him the answer he prayed for.

The first moment you slept over and it was filled with innocent intimacy— Chuuya’s chest pressed up against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist and the scent of your hair permeating his senses. He remembered you chuckling as you told him to quit looking at you and sleep, and he remembered the way goosebumps formed on your skin as he whispered, low and raspy, into your ear a “goodnight, my princess.”

Then there were subtle moments that slowly spiralled into something bigger.

The first moment he visited your parents with you, and they had been so warm and welcoming. Had it not been for them, Chuuya would have never known ‘parental love’. They were people with such kind souls; they accepted him as an ability user, said that he was welcome anytime, even if you weren’t there with him. And he immediately knew where you got your kind nature from. They never expected anything more from him than the usual; to treat their daughter right. And damn right he would. When you had gone to the restroom they looked at him with such genuity as they said they’d be blessed if they ended up with such a sweet son-in-law like him.

The first moment you talked with him about the possibilities of having a family, expecting him to freak out but instead he agreed. He’d be honoured to have one with you. And you told him he’d have to come up with a heck of a proposal to lock you in forever. The both of you were aware of what a lie that was, though— you’ve had each other’s hearts since the first few dates, there was no way you’d say no.

But the moment he treasured the most? The life-changing moments.

The day he actually did propose, in a simple humble way— in front of the only people who mattered: you and your parents. He had asked for your parents’ permission to take your hand in marriage beforehand, and they easily agreed, welcoming him with open arms. He still remembered that being the first day your father called him ‘son’, and they had shared the warmest hug he’s ever felt from anyone other than you.

The moment you said ‘yes’ and the both of you had tears in your eyes. He had slipped the ring through your finger and got up from his knee, hugging his now-fiancée, your parents clapping in the background.

“I’ll protect you forever, my princess,” Chuuya vowed.

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But life-changing moments could mean both good and bad, and that day set the tone for the rest of Chuuya’s life, whether he liked it or not.

“Okay but promise you’ll be back later?” you had asked him, getting up to send him off at the door for yet another mission.

“I promise, my princess,” he replied, smiling at you and giving you a quick peck on the cheek. Chuuya noticed your wide grin and arched a brow. “What’re you so smiley about? Has all the wedding planning got to your head?”

You playfully punched him on the shoulder and looked around to make sure no one was near— the both of you had been at your parents’ house to ask them for opinions on the wedding. It was coming up in a month and everything was almost settled. Almost.

“Hmm, I’m not too sure about it yet, but I’ll leave it as a surprise when you get home later,” you teased, sticking out your tongue.

Chuuya let out a resigned sigh, ruffling your hair. “Fine, I’ll try to be back as fast as I can then,” he told you, giving you another kiss before he turned to go.

And he did make it back.

Just not in time.

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Please be okay, please be okay.

It replayed like a chant in his head as he continued to make a beeline to get to you. Flashes of your smile crossed his mind as he sped through the city on his bike, tears already streaming down his face. He prayed and prayed for your safety, although the rational part of him knew that it was useless. The only one who could do anything was him.

He should’ve caught on sooner. The enemies were buying time by drawling out the fight with him. They were angry at the Port Mafia— more specifically, with Chuuya— for killing their leader. And they wanted him to pay for it.

But they knew they weren’t going to get his head.

So they went for the next best thing: you.

Their earlier conversation replayed in Chuuya’s head, no matter how much he begged for it to stop.

“You’re the vessel of a god, of Arahabaki, aren’t you?” the new leader had taunted, unfazed by Chuuya’s presence. “You’ve never known fear, or danger, have you? To be weak, to be... human.”

“Get to the point, asshole.”

“I don’t really have one, except...” and he had grinned, the most triumphant grin he’s ever had. “I know your weakness.”

Chuuya had rolled his eyes. “Then come at me, if you dare,” the redhead had coolly replied, completely unperturbed. But the next sentence that had floated to his ears might as well have killed him.

“Oh, I’m not going to do shit to you, boy,” the leader had revealed. His grin had grown even wider. “Let me show you how human you can be.”

And he did.

The sight that greeted Chuuya when he got to your parents’ house he’d never forget. White mahogany door wide open, the lock broken, no lights on and the biggest kick to the guts? Even a few feet away from the house, he could see the blood spattered on the floor.

As he rushed into the house, it played in his mind over and over again — your smile, your laugh, the way you moved, the way you loved; all the moments you spent together, or even when you were apart and all he could think of was you. Now, he wasn’t even religious but he was praying to god that you were safe.

