#the GASP. the dead silence afterwards as he processes what just happened…

[deiaiko]

#19.3 Unravel

It had been some time since Agni felt this nervous. Not even talking with Jinsung Ha recently had made him feel like this. He fiddled with the mask on his hand as he waited for Grace to come back. He had thought hard on how to deliver the news, but he knew that no matter how he phrased it, Grace would be upset. Velt nuzzled under his palm and Agni gave her a few pats, before deciding that she would be better inside her bowl in his lighthouse, just in case the shinsu acted up around Grace after he received the news.

Grace came back wearing the comfiest shirt and shorts Agni knew Grace liked to wear on lazy days. He joined him on the floor, and they ate dinner together. Agni always finished last, so while waiting for him to finish his meal, Grace told him about his day with Bam. Grace was intrigued by how much his way of thinking had changed, and how glad he was to be able to be by Bam's side when he was having a bad day. It reminded Agni of the hidden floor, when Grace faced his sworn enemy.

They left the used bowls on the coffee table and went to brush their teeth. Afterwards, they turned off the light and went upstairs to sit on their bed. Grace's curious gaze never left him, and Agni curled his feet nervously.

Grace was the one who broke the silence. "So…what is it?"

Agni's breath hitched. This was the part he dreaded most. "I talked with the crocodile earlier. Did you know that he could manipulate stone already?"

"Huh." Grace needed a few seconds to let the information sink in. "Didn't Rak learn it on the Hell train? How does he know it?"

"Turns out our crocodile also traveled back to the past like us. He found the young crocodile and taught him."

"What?!" Grace gasped, wide eyed. "That means our Rak is–!!"

"He's dead." Agni quickly snuffed out that hope. They had been in delusion for long enough; it was time that they faced the bitter truth. "He suffered a fatal injury from the explosion. He couldn't have lasted long without proper help." Agni omitted the actual cause for Rak's death, but still kept his words true. "I'm sorry."

"…Oh." Grace looked lost, just like Agni was. His lips parted a little, but they closed before any sound escaped.

Agni gently squeezed Grace's hand, encouraging and comforting as he let the silence stretch on, giving Grace some time to process the information.

"Agni…" Grace whispered, "do you think Hatz and Isu…?"

Agni bit his lip and avoided his gaze, as the nightmare of that day replayed in his mind. He witnessed Hatz get his arms ripped off when trying to protect him. He could still recall the clang of a sword hitting the floor, and Hatz's suppressed scream that gnawed deep at his guilt. He witnessed Isu get beheaded after being taken hostage, the memory of warm blood painting them both still vivid like it happened yesterday. 

Agni refused to acknowledge their possible deaths, because it felt like a nightmare that one day he could hopefully wake up from. He avoided the topic when Grace brought it up, so he wouldn't have to say it aloud and make it real. He had been so hard on himself, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed Grace and everyone else involved.

Agni knew this had to change if he wanted to live better, now that they had gotten a second chance. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat that had built up over the years and asked mostly to himself; "What are the odds of their survival?"

"There's always a chance–"

"Grace." Agni looked him straight in the eye. "They were already severely injured before the explosion hit."

Grace fell silent and went still.

Agni felt a pang of guilt upon witnessing Grace's reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Agni fiddled with his hands. He realized that he didn't know how much Grace knew of what happened. "My scar…do you know how I got it?"

"I…was told it was from the family heads' battle." Grace looked thoughtful. Agni knew he was trying to be careful with his words. "A stray attack?"

"It could have been worse." The memory of the scorching heat on his skin felt like it had only happened yesterday. He passed out right when he was about to heal Isu, and only found out later that he also lost sweetfish at that time. The days he spent recovering from the burn, to withstand the excruciating pain every second he was conscious, and finally coming to terms that it'd be a permanent scar, was one of the turning points that had changed him forever. Were Grace not there to care for him, he might have ended up destroying himself even more.

Agni hadn't realized he had his left hand clawing on his cheek until Grace pried his hand off and frowned, "You're doing it again."

"Maybe I should wear the mask…" Agni muttered to himself. After all, Grace gave it to him less so he could hide the scar but more to prevent him from unconsciously hurting himself. The only time he could safely take it off was when Grace was around.

Agni bit his lip nervously when Grace didn't reply. He no longer had the courage to look Grace in the eye that spoke so much concern, so he leaned close and rested his head on Grace's chest. "Rak, Isu, Hatz and Hwaryun were trying to get me out of that damned place. But we were caught while escaping, and…it was a bloodbath. I was…too occupied to react to the incoming heat. Rak shielded us from the explosion. And when I woke up…"

"They weren’t with you," Grace finished it for him after Agni trailed off a moment too long.

Agni nodded dazedly, "I've been telling myself that they're still alive, after a blow that could kill rankers. But…who am I kidding? I was lucky enough to survive with just this little–" Agni vaguely pointed to himself– "inconvenience."

Agni felt a hand gripping his arm, and he pulled away to see Grace looking at him with a pained expression. His eyes were glossy and his lips were pulled into a thin line. Trusting his instinct, Agni reached out to gently trace and cup Grace's cheek with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," Agni muttered. "I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner."

Agni silently witnessed tears that streamed down on his love's face. It was a bitter sight that Agni wished he'd never have to see again, that he had tried to avoid for so long by not telling him. He pulled Grace in and held him close to his chest, as if Agni was trying to gather his own crumbled heart back together.

Grace mumbled their late best friends' names as he held onto him tighter, shaking from each breath he took between sniffles.

Agni felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He remembered the years he spent climbing the tower together with his old team. Despite their banter being his source of headaches, Agni knew he too had come to acknowledge them as his cherished friends. Only when they were gone did Agni realize how much he'd miss having them around. Seeing the younger them didn't exactly close the gaping hole in his heart, but at least the emptiness was more filled.

Agni squeezed Grace tighter. "We have their younger selves with us now. We will protect them better this time."

Grace only nodded and sank further into his embrace. And Agni planted kisses on his hair, relishing the thought that after everything he had gone through, Grace was still a constant in his life. As long as he had him, everything would be okay.

When Grace started shaking again, Agni caressed his hair and hummed a comfort song they had known by heart. Still, it didn't make falling asleep any easier for Agni, especially not after admitting that his nightmare was very much real. However, as he had been through grief…this, too, would pass.

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☕ Buy me coffee ☕

#Whee we get to know some of their past. Specifically their turning point #I hope it flows nicely because i have rewritten this like 3 times now 😭😭😭 dialogues are just not my specialty #like how to make them reveal such information without making them come out of the blue #writing style aside. let's talk about why Agni behaves this way #I will save the details on the what and how for the prologue. but basically Agni had been through hell that he couldn't escape alone #Rak Hatz and Isu saved him (or attempted to). and Agni owed them for saving his life. thus the strong attachment that Khun doesn't have #also let me mention that Agni had trouble differentiating between hallucination and reality after the incident. So he was kind of in denial #maybe Agni had come to a conclusion that they might be dead months after that. but he was too afraid to admit it to Grace #because he thought it was partly his fault for being incompetent. and Grace would hate him for letting their friends die #not wanting to risk being left by Grace. he just put himself (and inevitably Grace too) in the illusion of truth #that there's still a chance their friends are still alive because they have no proof of their deaths #so when Agni was offered to go back to the past. he agreed to it. Already expecting that Rak Hatz Isu aren't the same ones that he looks fo #but it was as good as he could get to redeem himself. Plus they get to meet everyone else who they couldn't save #Anyway. I'm taking hiatus until April. In return I will answer if you have any questions whether it is written in the tags or sent via ask #see ya folks <3 we'll get more brothers and team bonding when I return #tower of god #tog #two sides of the same coin fic #my fic #my art #bam #25th bam #jue viole grace #khun #khun aguero agnis #khunbam #shibisu #ship leesoo #rak wraithraiser #hatz

[h3arts-4-broflovski]

HEATWAVE (Part 2)

TW’s before we start: Mentions of d3ath, mentions of su1cide, mentions of $h, mentions of an0rexia, very angsty, emo

If any of that triggers you, please don’t read. Also, If you haven’t read part 1, please do that before continuing the story. If part 1 would trigger you, don’t read, please.

 “No…nonononono this isn’t real this isn’t happening THIS ISN’T HAPPENING” Kyle sobs. Kenny grabs y/n’s hand and presses it to his face, silent. Butters is bawling hysterically. Tears are rolling down Craig’s face, which nobody has seen before. Tweek figured everything out, and presses himself to Craig, crying quietly. Stan can’t process what’s happening, and is just standing, frozen. Even Cartman, who is still trying to look “kewl” in front of the guys is on the verge of tears. Paramedics bust through the door to get to her. One is performing CPR whilst two others are trying to stop the bleeding. “This is my fault… this is all my fault..” Kyle mutters while pacing back and forth, pulling his hair. “It’s not your fault Kahl..” Cartman says, his voice cracking. “YES IT IS. If I would’ve told Kenny to go in when he saw her cutting herself, she wouldn’t be DEAD.” He says, breaking down. As they all sit there in silence, the only sounds being their cries, the paramedic is still trying to resuscitate y/n. “Please don’t go..” Kenny whispers, still holding her hand. Suddenly, as if she heard Kenny’s wish, she breathes in deep. Everybody gasps. Y/n’s breathing was slow, but there. The paramedics start to carry her to the ambulance, and the boys follow them outside. “Meet us at the hospital.” “Can’t we be in the ambulance?” “No. You can’t. I don’t want you kids to see anymore of this.” 

The boys practically run into the hospital, “WHERE IS Y/N?” They shout, panicked at the receptionist. “Oh. D’ya mean the girl who tried to kill herself? She’s in room 420.” “Hah. 420.” Cartman jokes as they step into the elevator. “Now is NOT the time for jokes, fatass.” Kyle replies. 

They stand in front of the door for a moment, and walk in. “You must be the boys that found her.” The doctor says. The boys nod in unison. “What are her stats?” Craig asks, monotone. “Well, she is extremely malnourished, and, well, on the verge of death. You boys are lucky to have found her when you did. If you had been any later, she wouldn’t have made it.”  The doctor’s eyes narrow, “how did you find her anyways?” “NGGGGGHHH. TOO MUCH PRESSURE.” Tweek exclaims. “Calm down, honey. It’s okay.” “NGGGHOW IS THIS OKAY??” “Just play with your fidget spinners, honey. It’ll all be alright. We can go sit in the waiting room and I’ll buy you a coffee, okay?” “GGHHOKAY” Craig holds Tweek’s back as they walk back towards the elevator. The others explain the whole situation to the doctor. 

After a while, they decide to stay the night in the hospital with y/n until she wakes up. They decide to sleep there, go to school, then return afterwards. They knew it would at least be a few days before she woke up, but they still wanted to be by her side. 

About 3 weeks after this whole ordeal, y/n shifts, her eyes fluttering open. Everyone was asleep except Kyle. He couldn’t sleep, he was still panged with guilt. Tweek was sitting on Craig’s lap with his head on Craig’s chest, Butters was using Kenny’s shoulder as a pillow and Kenny was using Butters’ head, Stan held Kyle’s hand as he slept, and Cartman was on the floor. Kyle looked up and saw y/n look around. “SHE’S AWAKE!” Kyle exclaims as he jumps up from his chair and turns the light on. The boys practically jumped from their seats and ran to y/n’s bed. “Where am I?” Y/n asks. “Oh my god…” Kenny says breathlessly. Kyle slaps y/n across the face. “Owie..” “DON’T EVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN.” He shouts, tears forming in his eyes. “I won’t.” Y/n sits up surprisingly easily and is bombarded by all of the boys hugging her at once. “I love you guys.” “Oh don’t say that I’m gonna cry..” Stan says while everyone else chuckles. 

A few days later, y/n has miraculously made a full recovery and returns to school. The group of boys refuse to leave her side. They even follow her to the bathroom. They watch her eat and take turns staying the night at her house with her. Whenever y/n feels like hurting herself again, she remembers seeing the sadness on her friends’ faces and talks to either Mr.Mackey or one of the guys about it. She spends a lot of time in Mr.Mackey’s office now, but the boys still insist on coming in with her. Y/n’s scars are now faded and she has fully recovered from an0rexia. Her relationships with her friends are better than ever now, they don’t ever talk about the incident, (except for Cartman, who still makes jokes about the room number). They are all living their happy little lives together.

#south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #butters stotch #craig tucker #tweek tweak #south park fanfiction #south park angst

[bigboobyhalo]

this is genuinely the funniest DSMP clip. the comedic timing is impeccable

#dreamsmp #dsmp #foolish gamers #foolishg #foolish #bad #it’s the way it happens while he’s alt tabbed so we don’t even see bad do it #the way he tabs back in and the only things that change #are bad’s joining and leaving messages and the shulker disappearing #the way it takes him a solid 3 seconds to actually notice #the GASP. the dead silence afterwards as he processes what just happened… #this is a work of fucking ART

[wanda-maximoff-enthusiast]

Hi I saw you wrote for Encanto can I get a thing were Bruno had a child that had a gift were they can do art and there art comes alive?

Alright! Let's go!

~Never Again~

Bruno Madrigal x child!gn!reader

(this isn't a ship. please don't take it that way.)