But life was harsh. It dashed his hopes in a matter of seconds. Because moments later, he had your lifeless body in his arms, tears streaming down his cheeks and your blood getting on his face as he tried to kiss you awake.

“No, no, please come back to me, please wake up,” he mumbled, over and over, touching your bloody face and kissing your eyelids, hoping that they’d somehow open. “I haven’t made you my wife yet please get up, princess.”

But your body temperature said you’d been there for a few hours already. It was pointless.

The moment he gathered the courage to look around the room, he wished he didn’t. There, just a few feet away from you, at the edge of the living room, next to the kitchen counter, your parents lay beside each other, hands clasped together, bodies as lifeless as yours.

And as his eyes caught on to what you had been holding onto as you died, Chuuya’s heart fell.

It was your ‘surprise’ for him.

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Life is full of fleeting moments.

Life, in itself, could be fleeting.

A month later, he brought flowers for each of you. He’d been diligent this time, in visiting your graves everyday. You had no other close family members, so he’d had to settle everything. All of you were next to each other, and as he looked at your gravestones, an image of the four of you having your last meal together at your parents’ house flashed across his mind.

He stifled back the tears. No, not out here. Not again. Chuuya had already lost count of how many times he’s grieved for too long at the cemetery. Not today. No. Today was supposed to be your wedding. Yet here he was, standing on your grave.

Chuuya clenched his fist at the thought, and then remembered the flowers he brought. He brought one for each of you.

He placed a bouquet on your father’s grave. He had tied a note to it, saying ‘It would’ve been an honor to be your son, dad.’ Chuuya couldn’t hold his tears in any longer as he thought about the way he had so warmly welcomed Chuuya into the family. The way he called him ‘son’, how they’d just watch tv together in the living room while you and your mother would be preparing their favourite meal. He remembered your father whispering to him, “you know, I never thought I wanted a son, until I met you.” They had shared a hug after that. “You’re a good kid.”

Chuuya clenched his fist. If there was something he could hit he would. No. How could he be a good kid? His mere involvement with his daughter led to their entire family’s demise. How could he be good? How could he have ever deserved to be called ‘son’ by the man who gave him the kind of love he wished he always had?

The tears didn’t stop there, because they got even heavier as Chuuya turned to look at your mother’s grave. He placed another bouquet on her’s, the note tied there said ‘You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I’m so glad your daughter took after you.’ Because it’s true. He’s heard of the sacrifices your mother’s made for the family. How she put everything she wanted aside for you and your father, so you could each live out your dream while she stayed put and became the mother and wife that you both needed. Chuuya never spent a lot of time alone with her, but he remembered your father telling him, “I’d die for her. I’d kill anyone who tried to come near her.”

You should’ve killed me, you should’ve turned me away. You shouldn’t have let me be with your daughter. It’s all my fault.

And as he walked over to your grave, he held two bouquets. No, he didn’t miscalculate. He put one down, to which the note said ‘If I could’ve done it all over again, I would’ve loved you right.’ Chuuya fell to his knees as he recalled everything about you; every memory he had with you. How close you two were coming to being blissful. It had been a month since that fateful night, and today was supposed to be the day of the wedding.

Slowly, he pulled a note out of his pocket and looked at your name carved in the headstone. “Hey princess,” he whispered, trying hard not to choke on his tears. “We, uh, never got to do this so let me read you mine, okay? But only if you promise not to laugh.”

And he laughs at how stupid he was being. He wished you could laugh, and tell him how silly it sounded. But you couldn’t. He still read it out loud for you anyway.

“Never in all my life, did I think I’d be so lucky as to be able to marry someone like you. You’re my best friend, my confidant, my lover, my home. I’ll follow you wherever you go, and I promise to support you in whatever you do. I’ve always wondered how you always seem to make me feel at home, and I found the answer in your parents.” Chuuya looked over to their graves, more tears threatening to spill out. “Mom, dad, I’m so glad I’m finally able to be a part of your family now when I’ve never had one. You have both taught me what it means to be a good parent,” and the redhead turns his attention back to your grave, softly calling your name. “I promise I’ll be the best husband, and I promise to put you... and our baby first.”

And then he placed down the other bouquet right next to yours. “How silly of me, vowing to put you both first but failing to protect either of you,” he choked out as he cried.

That night he lost everything. The only real parental figures he ever had, the love of his life, and the only one he could possibly love more than you.

He stared at the note on the last bouquet: ‘I wish you could’ve seen the world, I would’ve given you everything, my child.’

Chuuya lost what was, what is, and what could’ve been, all in one night. All solely because he existed.

He felt everything; grief, loss, terror. He’s dying on the inside. He’s never felt more human.

And he thinks he’ll never recover.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes @sigmas-cursedcookies-writing

#pls tell me y’all were sad ;-; #rachwrote #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd oneshot #bsd scenarios #bsd x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #chuuya x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs chuuya x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd imagine #bsd angst #bsd scenario #bsd oneshots #bsd chuuya oneshots

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.30}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Yet. Right." Robin repeated in a sigh, then removed her wand from her hair when the bun started hurting her head. It did little to lessen the headache that was starting to drum through her skull, but shaking her hair out of the restraint at least took some of the tension away. Little victories like that were important too.

"Actually, we do have a few answers now." Snape said after a moment, after again watching gravity at work on untangling the mess of waves cascading down Robin's back. "Morgan did come in here, and he most likely was talking about the portrait today indeed. We still have to see about the earrings, in due time. Other than that, we now have an answer to a question that goes all the way back to the start of this term."

"What do you mean?"

"The night of the welcoming feast. Morgan brought it up himself today, which quite honestly is what made me draw the connection in the first place."

"Right… You mean the entire ordeal in the hallway which McGonagall brought to an end."

"Yes. During your encounter back then, Morgan wanted to hold on to your locket as a keepsake. That line of behavior would certainly make more sense if at that point he already was in the possession of the portrait, seeing as the locket is perhaps not the most obvious, but indeed the most palpable connection between you and the woman portrayed. He hardly would have known about the locket otherwise, seeing as it isn't the most noticeable piece of jewelry."

"You're absolutely right… I should've thought of that connection way earlier!" Robin groaned in annoyance at herself, astonishment at the fact, and concern at the implications. How Snape even remembered little details like that was incredible in its own right, but the fact that Morgan might have been after the locket because of the portrait was a revelation she hadn't thought would clear the picture of the past events in her mind quite so much. Things at last started making a little more sense. "My locket and the portrait are connected somehow, that much we already could tell years ago. But it makes me uneasy to think that Morgan has something to do with it."

"Likewise. Perhaps you should take it off for the time being, until the issue is solved."

"Yeah… The bracelet too, probably, sad as that makes me. It was the first thing you gave to me that I didn't have to return by the end of the week like the books I borrowed." She smiled up at him, a sad half smile that showed defeat more than humour. "But you were the first person who ever gave me anything for my birthday at all, who ever thought of me in the first place, and that's all that matters to me. I can live without a piece of jewelry."

"I really was the first to give you a gift for your birthday? In all of eighteen years?"

"Yes. The very best gift even, when you got Jorien and Cas to make me see the day as a real celebration worth having. But I have to admit, you asking Dumbledore to take the bracelet out of this room was also-..." Robin cut herself off in the middle of her sentence, then stopped in her track and stood glued to the spot. The nagging in her mind turned into a sledgehammer that tore down the brick wall that had obscured her sight before, but now that it was gone, she could finally see. Or rather, she could wonder.

"What is it?" Snape asked as he came to stand right in front of her, both concerned and curious as ever. That really was a good way to sum up both of their sentiments currently, concerned and curious. "Robin?"

"Wait a second…" She replied on autopilot, while her mind pondered a question that she finally decided to voice when she couldn't answer it herself. "When you wanted to give me the bracelet, did you ask Dumbledore before or after removing it from this room?"

"Before, obviously, because-…" Now it was him who stopped in the middle of the sentence, when he caught on to Robin's line of thought. "Because one cannot remove from this place what was left for storage here without the current headmaster's permission."

"That's what I thought." Robin replied with a long breath, then jumped into action to look around herself in a sudden spark of adrenaline, upon which she finally picked up a random book from a pile to her right. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, it-..." He didn't get any further, for Robin had crossed the remaining few steps towards the door, then opened it and tossed the book through the opening and out into the hallway beyond. She tried to, at least, for the book got caught in the air in the middle of the door frame, floating there for but a broken second, before it was catapulted right back into the room of hidden things at a speed that turned the harmless piece of literature into a lethal projectile. Robin was just lucky that Snape pulled her out of the way in an instant, otherwise the flying book would have taken quite a bit of work off Morgan's hands. They didn't have time for her timely end right now!

"You really are remarkable at putting yourself in harm's way." Snape huffed in concern-turned-annoyance when the loud clattering of the book's distant landing had subsided, and it was just then that Robin realized how desperately he was clawing onto her right now. She felt bad for repeatedly scaring him in an instant; first the thing with Morgan –which hadn't technically been her fault, but it still counted to worry him– and now this thoughtlessness on her end. Or rather the result of too much thinking, and too little care for the real world results in contrast to the intellectual gain of the endeavour. Why was she only ever truly scared of getting hurt by people, not by something she did to herself? It was one more thing to work on at some point.