Summary: Bruno Madrigal left his family, and his eight-year-old child, after seeing Mirabel's vision. What happens when he comes back and sees his child all grown up, fully capable and able to control their gift?

Warnings: A bit sad, a bit of angst but it's honestly just quite cute stuff.

*please read the note at the bottom it's quite important*

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Your world came crashing down the day your father left you. He had not said anything to anyone, let alone you, and it broke your heart completely. How could he be so selfish?

Luckily for you, your Tía Pepa had been kind enough to raise you as her own, and you had formed a strong bond with the woman. Along with Julieta's help, she had taught you to control your gift, and what a wonderful gift it was!

Anything you drew, anything at all, came to life before your very eyes. It mesmerised you, until your Abuela began using your abilities to her own advantages.

You could've forgotten about your father easily, he had left you as an infant on your own, but there was just something in the back of your mind nagging you to not let go of the few fond memories you had of him.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was watching your growth every day through the walls.

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Casita was in ruins, and so was La Familia Madrigal.

Mirabel was missing, and so, it seemed, was all of the hope in the Encanto. Everybody searched for her, day and night, but she was simply unable to be found. Eventually, half of the town just presumed her to be dead and moved on.

You mourned the loss of your dearest cousin. The two of you always got along well, due to the fact that you were both sort of the family outcasts. After all, Mirabel had no gift and you were the child of the most hated Madrigal of all.

You suddenly noticed how long Abuela had been gone, and where she was, and that's when you heard bells ringing and people yelling.

'She's back!'

'Who's back?'

'Mirabel Madrigal! She's back!'

A small sigh of relief escaped you as you rushed to her and wrapped your arms around her.

'Mirabel!' You exclaimed, holding on to her even tighter.

'I was so worried! We all were!'

She did not reply. She simply nodded and held onto you tighter, before suddenly pulling away.

'(Y/N), I've got to warn you of something really quick.'

'Yeah?'

'Mirabel, can I talk to them?'

A new voice joined in the conversation, one so familiar yet you didn't know who it was. And that's when you looked over Mirabel's shoulder, and came face-to-face with your father.

'Dad…' You whispered, stepping closer to him cautiously, as if you were trying to make sure he was real.

'Hey, kid, c'mere.'

You smiled at him, and he smiled back, before your fist collided with his nose.

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'What were you thinking? Just leaving me alone with no warning?'

'Listen (Y/N), I'm-'

'You're sorry? Really? It's way too late for sappy apologies.'

'I did it to protect you.'

'And yet you only hurt me in the process.'

Furious tears dripping down your cheeks, fists clenched by your sides, watching as Bruno dabbed at his bleeding nose with a tissue. He stopped for a moment.

'Your 11th birthday.'

'What is that supposed to-'

'You threw a slice of cake at Camilo and you started a food fight.'

You gasped, eyes widening in shock.

'How do you know that-'

'Your 16th birthday. You drew yourself sixteen cupcakes and at them all by yourself. You knew you would get sick afterwards, and you did, but you didn't care.'

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

'I would never leave you without a purpose, mariposa. I was there the whole time, in the walls. I watched you grow, I watched you learn.'

'Dad?' You asked, walking up to him to look him in the eyes.

'Yes, (Y/N)?'

You pulled him into a gentle hug. 'Never leave again.'

He smiled, eyes glistening with tears. 'Never again, mi mariposa.'

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I'm sorry this was so short, I had no idea what else to add. There've been some pretty bad things happening in my life atm but I tried to get this story up ASAP. I might be taking a break soon if anything gets any worse, but I will keep you updated. :)

#encanto x reader #encanto #encanto imagines #bruno madrigal #encanto bruno #tío bruno #we dont talk about bruno #bruno headcanons

[nctsjiho]

2 AM Healing [Part 2 of ‘2 PM Suffering’]

Click here for Part 1

warnings: explicit language, consumption of alcohol and medication, suggested attempted suicide (overdosing on pills and alcohol), anxiety

era: April 2021

❀ Things seem to take a big turn after Taeyong and Doyoung go check up on JiHo

“Wah~~ I can’t wait to get in my bed.” Haechan sighed dramatically as the 4 boys from the 5th floor were waiting on Taeyong to open the door.

The shoot had dragged on for a while, along with some other schedules and now it was a little after 2 at night. Johnny and Haechan had been whining about how tired they were and couldn’t wait to sleep. “At least take a shower first Haechan, you stink.” The older of the two snickered, earning a shocked expression from the smaller boy. “Hey! I don’t-”

“It’s past midnight and we have neighbours. Be quiet already.” Doyoung sounded annoyed which had the two boys shut up quickly. “And you, why are you taking so long.” Doyoung rolled his eyes at the leader who had yet to open the door. Taeyong rolled his eyes as well at the attitude of Doyoung and before he could say anything else, Taeyong pushed the door open.

Meanwhile, inside the dorm, JiHo had curled up into Xiaojun’s side. She had been sleeping for close to 12 hours straight now, the severity of her exhaustion very clear to Xiaojun. The only time JiHo had woken up, was when Xiaojun had gotten up to clean up the food he dropped when first entering her room. He quickly cleaned and went to the bathroom before joining a whiny JiHo back in her bed. He had sung a few more songs for her and decided to go to sleep as well after she had comfortably slotted her body into his side.

Completely forgetting that he had to send updates to Doyoung, Taeyong, or at least Kun about JiHo - partly because his phone was out of battery and otherwise because he physically couldn’t move because of JiHo’s deadly grip on him - he drifted off into his own dream world and hadn’t woken up since.

As the residents of the dorm arrived the first place Doyoung went to was JiHo’s room. His hand had barely made contact with the door handle when Taeyong stopped him from entering. “Is this a good idea? JiHo’s probably sleeping at this time.” Doyoung scoffed at the comment. “We haven’t heard from her since we left, for all we know she’s dead in there and you’re not even going to check.” “Kun said Xiaojun-” “Well Xiaojun hasn’t picked up his fucking phone once!”

The leader hadn’t seen Doyoung this mad before. He knew he was only worried about JiHo, so he could excuse his anger completely. Yet despite that, Taeyong was still taken aback by the amount of poison was spilling from the black-haired man’s lips. “Okay, let’s check.”

Doyoung softly pushed the door open, such a contrast to his earlier tense body language. Upon opening the door the light which came from the hallway illuminated the room, revealing how messy it was.

JiHo wasn’t the tidiest member when it came to her own room, but the visual Doyoung and Taeyong were met with was quite shocking. Pillows and blankets seemed to be thrown off the bed and even to the other side of the room. But among all the mess a certain few items had caught Doyoung’s eye.

Rather confused as to why Doyoung wasn’t commenting on Xiaojun and JiHo comfortably - a bit too comfortable to Taeyong’s liking - sleeping on her bed, Taeyong eyed his dorm mate closely. He watched as Doyoung reached out to a small white container, one he wasn’t familiar with.

Suddenly Doyoung let out a chuckle. Not a friendly-sounding one though. Not friendly at all. “What’s this?!” He suddenly yelled which startled not only Taeyong but also the two sleeping friends. Xiaojun jumped up from beside JiHo as he saw the two older members watching them.

“Doyoung hyung-” “Pills and alcohol?” He sighed in disbelief. JiHo was still laying down in bed, her eyes squinted as she tried not to strain them. “Lim JiHo? Please tell me you didn’t drink.” When JiHo only fell back down in her spot from her previous hoisted up position Doyoung already knew the answer.

He turned to Xiaojun, who was wide-eyed, seemingly terrified about the way he was woken up. “You know how dangerous this is?” Doyoung shook the pill bottle in front of the younger boy’s eyes. “Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?! If you found JiHo drinking and taking pills you should’ve taken her to the hospital!” “I told him I was fine.” The girl mumbled from where she had buried her face into her pillow. “Of course you would tell him that!”

“Or did you give these to her? JiHo normally doesn’t drink or take medication. So did you?” Xiaojun frantically shook his head. He’d never do such a thing and the fact his hyung thought he would, made him feel cornered, not being able to defend himself.

Doyoung’s chest heaved and so many thoughts crossed his mind. “Let’s calm down for a bit okay?” Taeyong carefully took a step closer to the two boys and placed a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “Calm down? This kid didn’t do anything after knowing JiHo mixed alcohol and pills and afterwards climbed into bed with her!” “That’s enough!” Johnny yelled from the doorway. “I’m just stating the facts!” “GET OUT!” A higher-pitched yell resonated through the room, followed by a few painful coughs.

All eyes were on JiHo’s heaving figure, as the boys were afraid to say or do anything. Everyone but one. “JiHo-” “Doyoung can you shut up for one goddamn second?!” JiHo yelled, sounding so desperate. “I’m just trying to help.” “You’re not only worsening my headache, but you are also chewing out my friend who has been taking care of me while I was alone. Xiaojun did nothing wrong, so let him be.”

A few seconds of silence followed before Doyoung approached his younger friend. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but he shouldn’t have let you sit here after taking those pills and drinking. You know how bad this could’ve ended-” “For God’s sake, oppa you don’t get it. You weren’t here, so you don’t know what happened.” She groaned in defeat. Doyoung’s stubbornness wasn’t helping her growing headache, the one she had been able to forget due to her hours of sleep.

“I don’t have to be here to know that mixing these is bad!” “Can you stop?” “Do you want to die?” “YES!” JiHo stood up from her position, staring directly into Doyoung’s eyes with watery eyes. Everyone in the room collectively gasped at the youngest’s answer. Haechan who had joined after hearing the commotion felt his eyes fill with tears as well.

JiHo gulped as she felt the crop in her throat forming and blocking her airways. The two best friends just stared into each other’s eyes not knowing what to say. Doyoung was still processing what had just been said and JiHo was going over all the ways to explain herself, but she couldn’t find the right words.

“Is that why you took these?” Taeyong reached out to grab the bottle from Doyoung’s grip. His question caused the girl to break eye contact with Doyoung and she immediately shook her head. “No. I never thought- That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know this was alcohol. I didn’t mean it.” Her voice trailed off.

“How could you say something like that?” Doyoung’s voice was dangerously low and it scared JiHo. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t.” Doyoung just shook his head in disbelief before facing Xiaojun. In just a split second he had grabbed onto the collar of Xiaojun’s shirt and pushed him against the wall.

“Why didn’t you do anything?!” Doyoung’s voice quivered, tears already threatening to fall. “Why didn’t you take her to a hospital?” Doyoung lifted his right hand, balled into a fist. At the sight, the two older members rushed towards him. Johnny and Taeyong pulled back the yelling man, preventing him from potentially hurting Xiaojun. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ANYONE?!” Doyoung had completely lost it. Tears streamed down his face as he felt the great amount of guilt take over him. If only he had been there with JiHo instead of Xiaojun, that’s what he thought.

All the members stood there wordlessly as Doyoung continued to sob. Haechan crying silently in the doorway and the other members being completely lost.

Not being able to take it anymore, knowing that her members were making assumptions in their heads about why she took those pills, JiHo decided to explain the whole situation. From why she took the pills and drank the alcoholic beverage, to how Xiaojun had ended up sleeping next to her and why he hadn’t messaged anyone.

“The alcohol helped my anxiety and the pills helped my headache for a split second before it came back worse. I didn’t take many, I’m fine.” “How can tell us you’re fine when you’re suffering like this. Alone.” Doyoung stood up from where he fell to his knees earlier. The sobbing had stopped, but he was still very emotional. “Because I didn’t want to worry you guys, I’m already being a big inconvenience.” The girl explained sadly.

“You’re not an inconvenience to us JiHo.” Johnny said. JiHo just sighed, thinking of how the boys weren’t allowed to talk to her publicly, how they had to be careful around her afraid to ask something she couldn’t talk about, how they always worried about her even if she told them they shouldn’t. No matter what the boys said, JiHo felt like such a burden these past weeks.

JiHo fell back down into her bed and pulled her knees to her chest. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to die. That wasn’t why I took the pills. I haven’t slept in days because of these headaches and I was desperate to get some sleep. I didn’t even know that juice was alcoholic, but it helped me calm down. It was the first time in days I started to feel a bit more relaxed. It’s not that I want to die. It’s just that, some days, I rather feel nothing than feel the shitty way I’m feeling almost daily.”

Haechan who had been standing in the same spot this entire time walked up to JiHo and sat down next to her, pulling her into his side. “You should’ve just told us.” He watched as his tears fell onto JiHo’s shoulder and got absorbed by her grey tee.

“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.” Taeyong had grabbed her hand and let his thumb draw random patterns on the back of her hand. JiHo nodded, wordlessly telling him she understood. 

Doyoung cleared his throat causing everyone to look at him. “I’m sorry Xiaojun. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were only taking care of JiHo.” “Hyung, it’s okay.” Xiaojun directly said, but Doyoung shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. I acted and said things before I thought and I didn’t even hear you guys out. I’m also sorry towards you JiHo.” JiHo just nodded in acceptance of the apology.