"You're remarkable at keeping me out of harm's way in return. And to be fair, I didn't think it would do that out of all the things it could've done." She finally replied with a weak half smile as she looked up at him. No. Humour wouldn't do now, that much was clearly written on his face. She sighed in resignation. "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me, I should've known better. This whole day, the thing with Morgan… it has thrown me into an odd ambivalence myself. I'm absolutely terrified and at the same time all the adrenaline makes me act like I'm bloody invincible. But that's no excuse, it really was just stupid of me and I'm sorry."

"Coming that close to death doesn't pass by anyone without consequences. Neither does torture." He said after a few seconds of silence, with an expression almost as guilty as Robin's own. "It is only too reasonable that your behaviour is rather erratic, and even if I cannot say I appreciate it, I do very well understand it. If anything, I am surprised by how well you seem to cope with the situation."

"It's not the first time I've come closer to death than anyone should. Only the first time I know who the person is that wants to see me dead." She shrugged in return, but after taking one glance at the expression of prevailing concern on Snape's face, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and gave in to the urge to lean into him once more with a sigh. She knew that he didn't mind in the least… and the work that kept her on her feet might as well wait for a minute. "To be honest, it's currently less coping and more of simply repressing and pushing through. Just wait until tonight when I actually have the time to come down from the adrenaline… It'll be a nightmare."

"I will be there." He replied quietly, holding her closer against himself than his calm demeanour would suggest, then remained silent for a moment longer before speaking on. "Stay with me tonight."

"That must be a first." Robin chuckled quietly, but kept her eyes closed to enjoy at least this short moment of calm for now. "Usually I have to pretend to be asleep for you to let me stay over in your rooms."

"You are terrible at pretending, I can always tell when you do."

"Only because I want you to."

"I know…" He replied in as close to a sigh as his composure allowed. "And I know that I will not be able to close my eyes for even a minute tonight if you are not with me."

"Not without seeing all that could have been if things had ended differently. Without the shadows and ghosts and darkness. I know, all too well." She said, then smiled into the cloud of fabric around her. "And in addition to that, it's been way too long since I stayed over last, even though I always love to. Whenever it's possible. You know that."

"I do indeed."

"And I love you. Beyond what's possible."

"I know." His tone let on a hint of a smile, then he placed a fleeting kiss on the top of her head while his arms around her tightened their hold so much that Robin had to smile. He never said he loved her with words in return. He didn't need to.

"We should get back to work… It's almost time for dinner, and I want to check Morgan's office before then." She said after taking a deep breath to savour the comforting scent of him, of home. "I really have no wish to run into him again today. Especially not after just discovering that we are the underdogs in this entire issue."

"What makes you think that we are?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked as she pulled back at last, and fully snapped back into work mode as they left the room of hidden things behind to walk through the dark corridors of the castle again. "If Morgan had to ask for Dumbledore's permission to take the painting, then the old man must know why Morgan wanted it in the first place. He wouldn't have given him the permission if he hadn't seen through his reasons entirely."

"I agree."

"So Dumbledore knows why this is happening, he knows Morgan's reasons. He knows what Morgan is doing to me. He gave Morgan the permission to keep the painting, and he has let him proceed in what he has been doing to me for years now."

"Indeed. But we have been aware of that problem for a while now."

"Dumbledore never does anything that isn't to his own advantage. And if he lets Morgan do all that to me…" Robin sighed gravely, and looked up at Snape with the most serious expression. "I think Dumbledore wants Morgan to kill me."

"That is-..." Snape cut himself and his automatic response off in an instant, but he returned Robin's dark expression nonetheless for a moment while her words seemed to run circles in his mind. Finally, he seemed to find his own line of thought again. "While I do have to agree with your reasoning, there is still a lot speaking against the conclusion you came to. I am not saying you aren't right, but I believe there is more to it than that. You are leaving certain matters out of the equation."

"And what would that be?"

"Me, for example."

"You?" Robin frowned at him in confusion. "You'll have to elaborate on that."