He then settled down on the bed next to JiHo. “Please stop keeping things like this to yourself. I know you might not like talking to us about it and I know with the way I acted right now, that you might never want to talk to me about these kinds of things first. But if you’re ever suffering like this, you can talk to any one of the boys okay? So if you don’t want to talk to me.” Doyoung turned to face Xiaojun. “ I completely trust Xiaojun to listen to you and be able to take care of you.” Xiaojun nodded firmly which caused JiHo to smile.

As JiHo felt the love of her members intensify, she let herself melt into Haechan’s embrace, feeling her headache subside until it was almost gone. Johnny pulled Xiaojun in a side hug to comfort him after all the commotion that went on. Suddenly JiHo noticed something in the doorway. A head of hair seemingly floating from one side of the door. “Mark?”

At the mention of his name Mark popped his head from behind the wall, the boy wide-eyed. “What are you?” “Haechan messaged us saying Doyoung and Xiaojun were fighting.” Yuta explained as he unexpectedly walked into the room. Doyoung and Taeyong both glared at Haechan, disappointed that he felt the need to make the other members worry. “I’m sorry, I panicked.” The boy pouted which caused the older two to soften.

After Yuta had walked in, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeil and Jaehyun followed. “How long have you guys been out there?” JiHo asked worried, hoping they hadn’t picked up on everything that happened. “A few minutes.” Jungwoo smiled sadly and the girl sighed. “Listen, Doyoung is right. You have 23 guys ready to hear you out. Don’t be afraid to talk to us.” Taeil sat down on the bed. JiHo nodded and looked around the room meeting all the boys’ eyes and seeing the amount of love and care in them. “Thank you guys.”

“Group hug!” Haechan yelled to which both Yuta and Jungwoo repeated the words and suddenly JiHo was suffocating because of the 10 guys who had thrown themselves on top of her. Luckily her bed was just a thick mattress on the floor or otherwise it had broken for sure.

And even though she could barely breathe beneath the pressure of 10 bodies on top of her, she basked in the love she was receiving and felt all her stress and anxiety leave her body for once. For once she knew for certain that she was going to have fewer sleepless nights ahead of her.

---

Side note: I hyped myself up this morning to write a good part 2 only for it to end up like this? jk, I love the story and the little fluff at the end, I just imagined it to pan out way differently (more angsty). It’s definitely not the most exciting thing to read but if you’ve made it this far, first of all thank you <3 and secondly I think this just gives closure to part 1.

Thx to anon for suggesting this though and if there is anything that has been mentioned before that you want to get some extra information on or just things/scenarios you want to read, let me know! My inbox is open so feel free to send me anything <3

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct angst #wayv angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct doyoung imagines #nct doyoung angst #doyoung angst #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun angst #nct fluff #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

[the8gates]

Short Drabble Pt. 2

Another angsty vent. Kinda alternate to how this reunion went in the original Shadow Series. Sorry I’m just kinda burnt out and trying to revive my desire to write by doing these little scenes. Also just kinda beating the emotional shit out of Kakashi because he’s pretty. 

Atsuko had seen Kakashi cry three times over the course of the five years they’d spent together. 

Once after she’d woken him up from a horrifying nightmare. He’d been muttering in his sleep for thirty minutes, his face scrunching up every so often. She’d only decided to intervene when she felt the static electricity begin to build in their bed. His barely coherent noises of distress had turned into pained grunts and rapid breathing. When she’d shook him awake, he’d shot straight up with a gasp, only to collapse into a mess of panicked tears when he realized where he was. After he’d calmed down, he explained the dream to her in a shaky voice. Though, it was more like a memory than a nightmare. 

The second time, she’d caught him tearing up at the end of a book. It was the last one in a series he’d been following for several years. There hadn’t been a need to discuss it, because she understood how stories could grip the heart and refuse to let go. Atsuko had simply rubbed his back for a moment, pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and then left him alone so he could feel the impact in private. 

The third instance was today. 

She had returned home from her month long search for Sasuke empty handed. Every lead had been a dead end. Every path led to nowhere. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t find Sasuke and, after nearly sustaining a life threatening injury in an attempt to push herself past her own limits, she’d decided it would be best to return home. At least to regain her strength. After a week or so of bed rest, she could continue her search. 

“I told you to leave.”

Atsuko said, standing in the doorway to her living room with her arms folded under her chest. She was exhausted. After spending hours walking back to the village, she’d been subjected to a lengthy debriefing with Lady Tsunade. Her spirit was crushed. Her body was on the verge of collapse. Her son was still missing and her heart was nothing more than a blackhole in her chest. The absence of feeling. Kakashi on the other hand seemed perfectly relaxed. He was reclined on the couch, one gangly leg folded over the other. Apparently, he hadn’t heard her come in, because as soon as she spoke, he jerked his head up from the book in his lap and moved to stand at the speed of light. 

“Ah, Atsuko… I heard that you’d come back but I figured that you’d be tied up with Tsunade for a-“

“Why are you still here?”

She asked, cutting him off and not caring much to hear his thought process. He was still living in her house, yet he hadn’t even bothered to come greet her when she’d returned. Not that she wanted him to. Even looking at him in this moment made her stomach churn. 

“I wanted to… to talk to you about what happened. And apologize for how I handled Sasuke.”

Kakashi said once he understood that she was not interested in playing catch up. A silence fell afterwards and she could only stare at him in un-phased disinterest. There was nothing to talk about. No apologies from him could fix what he’d done. 

“You didn’t pack any of your stuff, did you?”

She sighed, turning away from him to continue through the house and back towards their bedroom. When she opened the door, the sound of Kakashi’s footsteps following down the hallway behind her, she was greeted with the scene she’d been expecting. Not a single one of Kakashi’s items were moved from the spot they’d been left in. His alarm clock still sat on the end table on his side of the bed. His Jonin vest was draped over the small chair in front of her vanity. His books still lined the small shelf under the window and several other little personal affects were scattered around the room. 

“Fucks sake, Kakashi.”

Atsuko huffed, pushing into the room with a one track mind. All she could focus on was getting him the hell out so she could wallow in private. And so she didn’t have to be reminded of both of their failures over and over again. Kakashi hadn’t tried to stop Sasuke from leaving, but Atsuko should have never brought him home in the first place. 

“Atsuko, wait, c’mon… Let’s just talk about this.”

Kakashi said as he followed behind her. She grabbed a tote from under the bed, rising up just to dump the odds and ends contents on the floor with a loud clatter. Once it was situated on the bed, she began tossing his items into the storage container. 

“There is nothing to talk about.”

She responded, yanking the plug for his alarm clock out of the socket and wrapping the cord around the plastic box haphazardly before tossing it into the tote. Kakashi reached in immediately afterward, grabbing the clock and effectively stalling her process. Atsuko finally jerked her head up to meet his gaze, fury building in a pool of lava behind her eyes, trickling through her sinuses and down the back of her throat. However, her fiancé looked at her with pleading patience, his silver eyebrow pulled down to show the pain in his dark eye. 

“Please. Hear me out. I know… everything you said before you left was right. I was projecting my own issues onto Sasuke. I know that I agreed to be just as responsible for him as you were when I moved in here. I… I’ve been doing a terrible job. And I am so sorry. More than I could ever even say but… I know you’re going to go looking for him again. When you’re ready, I want to help.”

Kakashi said, reaching forward to grip her wrist in the process as he tried to make her physically feel his dedication. His regret. It wasn’t necessary. She could always feel what he was feeling. And yet… 

“No.”

Atsuko answered, slipping her wrist from his grasp to continue gathering his things. He couldn’t fix everything with an apology and an offer to help. If it weren’t for his actions and selfishness, they wouldn’t even be in this position. This wasn’t some petty argument about chores or money. What he had done had caused her to lose her son. There was no coming back from that. 

“Okay… I understand that you’re still upset, and if you don’t want me to come with you, then I won’t. But, seriously, Atsuko. We’re engaged. We’ve been together for five years. Are you really prepared to throw all of that away over-.”

Kakashi was prattling on behind her, every word grating on a nerve she didn’t know existed. She was content to ignore him. Give him one word answers and shorten this interaction as much as possible. Until that last sentence. 

“Over what Kakashi? I thought you said you understood? That you accepted what I said as the truth? But now, here you are, trying to minimize the situation again!”

Atsuko snapped, spinning quickly on her heel to face him. Kakashi’s eye widened in panic, his hands coming up to wave in front of him. 

“No, no! That’s not at all what I mea-“

“And to answer your question, yes. I am prepared to ‘throw all of it away’ as you put it. I can hardly look at you. Let alone stomach that idea of crawling into bed with you at night.”

She hissed, reeling forward to crowd his personal space, using her fingertips to push against his chest. 

“Pack. Your. Shit. And get the fuck out.”

She finished, moving to march past him and back towards the living room so she wouldn’t have to look at his pathetic expression anymore. But his hand flew out before she could leave the room, fingers wrapping around her forearm. 

“Atsuko. Please don’t do this. I love you. You know that. I love you so much and I… this past month has been hell. Not knowing where you are… sleeping alone. Everything is so much harder when you’re not here and I-I can’t do this without you.”

Kakashi begged, his voice cracking as he struggled to say everything he felt. For the first time in a month, her resolve faltered slightly. She couldn’t bare to look at him, but she knew his eyes were brimming with tears. Atsuko sunk her teeth into the meat of her cheek, focusing on the corner of the doorframe and the wall of the hallway beyond. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. When I gave you that ring, don’t think that I took that lightly. You see me for me… and I know you as well. I know you’re hurting and I am so sorry if I hand in that but-“

Kakashi cut himself off this time, moving to stand in front of her and grip her chin between his lithe fingers. The mask he normally wore and the headband he used to cover his Sharingan had been absent from the moment she came home, but he’d kept his left eye closed. Now, however, he was peering into her soul with his full gaze. The bright neon red of the Sharingan proving his seriousness. There were, indeed, tears gathering against his lash line. He always looked so scared when he cried… 

“But I want to do everything I can to make this right. I can’t lose you. Not after you’ve given me so much. And I feel like… like I’ve been supportive of you as well. My failings concerning Sasuke… I will never be able to apologize enough for. But just give me a chance to show you how sorry I am. To fix this. Please.”

He finished, leaning closer with every few words until he was close enough to brush their noses together. His eyes grew tired, calmer, the nearer he drew to her, and Atsuko could only stand and stare. It felt like her throat was swelling shut, burning with the need to let out a broken sob at his words. She was still so angry with him… but spending the past month alone had left her yearning for comfort. After relying on herself for so long and getting nowhere, she was desperate for some support. Some help. 

Kakashi closed the distance, pressing his soft lips against her own in a last ditch effort to keep her compliant. Atsuko winced at the action, scrunching her eyes shut and letting out a pained whimper at the familiar feeling. Muscle memory brought her arms up to loop around his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the silky hair at the base of his skull. Kakashi reached forward as well, wrapping his arms around her waist to tug her closer. God, no matter how much time they spent apart or how angry she was with him, these kisses always felt the same. They were torturous and slow, causing her whole body to react and her jaw to ache with tension. She couldn’t get close enough to him, their bodies were in the way. Even a simple kiss could drive her insane, being too much and not enough all at the same time. 

When he pulled away, their lips separating with a soft pop, Atsuko slowly opened her eyes. He was standing in front of her, his fingers gently massaging her waist with an unsure smile on his face, patiently awaiting her response. Atsuko had a passing thought. One that caused her muscles to tense and the hair on the back of her neck to stand at attention. He knew her, better than she knew herself at times. And, because of that, he knew how physical her love was. How she struggled to produce the right words at time and resorted to stripping him naked to show him how she felt… It would be easy for him to use that against her. To kiss her in such a way that she couldn’t deny him. That singular thought caused her to release her grip on him, her gaze directing towards the floor so she wouldn’t have to see his face when she said this. 

“If you need more boxes, I think there are some in the hall closet.”

Atsuko whispered, feeling his arms go lax around her midsection as she sidestepped to leave the bedroom. 

#atsuko #atsuko kamiyama #kakashi #kakashi hatake #atsukashi #the shadow series #kakashi angst #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x reader #kakashi x oc

[kuryoomi]

sex before lysol (kuroo x reader)

➸  genre: smut + fluff

➸  pairing: kuroo x reader

➸  word count: 2.5k

a/n: anon requested a secret manager relationship au, but i decided to take it a step further !! also, consider this smut fic my apology for not publishing in monthsㅡ aha. okay, bye and enjoy !!

➸  summary: the team couldn’t care less whether or not you dated their volleyball captain. the only problem is, the storage room that smells like it’s been fucked in.

one year.

it had been approximately one year since you became nekoma’s volleyball team manager.

and five months since you’ve started dating kuroo tetsurou.

when word got out that you were in a secret relationship with nekoma’s volleyball captain, nobody was surprised. in fact, everyone had expected it to happen eventually.

“it was kind of obvious.” kenma had bluntly stated while focusing on his nintendo switch.

“we could see the way you two stared at each other during practice.” yaku added, playful disgust showing up on his face, “all lovey dovey.”

“not to mention how kuroo-san acted when i hugged (y/n).” lev stated, shaking his head with arms crossed, “i thought i was dead afterwards for sure.”

you nervously laughed at their comments, fingers fidgeting together, “so, you guys don’t mind?” even though you knew they wouldn’t judge, you couldn’t help but be anxious of their reply.