"If Dumbledore wanted you dead, why would he have been in favour of the connection between you and me right from the start, and at every point since?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at Robin in return. "He is a brilliant man, I have no doubt he knew that we would end up where we are now long before we did. Thus he must have known that we would always stand two against one in the end. My involvement makes it infinitely more difficult to have you killed, which in return would make it unreasonable for him to encourage our relations. "

"You're right… That doesn't add up." Robin mused with a lingering frown. "Neither does the book he gave me, now that I think about it. Ensuring that I know more about the unforgivables than the person he wants to see killing me would be an odd way to prepare me for slaughter."

"Correct."

"What a fucking mess…" Robin groaned under her breath, then rolled her eyes to herself and at the ceiling before taking a deep breath to regain some composure. "So if Dumbledore doesn't want me dead, then why would he let Morgan proceed in trying to kill me? It's not like he couldn't put an immediate end to those efforts if he actually wanted to…"

"That we will find out. Morgan's reasons as well as Dumbledore's."

"With my luck, I probably have to die to prevent the world's impending demise or something likely unlikely… The most exaggeratedly dramatic thing we could ever think of, that will probably be my fate. Just for irony's sake."

"I will gladly see the world in ashes before I let you die."

"I know." She had to smile yet again, and couldn't resist to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze even though they were in public. If one wanted to call a secret passageway from the seventh floor down to the fourth 'public', that is. "But whether it's the world we're saving or just me, I refuse to die before I graduate. I've put far too much effort into my essays and homework recently to let that all go to waste!"

Snape let out something that sounded like a snort and a scoff at once, and quietly shook his head to himself as they finally reached the fourth floor and crossed over into another corridor to continue their path towards Morgan's classroom. Robin was content with the reaction, and focused back on the matter at hand.

"How do we go on from here?" She asked in a whisper only, for who knew which prying ears might be nearby in a public hallway like this. "I mean… If we find it here, how do we go on?"

"We could confront the headmaster, for example. With a piece of evidence like that, not even he could deny his involvement in the issue. He might not give us the truth, but perhaps more leads to follow nonetheless."

"That sounds as close to a plan as we will probably get." Robin nodded, more to herself than to him. "In any case, McGonagall seems to know something about this entire thing as well, and I'm not convinced she's too happy about any of this either. She wanted to tell me, but the headmaster obviously asked her not to, and I at least can respect her loyalty. Too bad it is Dumbledore who is at the receiving end of it… She would make a good ally."

"Curious that you have taken a liking to Minerva after all."

"Oh, you know… If McGonagall can work with Jorien, who really isn't the easiest person to deal with from my own experience, she deserves some credit at least, if not my sincere respect."

"Funny." Snape replied with a not-smirk. "A while ago, she said much the same thing about you, for working with me."

Robin had to bite her lip quite hard to keep from snorting. They were in close proximity to the defense classroom, and loud noises like that were a no-go at this point if they wanted to successfully break and enter without drawing attention. So she settled for a soundless laugh, and a small smirk to follow it up.

"I'm glad someone recognizes the troubles of working with you at last." She whispered back softly, glancing up at Snape for but a second, which in return sufficed to take notice of the feigned glare and the not-smirk. Good… humour might do them good at this point.

"If anything, you brought the trouble into my life." He protested with a huff, while checking the corridor for anyone or anything that could observe them. Then he opened the door to the classroom with the same spell that sealed his own down in the dungeons. Robin was surprised, but very much pleased that he seemed to be doing all the breaking for now, and she only had to enter.

"I didn't bring trouble into your life!" She replied nonetheless as they walked into the room, after she'd closed the door behind them and locked it back up. It was no secret that Morgan never came to his classroom nor his office on weekends… Thus the risk of getting caught in here on this late afternoon really was minimal. "As far as I remember, you have far more trouble with people who are not me."

"That, for once, is true." He mused, but kept his eyes on the door to the office they were now approaching. "But you made me realize that I have trouble with everyone who isn't you. Before I met you, I simply thought the world was supposed to be cold and cruel like that, but then you had to saunter into my life and make me question every single thing I believed to know. You just had to show me happiness and thereby make everything that isn't you straight up unbearable, didn't you?" His sigh was dripping with so much feigned annoyance and the utmost irony that Robin couldn't help snorting at last.

"I won't apologise for bringing trouble into your life in that case." She smiled as she watched him working on the sturdy wooden door with spells she doubted were even suitable for the occasion. But she let him proceed anyway. "Seeing as the trouble only extends to people who aren't me."

"I did not say that, nor would I ever dare to." He returned a half-smirk, which made Robin roll her eyes with an even wider smile.

"Why is that?" She finally asked in an attempt not to laugh. They were breaking in somewhere… This wasn't the time for teasing and jokes, and yet they had chosen precisely this time to humour each other indeed. Oh well, why start being ordinary now, after all.

"I might have been surprised for a second, that you didn't consider breaking into my colleague's office as trouble, but then I remembered your liberal approach to breaking into places, which you displayed on multiple occasions last summer. Now, I am led to believe that perhaps you are trouble after all."

"And what if I am?" She raised her eyebrows at him with a small smirk. "Seeing as you've been causing trouble together with me all this time, I could say you're no better."

"You certainly are better at breaking into places than I am." He stated with a scowl at the still closed door, then quirked an eyebrow at Robin. "Would you be so kind to open the door now or is watching me fail too amusing for that?"

"It is quite amusing, but I'll open the door nonetheless." Robin chuckled at his feigned annoyance, then went to make quick work of Morgan's more than poor wards and locks. Thirty seconds later, the door was open, and a smug expression painted on her face as she looked up at Snape at last. "There you go. Anything else I can assist you with?"

"Do shut up, will you?" He grumbled, but Robin only had to snicker as they went to search the office. She knew that he was impressed with her knowledge of legal spells, and even more so by her knowledge of what was (in her opinion unrightfully) considered dark magic. That area didn't only extend to curses after all, and more often than not some of those unseemly spells served them better in their work than the school taught ones did. Either way, right now she knew that his entire dismissive demeanour was merely meant to humour her, and it really did serve that purpose wonderfully well.

After a good ten minutes of searching with as well as without magic, they had to realize though that the portrait wasn't here, nor was anything else that could've given them a clue about the current mysteries. Disappointed but not yet defeated, they locked the office door back up the way they had found it and made their way back out into the hallway. Unseen as ever. By now, it was about dinnertime, and thus they redirected their destination to the great hall instead of the dungeons.

"His private rooms will be a lot more difficult to search." Robin sighed as they reached the staircase that luckily was yet -or already- void of students. "He spends most of his time working from there, especially in the evenings. Or at least that's what I've heard. My information about him doesn't stretch beyond the gossip that makes rounds these days."

"We have to be certain he won't interrupt our search, or it would pose an ideal opportunity for him to justify another attempt on your life. Removing him from the castle shouldn't be a problem though, I believe I can arrange that without drawing too much attention to our goals."

"Wait, what? You can?"

"Years of knowing each other, and you still doubt me. Unbelievable."

"I wouldn't dare to."

He returned a small glare upon her sarcastic tone, but beneath the public facade of stony indifference, there was a layer of humour as almost always these days. Robin doubted that anyone but her had ever seen it though.

"In all seriousness, how soon can you get him away from the castle?" She asked after a moment, as they came to a stop in the hallway that led to the main entrance of the great hall on one end, and to the backdoor on the other. They usually went separate ways from here on, always careful not to arrive together at the wrong times and make the wrong impressions on the wrong people.

"An hour after dinner, perhaps a bit later. But in return he will be gone for a few hours at the least." He replied in certainty, and Robin wondered just how he was going to do that. Especially so quickly, after a day like this that hadn't been easy on Morgan either. She'd have to pay attention during the meal or simply ask about it later. After a few seconds, Snape added, "That should suffice to search his quarters, I believe."

Robin let out a breath in relief upon the prospect of a timely solution, then offered him a smile. "Great. I'll set up the dunderhead gang in the entrance hall to check when he leaves. That way we can be absolutely certain he's gone and not coming back. They can hold watch at least until curfew."

"I could always write them a note to have them stay out later than that, you know… At least I can for the girls. The Ravenclaws are out of my influence."

"I'm aware." She smiled at the memory of her own permission note to break curfew. Gods, that was long ago. "Perhaps we can send them up to the astronomy tower, from up there one can see the very foot of the hill. That would allow for a warning in time to make an escape. I'll ask Cas and Melissa; Jorien's got work with McGonagall, if I'm not mistaken."

Snape scoffed, then rolled his eyes in that lovely exaggerated manner. "Does Minerva ever give the girl a break?"

"Says the man who used to make me work every single night until four o'clock in the morning!" Robin laughed, then shook her head both at him and to herself. "Even on bloody school days!"

"You never seemed to mind." Snape protested with an almost sullen look, and if that was even in the realm of possibility, Robin believed he would start pouting if they'd been alone. Gods, that man was a mystery above all others.

"I didn't just not mind; I absolutely loved it even." Robin replied almost reassuringly, but with more humour than she could tone down. "But so does Jorien. She enjoys working with McGonagall, even if by far more normal hours than we do. No longer than midnight on Fridays and Saturdays and no longer than ten on school nights."