“of course they don’t mind!” kuroo scoffed before pulling you closer to him by the waist, “who i date is none of their concern.” he leaned his head down to place a kiss against your forehead, easing your nerves.

kai laughed before nodding his head, “don’t be so apologetic, (y/n). we wouldn’t want kuroo to date anyone else! you’re the only one who can keep him under control, after all. well, besides kenma.”

kenma glanced up from his game screen, fingers still moving on the controls (god knows how), “that is true.”

yaku gave you a thumbs up, “just don’t get all lovey dovey during practice. i don’t know how much my stomach can handle it.” he shuddered.

“of course!” you giggled at yaku’s comment and beamed brightly, thankful for the support from your friends, “i definitely won’t mix in relationship with my job!”

ㅡ

well.

that’s what you had said before.

“tetsu..” was the first thing you muttered as his large hands found their way around your waist, enclosing your body with a back hug.

“yes, baby?” his reply whispered into your ear, automatically sending butterflies through your stomach in a rushed manner.

baby was such a simple, yet powerful nickname.

with the volleyball still tightly grasped in your hands, you inhaled deeply before continuing your sentence, “could you please go out there and help the others clean up? we have a chemistry test tomorrow, and i would like to go home to study as soon as possible.”

ignoring your pleas, your boyfriend hummed quietly while his slender fingers crept up under your chin, grabbing your face gently towards his direction. your eyes met with each other’s and you could see a hint of endearing lust resonating in his dark orbs. warmth gradually crept up on your face before you shook your head.

kuroo chuckled and you internally cursed at yourself for almost being distracted by his laugh.

it was safe to say that he knew you weren’t particularly fond of displaying physical affection, but that didn’t stop him. he didn’t care.

teasing you was all part of the fun in this relationship.

“why?” his warm breath tickled against your skin as small kisses trailed down your cheek, past your neck, and onto your collarbone, “i’d rather spend time in here with you.” 

you shook her head, “because tetsu, you’re the captain. you have responsibilities. andㅡ ah!”

while you were talking, his hands had slipped themselves past your shirt and onto your skin, his fingers gently caressing your stomach before sliding up to tease your breasts through your bra. 

“responsibilities?” an eyebrow quirked up while his voice muttered against your collarbone, “i don’t feel like taking responsibility of anything except you right now.” 

his finger were cold against your bare skin and your body was close enough for him to breathe on your collarbone. needless to say, you were pressed up against him and your heart was pounding like crazy.

“mm, your heart’s beating pretty fast,” another chuckle escaped his lips and you shook your head before playfully jabbing his stomach with your elbow. no matter how much he made your knees wobble, you weren’t giving in right now.

no way.

“tetsu.. the faster we clean up, the faster we’ll be able to go back home..” swiftly, you turned around so that your chest pressed up against his. your eyes were round at this point, an almost pleading look taking over your face, “please?”

kuroo inhaled sharply. 

why did you have to be so cute?

“you’re adorable, aren’t you?” he mumbled in ear one last time before clashing his lips onto yours, hungrily. startled by the sudden kiss, your hands dropped the volleyball that you were once holding and a small moan escaped your lips. you could feel his body press harder against yours, backing you up against the wall behind you.

you knew exactly where this was heading. 

“b-babe. everyone’s still outside!” you panted in between the kiss, hopeful that’d he’d cease his movements.

but it didn’t stop him.

“they’re too busy fooling around, (y/n).” he breathed into your ear, leaving shivers down your spine while his hot breath left you longing for more, “just be a good girl for me, will you?”

his lips crashed into you hungrily once more. you could feel his hand snaking around your body, feeling your every curve. one hand entangled around your hair and you gasped for breath. kuroo took advantage of this and snaked his tongue inside your mouth, claiming your lips to be his. he explored every inch of your mouth, not leaving a centimeter go by unnoticed.

you felt saliva drip down your lips and down your chin as he pulled away. a strand of saliva connected both of your lips together. no matter how many times the two of you had made-out, it always left you by surprise on how skilled he was with his tongue.

before you had time to process anything, his fingers trailed down your body gently. you gasped as a hand groped your left breast, massaging it roughly as if claiming what was his. your shirt was pulled up swiftly, making you bite only the fabric so he could clearly see your body. he unhooked your bra, leaving your upper body completely exposed and your face in heat. he groped you with his fingers- his tongue. he sucked on both your stiff buds, savoring your taste. you trembled beneath him. 

this made him chuckle.

moving on from your breasts, you felt his hand lifting one of your legs upwards to wrap around his waist, exposing the area between your legs even more.

“stay like this, babe.” kuroo smirked, fingers trailing downwards to your lower regions. one hand was placed on your chin, pulling your face up to distract you with a heated kiss as the other slowly undid your zipper-- pulling off your pants to only expose your panties. 

you gasped, only making entrance for his tongue once more. he moved his fingers up and down your clothed nether region, slipping his hand into your panties. you squirmed with each caressing touch he gave you. kuroo outlined your soaking entrance with his index finger, teasing your most sensitive area in your most vulnerable state. 

“you’re already this wet, (y/n)..” he whispered in an amused tone and looked down before licking his lips. slowly, he inserted two fingers inside you, stirring up your insides. widening your eyes, you tightly gripped onto his shoulder to keep your balance from failing. 

with both fingers moving rapidly inside you, he began to skillfully massage your clitoris with his thumb and it took everything inside you to not scream out in pleasure. feeling his fingers pump inside you, you moaned while digging your fingers deeper into his shoulder, your head spinning in pleasure.

you could feel his smirk widen at the way you reacted for him. after a few more thrusts, he ceased his movements completely, yet still keeping his digits inside you.

“t-tetsu!” you panted eagerly, “keep moving your fingers!”

he hummed softly, “are my fingers all you want?” his thumb pressed harder onto your clit, making you flinch.

“demanding as always, aren’t you?”

“ah!” looking up, your eyes met his and you gave him a desperate look, “you know i want more.."

"so?"

"give me more, testu."

in less than a second, kuroo forcefully turned you around so that your chest pressed against the storage wall. yelping softly, you quivered as he yanked both your pants and undergarment down to your ankles, exposing your bare skin to him. he cupped your ass with a hand, watching you struggle to accommodate the position.

both your hands were placed against the wall and your legs were parted just the slightest bit to display your drenched hole. kuroo inhaled sharply at this scene as his hand worked quickly to pull down his volleyball shorts and boxers, uncovering the bulge that had been bothering him for minutes. spitting into his left hand, he grasped his length and gave it a few pumps in preparation. his eyes never left your body, his eyes tracing every curve you had.

you glanced behind, confused by the silence and lack of movement, “babe?”

instantly, a hand wrapped itself around your eyes, depriving your sense of vision in a heartbeat, “h-huh?”

“don’t worry ‘bout it.” you could feel something jab harshly against your hole. 

you felt his hand caressing your inner thighs, making you sigh in content before violently pushing further apart. you were completely vulnerable to his touch, and he liked that.

no, he loved that.

your eyelashes fluttered in anticipation as he teased you for the last time by rubbing his tip against your swollen area. his precum oozed around his tip, the transparent liquid dripping down from the head. you squealed as he pressed the end of his shaft over your wet, sensitive folds. it wasn’t long before your cunt eagerly swallowed something thick and big.

“ah!” your back arched automatically in response to his erection as he rammed the rest of his length inside you. balls deep, he stays still to feel your walls pulse around him as you struggled to get used to his size. a loud moan escaped your lips as you felt his warm body hover closer to your body, his thrusts gradually increasing in tempo.

“fuck, (y/n).” he groaned while thrusting into your body deeper and deeper each second, “you’re tighter than usual.” you could hear his cheeky smile in the tone of his voice.

“s-shut up!” your head tilted upwards when he hit a certain spot, making you choke back the scream building up inside your throat. kuroo noticed this and continue to jam ruthlessly into the same spot repeatedly.

“oh?” he panted in amusement before chuckling between his thrusts, “it’s getting easier to find your pleasure spot, (y/n).” he leaned his head down and sank his teeth inside the nape of your neck before sucking the area of skin. the hand that covered your eyes slowly fell down, granting you with sight once more.

your sweaty bodies clashed against each other, the sound of skin echoing throughout the storage room. kuroo shoved in and out, biting your neck harder and harder each thrust. 

“so good..” you moaned loudly before slapping a hand over your mouth to cover your erotic sounds. 

speeding up his thrusts, kuroo grinned at the comments made by you. he could feel her dripping down his cock and balls, making a mess as he longed for his release. his thrusts were fast, yet calculated and it made you go absolutely insane.

“shit.” your boyfriend muttered under his breath between his groans, hair falling into his eyes and break a sweat. his breathing quickened and his thrusts became more and more intense with each passing second. his length buried deeper inside your cunt, touching your pleasurable spot with ease. pulling apart from your skin, he bit down onto his lower lip as a crease formed between his eyebrows. 

“you feel so fuckin’ good, (y/n).” his compliments made your knees wobble, edging you closer and closer to your release. in mere seconds, a familiar knot formed inside your stomach as your eyes widened.

“tetsu!” back arching further, your mouth was muffled by your hand as you screamed out his name, your muscles clenching together in the force of a powerful orgasm.

in the mist of your release, the faintest sounds of curses mixed in with your name escaped kuroo’s throat as he pulled out from your cunt, rapidly stroking his cock to chase after his own high. panting under his breath, he let out one last groan to signal his release before squirting all over your ass.

heavy panting filled the void of silence as the two of you slowly came down from your euphoric high. you felt small, light kisses trail up and down your back as if worshipping your body. knees weak from sex, you hesitantly turned around to face your boyfriend.

his hair was messy, and his eyes were gleaming with exhaustion and lust. his body was simmering with sweat, which just made his muscles more visible from underneath his volleyball uniform. his face had gone completely red, with bits of saliva on his lips. 

you stared as he ran his fingers through his hair, removing strands from his eyes so he could see better.

“kuroo tetsurou..” awed at the sight of your boyfriend, you mentally cursed yourself for being speechless like an idiot. kuroo took notice of this and chuckled, wrapping both arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“sorry. couldn’t help myself.” he buried his face in the crook of your collarbone, “forgive me?”

internally giggling at his cute actions, you playfully pushed his sweaty body away from you, “okay, fine. you’re forgiven! let’s just be quieter next t-”

a loud knock interrupted your sentence, causing you to jump up in surprise.

“are you guys done yet?”

hand slapped over your mouth at the voice, you looked up at kuroo and he stared back with wide eyes.

shit, kenma!

ㅡ

“i thought you two died.” kenma sauntered into the storage room with equipment in his hands and his volleyball bag over his shoulders, “the others left since you two were taking forever to organize.” 

“ahaha, sorry about that.” you replied nervously, helping him dump all the volleyballs inside the ball cart, “all the equipment's were out of place.”

giving kuroo a side eye, your boyfriend caught your gaze and winked in response before clearing his throat loudly.

“yeah, i think i need to scold lev for shoving everything in here.” kuroo mumbled, as crouched down to swap his volleyball shoes to his regular ones.

“mm, i’ll talk to lev about it tomorrow.” kenma replied unenthusiastically before placing his bag on the floor. unzipping the bigger pocket, he reached in to pull out a can of lysol before shaking it.

much to your bewilderment, he started to calmly spray the entire storage room with his single can of lysol. the scent of lemon resonated throughout the area, catching kuroo’s attention from his shoes. 

“um, kenma.” kuroo’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion as he stood up, the same look on your face as well, “what are you spraying?”

“lysol.” kenma replied bluntly, his arm waving around to spray each and every corner of the storage room, “wouldn’t want it to smell like sex for tomorrow.”

#haikyuu!! #haikyu #hq #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq+thirst #haikyu x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo smut #kuroo #kenma kozume #kenma #nekoma #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu thirsts

[deceitfuldevil]

Hot and Cold

Pietro Maximoff X Reader

Summary: After defeating Ultron and getting the chance to formally meet the new avengers trainees, also known as the Maximoff twins, you became quite close to the pair in a short amount of time. Of course Wanda took an immediate liking to you for saving her brother's life, and Pietro took a liking to you for. . . other reasons. Wanda always called you two yin and yang, mostly because even though in many ways you two were total opposites, you were always around one another in some form or another. But your thing with Pietro started about two months into knowing him; you were always cold, and you soon came to realize he was always hot. The solution to this? Cuddling. Both of you expressed that it was completely platonic at the beginning, but as time went on you guys didn’t express this nearly as much. . . as your actions proved more and more romantic.

Warnings: mentions of nightmares & childhood trauma, briefly.

Word Count: 2,002 (my birth year:)

Same old, same old. You wake up sometime around 3am with a jolt, another nightmare. In the past few months they’d been about the usual topics, your traumatic childhood, losing your powers, and so on. But after a bad mission about 3 weeks ago, the nightmares have been almost purely your subconscious taunting you. Steve gave you hell on the way back, even called you sloppy. You didn’t go to training for a week afterwards because you were so depressed. Tonight’s nightmare involved you losing your powers and ultimately your entire team. The voices ringing out to you, “This is all your fault,” rang over and over until you woke up gasping for air. You sat up, and after catching your breath, you decided there was nothing better to do than get something to drink.