Now, Snape actually did snort for once, even out here in public. "We weren't even done with coffee at that time of night for the majority of the last years."

"We really are a terrible example though!"

"Are we, now? We usually are done working by midnight these days, aren't we?" He raised an eyebrow at her again, more teasing than serious, and Robin was sure they would miss dinner if they kept going like this. It had happened on more than one occasion.

"Well yes, we are, but for entirely different reasons!" She gave him a look, then a smile, then shook her head to herself as her cheeks tinted pink no matter how much she tried to prevent it. They really were done with work earlier than ever these days, as that left them with way more time for private matters afterwards. Not that those private matters didn't occasionally sneak into the lab or the office as well… they did get distracted quite regularly, even. But still, they tried to somehow keep school business and private matters separate now more than ever. That however did not apply for private studies, experiments or research, which they were more than happy to do in their very own kind of way, as they always had. Anyhow, Robin took a deep breath, then tried focusing on the matter at hand. "So, you get Morgan out of the castle as soon as possible, I bargain with Cas and Melissa, and you write them a note later for whoever has patrol duties tonight. Right?"

"Indeed. What reason for your request will you be telling the girls? And what are you willing to offer them in return?"

Robin scoffed, then smirked up at him in both humour and a certain smugness she didn't bother to hide. "What makes you think that they are going to do me the favour? The better question would be what they are willing to do for me if I set up a past curfew visit to the astronomy tower for them. Because they have always wanted to sit there and freeze their little butts off all night. They just don't know it yet."

"Clever." The not-smirk was back in an instant, as was the subtlest expression of pride. "As always."

"I'm trying my best." She replied with a softer smile. "As always."

"I know. I wouldn't be so confident in our plan under any different circumstances. Neither would I break into places for that matter, if it wasn't for you."

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow at him in utmost doubt of what he was saying, and the smirk on her lips made him roll his eyes with a hidden one of his own.

"Dinner. Now. You can harass me later."

"Is that an invitation or are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Get out of my sight already."

With quiet laughter that resonated off the stones around them as a feather light echo, Robin gave him another look that said more than a million words could, then finally made her way down the remainder of the hallway and towards the main entrance with quick steps and a smile on her face. It felt good to laugh and joke again… but she had also learned her lesson today, knew perfectly well what was at stake, and that's precisely why she kept an ever careful eye on her surroundings now more than ever. They still were on a mission after all. A mission they were going to set into action now.

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#snape #severus snape #severus snape x oc #snape x oc #snape imagine #severus snape imagine #snapedom #pro snape #severus snape x ofc #snape x ofc #snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic #snape fanfic #severus snape fic #snape fic #young snape #professor snape #snape x robin #voluptas noctis aeternae #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #professor x student #severus x oc #hogwarts #slytherin #hogwarts fanfiction

[bbyboybrock--archived]

His Little XPLR (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Hi! Tell me how you feel about this colbys daughter is sick with strep laryngitis and a throat infection and basically Colby baby’s her and takes care of her. I know it’s short but it’s the best I got and I’m not the best at explaining

Written: 2020

Word Count: 1,346

Warnings: fluff, swearing

Masterlist

“I should come home. I’m flying home right now. I’m going to book a flight and call my manager. I can be home in like 6 hours. I knew I shouldn’t have gone on this trip.” I hear Y/N panicking on the other line. I hear her muttering to herself and packing up in the background.

“Y/N, babe, stop packing. Stay in New York, you’re on a work trip. I can handle Bea on my own. It’s just a cold I’m sure. I only called to keep you updated on her. I gave her some medicine and I’m going to check on her in an hour. If her fever isn’t gone, I’ll take her to urgent care. You’ve been planning this meeting for a while and it’s a big one. Stay and do your contracts and stuff.” I reassure her. I peak my head into Beatrice’s room and watch the four-year old’s small frame rise and fall slowly.

“You’re right,” she says sighing, “but if she gets worse, I’m on the first flight out of here. I don’t care. You better fucking call me Colby, I swear to God—”

“I know, just go back to your meeting. I love you.” I say softly.

“I love you too, Colby. Call me.” Y/N hangs up her phone and I’m left with a sleeping Bea.

Bea hasn’t been feeling well for the past couple of days, and for a four-year-old, you can definitely tell. She’s done nothing but sit on the couch to take naps or watch tv. She’s a very active child, she takes after me that way, she’s almost always in the backyard climbing over shit, my little explorer. Ever since she got sick, Y/N has been wanting to cancel her trip. When she got pregnant with Bea, she pretty much put off her career.