Taking a sip of the cool water only made you shiver more. Why did Tony line the whole kitchen with freezing marble floors? Taking another sip you looked over at the commons area and saw Pietro, shirtless, sitting in front of a fan watching a movie on the couch. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, and it was something he frequently did when he was too hot. Deciding to surprise him, you carefully walked up behind him on the couch and placed your freezing hands on his bare shoulders. But instead of jumping up and screaming at your touch like you thought he would, he sighed contently and mumbled out:

“Ahh, hello ledyanaya printsessa” (ice princess in Russian)

Although you didn’t speak Russian, you’ve learned a few key words from Pietro and his sister. Like dragâ meant dear, printsessa meant princess, dorogoy meant darling, and of course suka meant bitch. Beyond that if Pietro or Wanda said something you didn’t know, you’d either ask or use context clues to figure out what they were saying.

Although at first you were shocked he didn’t jump at your touch, you smiled to yourself as you used your cold hands to slowly massage Pietro’s broad shoulders; he groaned lowly as you slowly worked out the tension in his shoulders.

“Feels so good, dorogoy. But do you know what would feel even better?”

He questioned, his voice low and raspy, sending a chill down your spine. You only hummed in response, not trusting your voice to push out a solid reply.

“This.”

With one very quick motion he flipped you over from behind the couch and into his arms. His face was just a few inches from yours as he looked down and smiled at seeing a shocked expression on your face.

“What? You didn’t see that coming?” He grinned, his accent rich and thick as he said his now infamous line. Initially he just said it because it pissed Clint off, but soon it became his “catchphrase”.

But you didn’t respond, you just looked into his bright blue eyes. You felt your heart beating so hard, almost sure he could feel it too. You know what you wanted to do but didn’t know if you had the courage to do it.

Silently, Pietro gently brushed a hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, and kept his rested hand on the side of your face. His eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips, you licked them to draw more attention to them and to see if he would do the same. But he one upped you and moved his face impossibly closer to yours, your lips now mere centimeters apart as his hot breath fanned over your face.

“Dragâ, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He inquired, his voice now a hushed whisper. You only shook your head a small yes in response.

He shook his head slightly and sighed. “Well have I ever... shown you?” He asked, gently caressing your face.

Your eyebrows stitched together in confusion. “Pietro what do you—“ but the words died in your throat as Pietro pressed his soft lips to yours in a tender kiss. Pulling away after a few seconds waiting for your reaction. You only opened your eyes and grinned as wide as the sun and placed your lips back onto his, more passionately this time.

For the rest of the night, kisses were shared almost everywhere. Pietro went the extra mile, and as he was giving you slow and soft kisses on your neck he said, “I should’ve *kiss* done that *kiss* sooner *kiss* ...no?” You giggled and turned his face towards yours and with your lips practically touching his.“Way sooner.” you said with a bright smile as you kissed him as you both slowly started to drift to sleep, not particularly caring or realizing the team would see you in the morning.

---

Later that day around 9 in the morning, F.R.I.D.A.Y awoke Tony with a message. “Good morning Mr. Stark, you owe Captain Rogers twenty dollars.” He tiredly laughed and said smugly, “oh do I? And why’s that F.R.I.D.A.Y?” “Because of the agreement made on March 6th, about 37 days ago,” and then F.R.I.D.A.Y played an audio of Steve and Tony talking about you and Pietro:

“Tony, you can’t tell me you don’t see the way those two kids look at each other.”

“Sorry Cap, I think they’re strictly businesses with each other.”

“Have you ever even seen the security camera records of them cuddling together late at night?” Steve asked.

“Okay now you’re pulling my leg old man.” Tony laughed.

“I’ll bet you $20 they’ll end up together within the next 90 days. If I’m wrong, I’ll pay you $40.”

“You’ve got a deal Rodgers... but you do know that’s just pocket change for me right?”

And with that, the audio clip F.R.I.D.A.Y was playing ended;Tony never rushed out of bed faster. He ran down to the main commons area where Nat, Clint, Wanda, and Steve were already gathered; they shushed him as he neared by. Clint and Nat already had their phones out taking pictures of the pair, who Tony looked at and sure enough, they were fast asleep cuddled in each other’s arms. He sighed as Steve nudged him and held out his hand. “So where’s that $20 you told me I’d never see?” Tony rolled his eyes and told Steve he’d be making a trip to the bank.

After a few more minutes of somewhat creepily watching the pair sleep Tony broke the silence and asked, “Okay, do we have enough pictures to blackmail them if needed? Because if so I’m waking them up.” Clint and Nat nodded and slowly stepped away. They assumed Tony would start blasting music or something to that effect. But instead he stood in front of you and Pietro and made sure to take pictures of you two with the flash ON... to wake you up in the most embarrassing way possible of course.

You were the first to notice the bright flashes of light in your face and groaned softly, thinking it was the sun and the first thing in the morning You turned your head over and called out to your cuddle buddy.

“Pietro... I think it’s morning.” He started to rub small circles on the small of your back as he slowly opened his eyes to see a gleeful Tony Stark with his phone camera inches from his face. He quickly looked around and saw the other avengers and even his sister.

“Sukas!!“ he shouted as he put his power to good use and in the blink of an eye, he picked you up and carried you to your room. Only then did you fully open your eyes to see Pietro holding you in his arms, a little breathless.

“What happened?” You asked tiredly.

“We slept in and well... the avengers caught us,” he said dreadfully, his voice still tired and thick with his accent you adored so much.

“Well at least we have nothing to hide from them now, right?” You tried to put a happy spin on the situation.

“They got pictures of us cuddling, dragâ.“

Your eyes blew open as you jumped down from Pietro’s arms and ran back down to the main commons area where now most of the facility was gathered and you guessed it... sharing pictures to one another.

“Whoever has ANY pictures of Pietro and I is to immediately delete them or face the consequences,” you said gleefully, but your words with true intentions. Only no one really took you seriously. In fact, Thor let out a small laugh and said, “What could a hero still in training do if we do keep such pictures?” A few others laughed along with him.

“No no I guess you’re right Thor, I’m only capable of doing things like this,” you said, catching him off guard and giving him a swift kick to the torso, knocking him over. You flipped him over and pinned his hands behind his back. Even Tony and Steve backed away, not thinking you had the power to pin down a literal GOD just quite yet.

“So, does anyone still have any pictures of us on their phones?” You said with a dangerous smile, thinking no one would doubt you now. But Clint was cocky and told you, “the only way you’re getting these pictures off of my phone is from my cold dead hands sweetheart” as he waved his phone in front of you. But before you could jump at him, a flash of blue light came flashing by and was now holding you back as you struggled to go after Clint for his comment.

Pietro whispered in your ear “he isn’t worth it darling,” slowly calming you down in the process. Eventually you stopped fighting Pietro’s grip on you and the urge to kick Clint in the face and turned away from the rest of the team to hug your new boyfriend. You and he started to slowly walk away from the team, but not without saying to Clint, “only I can call her sweetheart, Capeesh? Otherwise I’ll run circles around you while she does more than take those pictures off your phone, old man.”

The group let out a collective “ooohhh” as the two of you headed off back to your room. Tony broke the silence by saying, “so is no one going to mention that she just pinned Thor down like one of the test dummies?” But Thor only scoffed and claimed that you had caught him off guard, which everyone knew was a load of bullshit.

Back in your room, you and Pietro went back to cuddling and just talked about your feelings and what this all meant. But truth be told the whole conversation was mostly soft kisses amongst other things. For the first time in a very long time, you finally felt content, happy, and most of all, loved.

—

Hi everyone!! this is my first imagine of 2021 ahhh!! it’s only put out a day after when I posted my first imagine in 2020. Anyways I’m hoping this post will do well as I’ve never written for this character before... and he's not that popular since he's a little... dead. But we don't talk about that :) Since WandaVision has come out and *spoiler alert* Pietro has returned... somewhat, I’ve realized my appreciation for Age of Ultron Pietro... and fallen heads over heels for the dead man. I’ve rewatched Avengers: Age of Ultron three times in a row for the past three nights now, so it’s safe to say I’m a little mentally unstable. Okay now we’ve dived deeper than any of you care to hear. Anyways I hope you all enjoyed this imagine and constructive criticism and feedback is always welcomed!!

Much Love,

—Skyler

(2/15/21)

#pietro maximoff #pietro #quicksliver #Avengers #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron #Arron Taylor Johnson #mcu #marvel #wandavision #fluff #fan fiction #fan fic #fic #love #cute #oneshot #one shot #imagine #au #x reader #reader insert #:)

[photorose11]

Kiribaku - In The Rain -

I’ve had this written for a few days now, and I’m so happy to finally share it! This was inspired by a beautiful kiribaku fan art piece by the lovely modsisawesome on TikTok. ❤️

You can see it here:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMd6yJMbG/

Please check his art out; it is wonderful. ❤️

_____

It was raining again.

Any other day Kirishima would not mind.

But today was not a good day. This was the fourth day in a row of it raining. It was so bad that all classes had to be inside and everyone in the class was beyond restless, including Kirishima.

Bakugou was definitely taking it the worst.

He was being more explosive then usual, which was saying something considering how explosive he already was on a daily basis. It was safe to say everyone knew to stay out of his way today. Even Kirishima.

Kirishima would be lying if he said he was keeping his distance because of Bakugou being extra grouchy. The red head had no problem handling Bakugou at his worst. Even when the blonde was being snappy, Kirishima knew never to take it to heart. That wasn’t the problem.

Something had happened last night between him and Bakugou that he didn’t know how to explain. Or even comprehend.

It was no secret to Kirishima that Bakugou still dealt with nightmares occasionally. They had started getting better a few months ago, but he still got them every once in awhile. Kirishima noticed when the weather was bad, Bakugou usually had a nightmare.

Whenever it did happen, Kirishima would wake up to a yell or a bang, as if someone was hitting a wall. Kirishima knew it was Bakugou. It took awhile but the blonde got used to Kirishima shuffling over to his room whenever he awoke to a sound coming from Bakugou’s room.

Bakugou would never admit it, but Kirishima laying in bed beside him afterwards always helped ease him back into sleep. Bakugou was thankful for it, Kirishima was just happy he could help Bakugou.

Last night Kirishima had woken up to a yell. One of the loudest he had heard come from Bakugou’s room in awhile. Within a second Kirishima was wide awake and jumping out of bed. He made sure to knock so as not to scare Bakugou by just barging in. Usually the blonde would open the door for him or bang on the wall again as a way to tell him he can enter.

But this time there was only silence and it made Kirishima’s heart sink. Without hesitation he opened the door and quickly closed it behind him. It was dark in the room, in that moment Kirishima realized it was raining heavily outside. There was a flash of lightning that lit up the room for a second, letting Kirishima see Bakugou sitting up in bed against his headboard, he was gripping at his throat with wide eyes.

Kirishima was in front of him on the bed in an instant, slowly bringing his hands up to Bakugou’s which were still around his throat. Even through the heavy rain hitting his balcony doors, Kirishima could hear the blonde gasping for air.

Bakugou hadn’t had a panic attack in months, and this was probably the worst one he had ever seen the blonde experience.

He gently took Bakugou’s hands in his, bringing them to his chest so the blonde can feel his heart beat. Kirishima felt tears well up in his eyes when he heard Bakugou attempting to speak.

“I-I.. can’t..” it was broken off with a sob.

“I know, I know; it’ll be okay. Remember, try to copy my breathing, okay?”

Bakugou nodded through his tears, slowly attempting to copy Kirishima’s breathing pattern. A few minutes passed and his breathing was finally starting to even out but it did not stop his tears. Kirishima had never seen Bakugou look this broken before.

He kept his hands over Bakugou’s that were still laid over his heart, and slowly scooted closer on his knees before bringing a hand up to the blondes head and guiding him to lean his forehead on his shoulder. To Kirishima’s surprise, Bakugou didn’t try to resist. If anything, he brought Kirishima even closer by removing a hand and bringing it around the red heads waist.

Bakugou was technically hugging him, Kirishima had no idea what to do but to make sure Bakugou’s breathing returned to normal. It took a few more minutes before the blonde gave a large sigh as he sniffled and wiped at his eyes. He kept his forehead on Kirishima’s shoulder, and they stayed like that until the blonde slowly lifted his head up.

There was another flash of lightning, allowing them to stare at one another for a second before the room returned to pitch black.

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” Kirishima asked softly. The blonde sniffled again as he stayed silent, Kirishima reached a hand out to Bakugou’s face, gently taking his hand in his before using his other hand to wipe the tears off the blondes cheeks.

“Shigaraki.. hand around my throat.. woke up and couldn’t breathe.” He said slowly in a hoarse whisper.

Kirishima nodded even though he knew Bakugou couldn’t see. His hand stayed on Bakugou’s cheek before slowly removing it to lay a hand on the others knee.

“Are you hurt?” the red head asked, concerned. If so, it wouldn’t be the first time Bakugou had accidentally hurt himself during a panic attack.

“No.. I’m good.”

“You’re really not.’ Kirishima thought sadly. He knew this would be something that bothered Bakugou for days, if not weeks.

“I’m here, Kats.”

It happened so fast Kirishima had no time to think when he felt Bakugou lay his hands on either sides of Kirishima’s face.

“Why do you do this for me?” Bakugou asked in confusion.

Kirishima’s heart raced at the question, because there was no way he could tell Bakugou the real reason why.

“You’re my best friend..” the red head trailed off as he took Bakugou’s hands in his.

“Fuckin why?”

Kirishima blinked in confusion.

“Why what?”

“Why the fuck am I your best friend?”

The question isn’t asked in anger, much to Kirishima’s surprise. All he hears is confusion and frustration. Before Kirishima can reply, Bakugou tears his hands out of his.

“I’m a fuckin’ asshole, Ei! And for literally no reason. I’ve hurt people.. I ended Almight. Apparently I’m seen so much as a villain that the fuckin’ League of Villians kidnapped me to try to recruit me into their bitch ass group!”

By the time he’s done talking, he’s standing beside the bed. Kirishima wishes he could see his face. Before he can think he moves closer to the headboard and leans over to turn on the small lamp on Bakugou’s nightstand. It shines just enough light for him to see Bakugou’s face which is full of frustration, so much that the red head can see tears of frustration in his eyes.

He’s silent for a moment as he processes everything his best friend just said. Kirishima’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. He really thought Bakugou stopped seeing himself as a villain. He really thought Bakugou had stopped blaming himself for Almights retirement.

Had he continued to feel like this this whole time?

Before Kirishima speaks, he moves to sit on the bed in front of Bakugou who is still standing. Their eyes lock on one another and the look in the blondes eyes causes something to shift in Kirishima,

“Katsuki.” He says softly, as he continues to stare up at his friend. He takes Bakugou’s hands in his, squeezing them gently before speaking.

“As much as you may want to believe it, you are not an asshole. Maybe you were back in first year but you’ve changed, I’ve seen you change in the last year and so has our classmates. You hurt people in the past, yeah. I know you still feel guilt over bullying Midoriya but you apologized to him, remember? You took the step needed to fix your friendship with him.”

The blonde looks away, giving a huff. Kirishima keeps a hold of his hands, running his thumb over Bakugou’s knuckles.

“You are not a villain, Katsuki. You’re the strongest, manliest hero I know! I’ve never known anyone else so completely dedicated to being a hero! The League knew how strong you are, they kidnapped you hoping you’d join their side because they knew they’d be fuckin unstoppable with someone like you in their group! They never knew who you truly are, which is a hero.”

By the time Kirishima is done, he’s practically out of breath as he continues to stare up at Bakugou who’s looking off to the side. Even with the blonde looking away he can see the tears that are so close to letting loose.

Bakugou’s hands are shaking.

“You’re such an idiot.” The blonde growls out before whipping his head back to glare at Kirishima.

“You’re fucking blind.”

Kirishima sighs, wanting nothing more then to hug Bakugou and get him to understand. It hurts so much seeing the blonde struggling so much, it literally brings tears to Kirishima’s eyes.

“I don’t think I’m the blind one here.”

Kirishima says it softly but in a way Bakugou knows he’s being dead serious. Hearing the red head holding back his tears makes Bakugou react in a way he didn’t want.

Before Kirishima can process what’s happening he’s on his back on the bed, Bakugou looming over him with his hands on either sides of Kirishima’s head.

Kirishima’s eyes widen in shock before he feels his heart break, because Bakugou is crying and apparently Kirishima is too.

“What the hell are you even talking about?! You’ve always given me to much damn credit! You’ve always fucking been there and it doesn’t make any fucking sense!” he’s yelling with tears falling around Kirishima, the red head is speechless.

“I’m not.. I’m not a good person, Ei.” it comes out as a broken whisper as he closes his eyes, his head bending down causing his bangs to cover most of his face from Kirishima’s view. Kirishima isn’t even attempting to hold back his tears anymore, it’s impossible after seeing his best friend break like this.

Because for Kirishima, Bakugou has always been so much more then just his best friend. He loved him so much it physically hurt.

With a shaking hand he slowly reaches up to tilt Bakugou’s face up so he can see him again. His hand lingers on his face, softly running his fingers over the blondes cheek.

Kirishima has to remind himself to breathe because the way Bakugou is looking at him is doing things to his heart.

“You are the greatest person I’ve ever met, Katsuki.”

It comes out as a whisper that’s laced with tears but he knows Bakugou hears every word, because his eyes widen and something changes between them in that moment.

Kirishima can’t help but notice that it looks like Bakugou had a life changing realization, and Kirishima watches him go pale as he continues to stare down at the red head.

“Kats-“

“Get out.”

Kirishima blinks and Katsuki is back to standing beside the bed, eyes still wide but with a far away look in them.

“What?”

“Get out, Ei. Please get the fuck out.”

Kirishima slowly sits up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Was Bakugou just really mad about what he had said? He hadn’t been trying to piss him off.

“I wasn’t-“

“Leave the fucking room, Ei!”

The words felt like a slap to the face.

With teary eyes he slowly got off the bed, continuing to stare at Bakugou who was glaring at the wall; refusing to meet his eyes. Kirishima gave a sigh before nodding and walking to the door. He didn’t look back as he opened the door, softy closing it behind him.

It was safe to say Kirishima didn’t sleep the rest of the night as he listened to Bakugou’s crying on the other side of the wall.

After that, Kirishima was beyond confused. All the time he had known Bakugou, he had never seen him break like that. He couldn’t get the blondes facial expression out of his head. The way he had been looking at him before darting off the bed..

Kirishima didn’t really know what to make of it.

Kirishima started to wonder if maybe he should have just told Bakugou the real reason why he cared so much and saw him as a good person.

Kirishima was completely in love with him, of course he saw the good in Katsuki. How could he not?

You see the best in the people you love, and Kirishima saw the best in Bakugou better then anyone else.

Blinking out of his thoughts when he heard the bell ring signaling the end of their last class, he looked up just in time to see Bakugou dart out of his seat and out the classroom door.

Kirishima frowned before giving a sigh and looking at his desk.

“Kiri..”

The red head looked up to see Mina standing in front of his desk, Denki and Sero behind her.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly. Kirishima noticed the concerned look on her face as he stared up at her. He gave her a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m gonna finish this up and then I’ll meet you guys at the dorms.”

Mina laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed before nodding her head.

“See ya back at the dorms!” Denki said with a wave, as Kirishima waved back.

He loved his friends. They knew when he needed some space.

After finishing up his worksheet, he quickly put it in his bag along with his pencil before getting up and throwing the bag over his shoulder. He walked out of the classroom, and began his decent down the now empty hallway as he stared at the floor. Once he made it to the exit, he pushed them open and was met with the sight of none other then a torrential downpour.

“Shit.” He cursed.

On the one day he forgot his umbrella too. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about scrubbing the gel out of his hair tonight. It’ll be completely rinsed out by the time he made it back to the dorms in this rain. He took a deep breath and was about to make a run for it, when he noticed someone in the distance.

They were just standing there in the middle of the downpour, looking up at the dark sky.

Kirishima felt a chill go through him when he realized it was Bakugou.

What was he doing standing in the rain?

Without thinking further about it, Kirishima quickly jogged out into the rain, stopping behind Bakugou who still had his head tilted up towards the sky.

Even in the pouring rain, Bakugou was beautiful.

“Hey, Kats!”

Kirishima had to almost shout just so Bakugou could hear him over the rain and even then he was doubtful the blonde would hear him considering he was hard at hearing. To his surprise though, Bakugou tilted his head back down and turned around to face Kirishima.

Later on Kirishima would remember this being the moment things changed.

Bakugou was giving him the most vulnerable look he has ever seen on the blondes face. It made him freeze. It made him realize maybe Bakugou was just as confused as he was.

He knew then. He had to tell Bakugou how much he truly meant to him.

Kirishima gulped, taking the few steps needed to be right in front of Bakugou, who was still staring at him with that same look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you last night. I swear that wasn’t my intention. I just worry so much about you.” Kirishima said over the rain as Bakugou continued to stare at him before scowling.

“That’s the point, you shouldn’t! Even with everything you said last night, i don’t understand why you care so damn much!”

It came out as a yell but Kirishima knew it was so he could hear him over the rain. Kirishima bit his lip, noticing the feeling of his hair now laying flat and soaked around his face due to the rain. He was soaked head to toe, same as Bakugou. It was freezing.

This was not how Kirishima pictured confessing to Bakugou.

“You’re kidding yourself he-“

Kirishima refused to let him finish that sentence.

“Because I love you, Katsuki!”

It was silent accept for the sound of the rain around them, although Kirishima could swear he could hear the racing of his heart in his chest.

He watched Bakugou’s eyes widen. Kirishima expected him to get angry. To ask him once again what the hell he’s talking about. But instead the blonde takes a step closer.

“What?”

He doesn’t yell it so Kirishima has a hard time hearing him over the rain, but he understands. Bakugou is speechless. He still looks so vulnerable, but he also looks like he is in complete disbelief over what Kirishima just said.

“I-I’m in love with you! I’ve been in love with you for so long now, a-and I know I should have been honest with you and told you sooner, and for that I apologize. But, that’s why I see you how I do. I’ve always seen the best in you, and I love you because of all of it, Kats!”

Bakugou remains frozen in place, eyes still wide as he stares at Kirishima. He blinks rapidly and Kirishima thinks he may actually be crying, but it’s impossible to tell with the rain drenching them. Kirishima stays in place, afraid to say anything else. Doubt starts creeping in the longer they stand in front of one another, Bakugou silent as ever.

Kirishima wonders if he just fucked up their friendship.

Before he can say anything else, Bakugou takes the few steps needed to be standing right in front of the redhead, and before Kirishima can even blink Bakugou has a hold of his tie and pulls him closer causing Kirishima to gasp in surprise.

What is happening?

“Uhh..”

“Shut up. “

Kirishima sees something other then vulnerability in Bakugou’s eyes now. Maybe it’s always been there and Kirishima just couldn’t tell because he wasn’t really looking for it. But he definitely sees it now.

Bakugou is looking at him with fondness and dare he say it, love.

It makes Kirishima’s knees shake. His heart starts racing even faster and he has to remember to keep breathing but the look in the blondes eyes is literally leaving him breathless. What Bakugou says next has everything fade around them because in that moment all Kirishima sees is him.

“Kiss me right now, or I’m blasting your face off.”

That is the most romantic thing Kirishima has ever heard the blonde say.

The words cause Kirishima to feel like the world just tilted off its axis and he seriously wonders if this is all just a dream. Because Katsuki Bakugou just told him to kiss him.

Before Kirishima can think further on it, he does what he has wanted to do for almost a year now and grabs Bakugou’s face in his hands and brings him close to kiss him.

And it is so much better then Kirishima had ever imagined it would be.

The blonde does not hesitate in responding back, as he keeps one hand clutching Kirishima’s tie and the other wrapping around Kirishima’s waist.

It’s so hard to believe that it’s actually happening but when he feels Bakugou deepen the kiss he loses all thought process and eagerly kisses back.

They’re both unsure how long they stay like that. But by the time they pull away, the rain has stopped. They’re still soaked head to toe, and everything in their backpacks is more then likely ruined. Neither care.

The rain is the last thing on their minds.

#kiribaku fic #kiribaku fanfiction #Kirishima #bakugo #Bakugou #bakushima #bakushima fic #bakushima fanfiction #kirishima x bakugou #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction #kiribaku in the rain #inspired by modsisawesome #modsisawesome #this is like pure fluff #with a sprinkle of angst #kiribaku fanart #kiribaku #kiribaku shipper

[solalunar-eclipse]

SYCS - 1 Year Anniversary

Chapter title: Set In Stone

Word count: about 4000 words

Next

Author’s Note: On July 26, 2020, I posted the first chapter of Scars You Can’t See. One year later, I’ve written five stories of varying lengths and am currently working on a sixth (wow)! My writing’s come a long way since then, and a lot of my improvement is thanks to everyone who encourages me to continue said writing, whether it’s through likes, reblogs, or comments. Thank you all so much for your support so far! :)

This is a rewrite of the very first chapter of SYCS, since the original could use a little fixing. Some important notes: I’ve edited a few parts of the story to be more in character, Chapter 2 starts in a different place after this updated version, and I’ve also fixed up chapter 13 because apparently I forgot to finish the motif I started?? Somehow??? At least I remembered eventually...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the (revised) story!

Before, Shadow had always been able to just ignore what it meant to work for G.U.N.

He’d managed somehow to convince himself to brush aside the fact that the soldiers he worked with (had been coerced into working with) wore the same uniforms as those who killed Maria, his dear sister and first friend. To push away any idea that he couldn’t deal with serving the same organization that had once wanted him dead. (It was the only way to stay with his friends, of course he could deal.)

The same thing went for using guns during the Black Arms invasion- even though he’d had amnesia, he remembered enough that he’d needed to rely on adrenaline near constantly just to make it through those times. Despite this, he had still taken the better part of a month to recover afterwards.

His memories of that day were particularly fresh for a while.