Her channel has mostly become a family channel so she can balance work and home life. I know she misses doing her old content and making music. She’s been putting off meetings and collabs so she wouldn’t have to leave and I can do my own stuff. She was ready to go back last month. She planned meetings with her manager and some YouTube big wigs up in New York. So I pushed her to go and start getting her career back. I can handle staying with our daughter for a few days. If I need help, Sam and Kat live nearby.

I leave Beatrice’s door open and head out to the living room. Normally, I would take this time to clean up, but there isn’t much to do. Bea’s toys have been neatly put away since Saturday. The only toy she’s played with is some creepy ass doll that Jake bought her when she was firstborn. That thing gives me the creeps, it’s like a raggedy Anne doll on crack. I kept trying to hide it, but she would throw a fit. She’s sleeping with it now. She also took the blanket she was sleeping with on the couch with her.

I pull out my laptop and flop down on the couch. I opened it up to my email. I could edit some videos right now, but that’s too time-consuming. I don’t know when Bea will wake up and I want to be able to give her my full attention. It’s hard doing this as a single parent. I need to remember to kiss Y/N when she gets home for somehow dealing with Bea while she was sick and I was away on a Sam and Colby trip.

****

“I want to go home!” Bea cries from my lap.

Her fever got worse and her voice was nearly gone when she woke up from her nap. As promised, I called Y/N, who told me she would be home in about 6 hours. We’re sitting in one of the beds in the urgent care waiting for the results of the rapid strep test. We were going to be in the waiting room longer, but Bea threw up on the floor and I had to unleash my inner Karen.

I stroke Bea’s hair, trying to soothe her. This must be hard on her little body. I don’t think she’s been in this much pain in her entire life before. It must be confusing to her. She told me this morning that she had a headache, and I know for a fact she’s never had one of those before. I wish I could take all of her pain away and be sick instead.

“Daddy?” I hear Bea ask softly.

“Yes, princess?” I whisper back.

“I want mommy!” She starts to cry again.

“Shh, I know. Mommy is on her way now. I promise.” I readjust Bea so she can put her head on my shoulder. I pat her back and rub soft circles on her back.

“Mr. Brock?” A small nurse knocks on the door before poking her head in.

“You got the results back quickly,” I reply. Bea has stopped crying and is asleep now.

“Yeah, the lab isn’t too busy. The doctor wanted me to tell you that it is strep and to send you home with this prescription and packet about how to take care of Beatrice and you can go. If you want to ask him some questions, he can come in a few minutes. His number is on the packet just in case.” She hands me a stack of papers and I quickly look over them.

“Thank you. I’ll just take Bea and go now. I might call in about an hour, but thank you again.” I put the papers in Bea’s backpack and leave.

****

Bea hasn’t left my side since we left urgent care. I had to take her with me to both the grocery store and the pharmacy after we left because I couldn’t find anyone to watch her last minute. Well, I knew Kat would but she’s pregnant and I don’t want Bea to get her sick. When we got home, I gave her the antibiotics that she was prescribed and some soup. She took a nap on the couch while I did the laundry and clean up the messes I made while Y/N was away. When she woke up again, I gave her a popsicle.

Right now, Bea is cuddled next to me on my bed watching tv. It’s about 3 am but she woke up to go to the bathroom earlier and couldn’t go back to sleep. She fell asleep here earlier. Y/N and I didn’t put a tv in her room yet and I wanted to fall asleep in an actual bed. In the corner of the room is a humidifier helping her breathe.

“Mommy!” Bea says tiredly.

“Hi, baby, what are you two still doing up?” Y/N whispers coming into the room. I must have been dozing off because I didn’t hear her come into the house.

Y/N drops her bags on the floor and climbs into bed next to Bea. She hugs her and kisses me on the cheek.

“I would have picked you up from the airport? It was a nice surprise though.” I tell her, kissing her forehead.

“I thought Bea was asleep already. I didn’t want you to have to wake her up to get me. It’s fine though. But how has she been.” Y/N asks as she pulls the thermometer from the bedside table.

“She’s doing better. The antibiotics are helping, she played a little bit today. She’s been asking for you though.” I brush Bea’s hair out of her eyes, which are just like mine. She mostly looks like Y/N, except for her eyes.

“That’s good, and her temp is good too. Well, I’m glad you two were fine while I was away, I was worried. How have you been?” She asks. Bea is now cuddled on her mother’s chest, slowly falling asleep.

“I’m better now that you’re home,” I whisper, kissing Y/N again before going back to watching tv.

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