Once the invasion had been successfully repelled, G.U.N. had hired him to work for them very rapidly, as a matter of fact. During the process, some of the people along the way strongly suggested that if the organization wasn’t able to keep an eye on him, then…well, then they’d be very displeased. 

Shadow knew all too well that you did not want G.U.N. displeased with you.

The hybrid felt nothing but exhausted as these thoughts whirled through his head for the hundredth time. They’d only become a major problem recently, ever since the military organization had begun to require him to resume using guns on his missions. Every single time he touched one, the cold steel left his palms slick inside his gloves and made his head swim with flashes of memories too often repressed. Still, he had to use them- he’d be taken off missions entirely if he refused, and Shadow would never leave Rouge and Omega in the lurch like that.

However, his mental health had been growing ever worse these past few weeks as a result. He thought (hoped) he’d done a good job of hiding it from Rouge and Omega, but Shadow had been sparring with Sonic noticeably less. The hybrid had struggled with the idea of inflicting more violence on others in his spare time, and the hero had asked him about it several times, trying to figure out the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Shadow shook his head, pushing his doubts and worries away just as he always had before. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by his thoughts- they might spill over into missions if he wasn’t careful. Forcing himself to focus on his schedule for the day and nothing else, he walked out of his room to take on whatever might come his way.

…

He was skating through the halls of an old, decrepit building (currently being used as a hideout by Eggman) on a mission. A robot stepped into his path.

Shadow hadn’t used his weapon yet on this assignment. He remembered the thinly veiled threat after his first refusal- we may have to remove you from missions if you cannot handle this responsibility- and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He shut his eyes, whipped out the firearm, and pulled the trigger. Flinching at the sound out of instinct, he refused to open his eyes until the gun was away, when he didn’t have to see it anymore. The robot lay on the ground, a smoking hole in its center. He tried to ignore the lingering sensation of the G.U.N. logo embossed on the handgrip in his palm.

Shadow felt the floor tilt for a moment under him before he regained his bearings.

He refused to look at the machine as he rushed by.

…

The exhausted hedgehog curled up in bed at night, unable to keep himself from hearing gunshots over and over and over. He fought against the memories of that day, refused to let them spill over into his thoughts.

Yet despite his best efforts, he knew he’d dream of it again tonight. He knew that he’d wake up screaming with her name in his mouth and the sight of blood still burned into his eyes. It had happened every night since he’d received the weapon.

Shadow swallowed down his fearful apprehension over what would come next. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to close his eyes, even though he wished to do the exact opposite. Dreams were not real. He could not let them hold power over him.

But still, he shivered as he tried to fall asleep.

…

He and Omega were standing in the center of a courtyard, broken badnik scrap lying all around them. This mission was supposed to be easy, just a simple in-and-out. Take out the bots, grab the intel, and go.

Rouge had asked them to cover for her as she searched for information in the abandoned computers alone. Shadow hadn’t liked the idea of leaving her alone but agreed grudgingly anyway.

He looked down at the firearm he held in his hands and tried his hardest not to cringe.

Flashes of memories threatened to surface again, of escape pods and gunshots and too much blood-

“Shadow.”

He jumped, not expecting Omega’s loud voice so suddenly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You have been distracted for nearly ten minutes. Are you unwell?”

Shadow sighed, projecting a relaxed attitude. “Everything is fine. I was simply thinking.”

“About what?” Omega asked curiously.

“Nothing much.”

Silence descended upon the two again for a minute. 

“Shadow.” the E-series robot repeated.

“What.” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he’d intended.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. You looked distressed.”

“I’m fine, alright?” Shadow insisted. “Just- forget it, Omega.”

Omega stepped closer. “Past experience has informed me that you tend to hide important thoughts from others. Therefore, I will assume that this is essential knowledge until proven otherwise.”

“It’s not important.”

The robot placed his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. The latter wouldn’t admit it, but the weight was comforting, in a way.

“This is not adequate proof. Do you not trust me, Shadow?”

He sighed. “I do trust you, Omega. You know that.”

“Then talk.” Omega’s processors whirred for a moment, before adding, “Please.”

The hybrid’s shoulders slumped- he knew his friend wouldn’t stop until he told the truth. “I was thinking, how weird is it, that I work for the same organization that ki-...caused my sister’s-” He paused on the word, fighting not to trip over his sentences. “-death and...attempted to cause mine. Among other things. And how now...I must use weapons like the ones that took her from me...to harm others.” He sighed, nearly worn out just from the effort of discussing that event’s existence.

Omega jerked away from him, startling Shadow. “G.U.N. is the organization that killed your sister?” he asked, sounding- if it were possible- shocked.

“And the one that locked me away in cryostasis for 50 years, yes.” Shadow said, feigning calm.

Omega made a staticky noise that sounded like a sharp exhale. “Shadow. Why did nobody tell me this before? And why in the name of Chaos do you still work here?”

Shadow looked away, hiding the bitterness in his expression. “Multiple reasons. One, the organization has somewhat cleaned up its act, as far as I can tell. Two, it wants to keep me under surveillance, since I am still ‘potentially dangerous’ to them...and consequences would be severe if I did not obey.”

He tapped his heel on the ground. “Also, it was one of the main avenues for us to become heroes. Unlike Sonic and his friends, we don’t have the luxury of fighting someone who wants us to know where they are. And you know we didn’t exactly have the best record with law enforcement beforehand.”

“Still.” Omega replied. “I am highly opposed to the concept of fighting in the name of such an organization. Have they at least apologized to you? Or admitted their wrongdoing?”

Shadow frowned, thinking. “No, actually, they never did.”

Why did he have to bring this up? There’s no point in talking about what’s past. Let’s just get over it and move on.

Omega looked down, his eyes dimming slightly. “Processing.”

He was still processing by the time Rouge arrived, and remained mostly silent for their exit, post-mission briefing and the entire ride home.

Once the three had gotten inside, Rouge faced the E-series robot. “Alright, what’s up with you? You’re never quiet, but you’ve barely said a word since I got back.”

“I am considering an important decision.” Omega said.

“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked, folding her arms.

“My potential resignation from the government organization known as G.U.N..”

“Wait, what?” Rouge gasped. 

Shadow shouted out from the other room simultaneously. “Omega, what are you thinking?!”

“Current logic process is as follows: G.U.N. hurt one of the few decent people on this planet and my friend fifty years ago by murdering Maria Robotnik and many others aboard the ARK, as well as imprisoning him for said fifty years against his will. It has not apologized or shown remorse for those actions. Therefore, this organization clearly has no respect for Shadow, and therefore I refuse to aid them one moment longer.”

Shadow appeared at the robot’s side, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Omega, but you don’t need to do that for me. I’m alright with this.”

(He was lying, of course.)

“Hold on a minute here, Omega’s got a point.” Rouge said pensively. “I started working here so I wouldn’t go to jail for stealing, but I’ve served my ‘sentence’ ages ago. Honestly, I kind of hate it there anyway? Like, nobody even respects us and it’s got way too much bureaucracy and too many outdated ideas. It’d be much better if it was just the three of us doing our own thing away from them, wouldn’t it?”

“Besides, hon, you’ve got to start standing up against those guys. I know you were going through a major existential crisis a while back when this all started, and that was the main thing you had to deal with. But now that you’ve started to figure everything out, it’s time to stop letting people treat you this way! We don’t have to give G.U.N. anything. They never helped you at all.”

“Agreed.” Omega said. “This organization does not deserve you- or any of us. They have wronged you, and though forgiveness is supposedly a ‘virtue’, it is likely so only when it is deserved.”

Shadow stared at the two of them. “That was...actually kind of philosophical for a minute. And convincing.” He huffed, frustrated, his hands curling into fists. “I just…how would I even go about dealing with my grievances with an entire military organization? I would need proof...and I don’t want to damage my standing with the government. G.U.N. can easily claim that I have gone rogue.” 

He swallowed, trying to ignore the various insecurities at the corners of his mind. “I’m just...should I really be digging all of this up again? I’ve finally started to get over it…”

“Okay, so first of all, hon, you’d better not let G.U.N. walk all over you just because they can make up fake blackmail.” the bat insisted. “And second, you’re clearly not over it. Shadow...I can hear you when you wake up from your nightmares, you know. You deserve some kind of closure to help you, and if G.U.N. won’t give it to you, then you have to take it.

“Also, here’s another thing- how much worse would you feel if G.U.N. hurt someone else, and we had never said anything to warn anyone?”

Shadow stiffened, feeling ill again. The very idea was abhorrent. That another person’s Maria could be lost due to his silence...“That...that would be unimaginable….” he breathed.

“Exactly.” Rouge replied. “So, consider it.”

Shadow frowned. “I...I’ll keep it in mind. But we should at least see if they’ll do something first before we try to attack them. We might be able to convince them to make amends, after all. I mean, if we fight, we’ll be completely out of a job, and I don’t know if the funds from Club Rouge will be enough to keep us afloat- if we succeed. It’s too risky, at least for now.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then we can definitely stick with that to start.” the bat said. “I don’t know if I could’ve taken any of their apologies if it were me, but it’s not my life, it’s yours. So I’ll be right with you no matter what you decide to do, okay?”

“As will I.” Omega added, placing a hand on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Rouge. Thanks, Omega.” the hybrid said, finally allowing relief to show on his face as he looked at his friends.

He couldn’t help but feel that with them by his side, everything would be alright.

…

They talked through most of the night about how to bring it up, what they would say, and even where they would sit to keep Shadow feeling as safe as he could. The hybrid had final veto power over anything the other two suggested, and he tried to keep the wording of the speech he’d give as controlled and polite as possible. 

However, he tried not to bring up the “maybe G.U.N. still thinks I’m a weapon to be stored and used, not a person” topic during his proposal. Those insecurities could wait for another day.

They fell asleep late at night, all three in the same room- Shadow made a blanket nest on the floor, Omega plugged himself into the wall, and Rouge was on her bed.

Pleasantly enough, Shadow didn’t have any nightmares that night.

…

“You want us to do what?” 

The head of the public relations department stood behind his desk, cutting a slightly dominating figure in front of the team in his room. Omega could easily detect an increased heart rate in Shadow. He was not betraying any nervousness externally, however, and the robot was impressed by his friend’s willpower.

The PR head sat down, and he gestured for Team Dark to do the same. However, since there were only two chairs in the room (as they had known), Omega remained standing. Among other things, it would allow him to more easily defend his friends should the talk go awry.

“I’m afraid we just can’t do that kind of thing...Shadow.” He said the last word like it was distasteful, like it didn’t belong in his mouth. (Or, perhaps, like he wanted to add a “Project” or “Experiment” to the front of it, but didn’t for fear of a missile to the face delivered by Omega.)

“Why not?” The hybrid asked. “Sir,” he forced himself to add politely. “Don’t you agree that it was wrong? That G.U.N.’s soldiers shouldn’t have done...what they did?”

“I am incredibly saddened that Miss Robotnik’s death occurred in the search for you, and that the head of G.U.N. at the time considered you unworthy of any basic living rights.” the PR leader said, sounding more than anything like he was reading a script off a teleprompter. “However, I am not going to make a public statement digging up something that happened fifty years ago.”

Rouge leaned forward in her chair furiously. “So you’re just going to pretend it never happened? What about the trauma Shadow experienced? What about the fact that this kind of thing could happen again?”

The leader looked at her coldly. “I can assure you that this is an isolated incident, and that such an occurrence has not happened before or since.”

“But you can't just-! Can’t we speak with the commander?” Rouge gasped, outraged.

“I can, and I will. And you know very well that the commander is taking a well-deserved vacation, and we are not to disturb him for any reason except an emergency. Now then. Did you have anything else you needed?” he said smugly.

Omega was so, so close to just arming the missile launcher anyway.

Shadow looked up at him carefully, clearly going over the words in his head. “Sir. May I respectfully ask why G.U.N. considered it necessary to arm me? I can apply lethal force if necessary in other manners.”

The PR head frowned. “Close quarters are not necessarily a safe space for you, Shadow. We need you alive, and if that means you’re farther back, then so be it.”

“But- me? Destroying with impunity? In such a cold, distant manner? That’s not what G.U.N. wants to see from me, I thought. And with my experiences, I really don’t think-”

The human folded his arms. “Don’t worry about thinking, just worry about completing your missions on time. And what’s past is past, right? Now then, I expect no more complaints from you three. This meeting is concluded.”

Shadow stood up stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Rouge froze. “Wait, Shadow, you’re not just going to-”

“We’re leaving, Rouge. Now.” Shadow said firmly, but the two other members of Team Dark could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. Omega remained silent, but internally was playing a very nice simulation in which he repeatedly punched the head of the PR department.

Once they had exited the office and walked through the facility for a while, Shadow leaned heavily against a wall. “He’s not sorry at all.” he muttered. The robot didn’t need his sensors to tell that he was experiencing far too many negative feelings at once. It wasn’t healthy for organics to deal with all that all the time…

“Agreed.” Omega said. “I would not be surprised in the least if he was lying throughout all of it.”

Rouge sighed, before pulling an unresisting Shadow into a hug. “Honey, I’m...” She paused for a second. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You shouldn’t have to cope with people like that, ever.”

Shadow closed his eyes quietly and stood like that for a long time. Eventually, though, he spoke up. “.....I know what we have to do. I...I know we need to fight, like you said last night. I don’t feel ready, but just…it has to happen.”

Omega looked down at them both. “You two go out to the car. I will go and get your sister’s files myself while you take a few minutes, Shadow. I am bulletproof and the most likely to make it out unscathed, and if I need help I can call.”

Rouge rolled her shoulders briefly, her wings flexing. “Alright. I’ll be ready to get out of here the second you get in. Sound good?”

“Alright.” Omega agreed. “Let’s go.”

The robot marched down the halls, on a mission. He stopped first to gather everything from their office- or at least all of their personal items. They might need them later, after all. He placed them into his empty chest compartment (he hadn’t refilled on weaponry in a while) and moved on. 

The lower levels of the G.U.N. facility were darker and less well-maintained. This was most likely on purpose, to keep people from wanting to go down there. Omega, however, did not fear the dark. He had a flashlight, and a hulking five-foot robot was usually enough to scare most creatures.

Thankfully, the guards stationed throughout these levels knew him, and simply stepped aside to let Omega pass. Quite a few of them were honestly nervous down there themselves, and barely even noticed him.

He noticed a small door marked ‘Records Room- Classified’ and knew he was in the right place. The door did not give him access, but that was alright. Rouge had hacked the system a while back and given herself the highest clearance possible...and now Omega had her spare card.

Once he was inside, he scanned the cabinets methodically until he found the file marked ‘Maria Robotnik’. Inside were papers detailing her death and her life. Everything one could have wanted to know about her was inside. 

The red stamp on the front reading ‘Terminated’ was pretty ominous, and Omega briefly wondered if he would be able to remove it. He considered the possibility that Shadow would not be quite so pained upon seeing it if the stamp were gone.

It was unlikely, and so he moved on.

Omega exited the room, hoping that the guards in the security monitor room were slacking off. They often were, so he calculated at least a 70% chance of exiting the facility without incident. He placed the file inside his compartment and continued on.

Being a robot meant that he could not act nervous. Therefore, nobody questioned him as he walked through the halls and outside, where he saw Rouge talking to Shadow inside their black-and-red car.

The hybrid appeared to be rather panicked about the whole plan, so as Omega slid into the backseat, he placed his hand on his friend’s head for a brief moment. “Everything is going to be alright, Shadow. I promise you that.”

Shadow sighed and slumped back against the seat. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices what we did.”

Rouge pulled out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires and didn’t let the speedometer dip below fifty until they got home.

“Right.” she said, once they were all inside. “We’ll probably have G.U.N. beating down our door by tomorrow morning, so let’s make sure they don’t catch us still here by then. Omega, refill your weapons and pack us some clothes and stuff. Shadow, you just try and chill. I’m going to look over this file.”

As Rouge flipped through the pages, Shadow decided that he needed to see these for himself and walked over to stand behind her. Before long, though, he recoiled in shock upon seeing that when G.U.N. discussed Maria’s death, they justified it. Made it seem like Shadow was the villain. A monster. A weapon.

“Shadow?” the bat asked.

“...yes?”

“You know we can’t use this by itself, right? We need more proof. Like, video proof.” she said, sounding resigned.

“I know.” he said quietly, disappointed that so little had changed despite the fact that half a century and some new management had taken place. 

Omega cursed out G.U.N. from the other room in response and came over to them, his eyes in their ‘angry’ shape. “We need to stop them now. This revolting organization does not deserve to spend another minute active anywhere on the planet.”

“Let’s get them, then.” Rouge hissed, clearly furious as well. 

Shadow felt terribly apprehensive, but despite that, he agreed as well. “Then they won’t be able to hurt anyone else in the future.” he said, sounding more determined than he had in a while.

“You ready, guys?” the bat asked, holding out her hand in the midst of their little group.

Omega allowed his giant metal hand to hover over hers. “Always.”

Rouge looked at the hybrid. “You sure you’re up for this, hon?”

“Not entirely…” Shadow admitted, but took a deep breath and held out his hand too, allowing Rouge to guide his hand to Omega’s, just like she had so long ago. “...but I need to do it, and so I will.”

“Then we’ll expose them, Shadow.” she said confidently. “And we’ve totally got this, because we’re doing it together.”

And as they all clasped hands for a moment, before breaking off to head to the garage, Shadow felt like they really had a chance to succeed.

#scars you can't see #sol's fanfiction #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #i've actually had this saved for a while! i thought the anniversary would be a good time to post it :) #i went back and reread chapter 1 and was like '.......i could write this so much better now' #so here we are! #i especially didn't like how omega forced shadow's hand- i much prefer this one where it's a team agreement #shadow's still a little hesitant because of how it turned out the last time he went up against g.u.n. #but he knows he needs to do this for himself (and for others too) #i did still try and keep the general plot structure the same though- just improved it (hopefully) #either way i'm looking forward to another year of writing! it's been really cool so far :D #thanks as always for reading

[spencersstrawberryjello]

Revelations (Spencer Reid x fem!MC)

Summary: SPOILERS FOR SEASON TWO As everything goes down with Tobias Hankel, Aria and the BAU have to find him before it’s too late. Once they do, Aria takes Spencer home and comforts him. 

Content: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Descriptions of torture and violence (all related to Reid’s abduction in season two), swearing, kidnapping and emotional turmoil

MC’s name and pronouns: Aria (are-ee-ah) Glenn, she/her

Word Count: 5024 (it’s a long one folks so buckle up - it ended up being almost ten full pages lmao)

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“Hey,” I looked up from my phone to see Emily standing in the doorway. “Can I sit?”

I gestured to the space on the bed beside me, in the small house that made me nauseous. Thinking about the fact that the bed I was sitting on right now belonged to the man who had kidnapped Spencer made me want to both punch something and throw up. Emily came and sat beside me, turning to face me as I did the same. Her voice was soft when she spoke, studying my face. 

“How are you doing?” She asked. It was a question she already knew the answer to, and I scoffed.

“We’re both profilers, Prentiss. You tell me; how do you think I’m doing?” I snapped. Immediately afterwards, guilt flared through my chest, and I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. It’s just - well, you know. I don’t think any of us are in a good state of mind right now.”

I dropped my gaze back to my hands, resting in my lap. She took them, directing my attention back to her as she spoke. 

“Glenn. We all care about Reid, and we’re all doing everything we possibly can to get him back. But I know that your relationship with him is… different. You kind of disappeared earlier, I just wanted to check on you.”

“I just couldn’t watch that anymore,” My chest tightened just thinking about the sight of Spencer, tied to a chair, being forced to decide who lives and who dies. He looked so broken -

I forced myself away from that train of thought, taking my hands out of Emily’s to press them to my eyes in an attempt to ward away the tears I felt rising again. 

I’ve cried so much in the past two days I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to again. 

“I understand,” She moved my hands so I’d look into her eyes again. “I just wanted you to know we’re all here for you, ok? We’re all in this together, we’re all worried about him. You’re not alone in what you’re feeling.”

I nodded, and she pulled me into a tight hug, one I returned gratefully. The moment was interrupted by Derek flying into the room, with a statement that made my heart drop. 

“The live feed is back on,” He announced, clearly intending for Emily and I to come with him. I knew that watching the videos was the best way for us to figure out where the hell this guy took Spencer, but the idea of seeing him in that cabin again made me want to throw up. I immediately started to shake my head, a childlike reflex to the statement. 

“No. No, I can’t, I -” I wanted nothing more than to be curled up in his arms right now. 

This all felt like one massive nightmare. I wished I could just wake up, scared before I realized he was safe in his apartment, laying in bed with me. I would turn over and press a quick kiss to his lips, not enough to wake him up but enough that I could appreciate his presence even more after imagining the worst possibility, before burying myself back in the warmth of his embrace…  

“Aria. Hey,” Emily had her hand on my arm, pulling me out of my fantasy. My mind had started to take over, to take me into a daydream that was safer than the turmoil that had become our reality. “I know this is hard. But the more people we have working on this, the better the odds of us finding him are.”

“I hate to say it, but you guys need to hurry. We have no idea how long he’s going to be live.”

I felt like I was going to pass out when I stood up, making my way into the computer room that had become Garcia’s base for the past two days. My attention focused immediately on the screen displaying the live feed of Spencer. Emily was still standing next to me, and she reached out, giving my arm a quick squeeze to make sure I knew she was right there. I nodded my appreciation, but I couldn’t break my eyes away from the video.

He looked exhausted. Exhausted, and in pain, physically and mentally. 

I didn’t know how much more of this he could handle. 

“This ends now.” Charles Hankel’s voice was one I knew would be at the center of my nightmares for years to come; and if that was how I felt, I couldn’t imagine what Spencer was feeling right now. I didn’t think I wanted to. “Confess your sins.”

I dug my nails into my palms, trying to steady my breathing. I could tell Spencer was trying not to cry, and for a moment I thought Charles wasn’t going to do anything before he moved closer to the chair, punching him hard in the face. A sob escaped my lips, and I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to silence myself as I watched him beat him, over and over, demanding he confess to the sins he hasn’t committed.

I looked around the room, and I knew we were all feeling a very similar set of emotions right now. It’s just a matter of what was the strongest. Garcia was trembling from her seat in front of the computers. Derek looked like he was going to genuinely kill somebody, and JJ looked like she was going to be sick. Hotch and Gideon were watching with nothing but fatherly worry, and even Emily looked like she couldn’t breathe.

“Tobias, help me,” His voice was so quiet we could hardly hear it through the camera speaker, Spencer begging for some kind of rescue. He was crying openly now, and I knew that I was silently doing the same as Charles hit him again before pushing the chair backwards, causing Spencer to fall to the ground. 

At first I thought he’d passed out. But then I noticed him convulsing. 

“Oh my god,” Garcia was the first one to say something, her voice breaking as we watched Spencer gasping for air, unable to do anything but observe from the other side of a screen, “He’s killing him.”

I felt myself starting to spiral again, unable to even speak, wanting so badly to leave but knowing I’d never forgive myself if I did. So I stood there and watched the man I love thrash on the ground while Charles Hankel just stood over him, watching him die without even blinking. It wasn’t until Spencer stopped moving that he spoke. 

“That’s the devil vacating your body.” 

Spencer wasn’t moving.

Spencer Reid was dead. 

He was lying dead on the floor in a cabin in the middle of who-the-fuck knows where and there was absolutely nothing I could do to help him. 

Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. 

“No…” Was all I was able to say. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image of Spencer’s body on the floor, still tied to that chair, abandoned as Charles Hankel left the room, leaving the camera still rolling. Gideon stormed out of the room - I thought I heard the bathroom door slam - and everyone immediately jumped into action, leaving Garcia and I alone staring at the unchanging computer screen.

“Come on baby, wake up. Please, for the love of god, please wake up.”

It felt like my mind was speedrunning the five stages of grief as I muttered under my breath, begging to a man who couldn’t even hear me. Who had no control over whether he lived or died. 

Garcia hadn’t moved either, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she stared at the screen. I moved over to her, grabbing her hand in mine, both of us trying desperately to comfort each other after the scene we just witnessed, unable to process what happened enough to even speak. After a moment, Hotch came back into the room, opening his mouth to say something to Penelope when something finally changed on the video in front of us. 

Charles Hankel had come back into the room.

Except it wasn’t Charles this time, it was Tobias, running over to Spencer’s body and immediately starting CPR in an attempt to save his life. Hotch called everyone back into the room, all of us gathered around the screen. After what felt like years, we heard it.

Spencer finally coughed. 

He woke up, and I thought I was going to cry from relief. I might’ve actually been crying; honestly I’d spent most of the last two days in a constant state of either crying or about-to-be crying, so it wouldn’t have come as much surprise. Everyone let out varying gasps of relief before getting to work again, deducing that Hankel would have to be within a 17-mile radius of the crime scene to have killed those people and then uploaded the video in the time frame that he did. Hotch was about to leave before we noticed Hankel’s demeanor change yet again as he stood over Spencer, who was still stuck on the floor. 

“You came back to life.” 

“Raphael.” 

“There can be only one of two reasons.”

“I was given CPR.”

“There are no accidents.”

Whatever momentary relief I got from seeing Spencer alive faded the moment Raphael began to ask questions. 

Questions about us. 

“He thinks it’s Revelation,” Hotch stated, concern filling his usually even tone. “The 7 Archangels versus the 7 Angels of Death.”

“Tell me who you serve.”

“I serve you.”

“Then choose one to die.”

My hand flew back up to my mouth as I processed the command, watching Spencer’s face crumble with the realization as well. 

“Kill me.” The words made my heart break, and I found myself desperately fighting the edge of tears, yet again. 

Damn, I really hated having emotions.

“Tell me who dies.”

“No.”

Raphael reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a revolver and pointing it straight at Spencer’s forehead. It was a game of Russian Roulette, and I genuinely thought I might puke from the omnipresent anxiety making my knees weak. 

“I can’t -” I broke, turning away from the screen and into Derek’s arms as he pulled me into a hug. I hated not watching, but it was more than I could bear. It was all I could do just to listen as Spencer denied his request over and over again, each time the click of the trigger bringing him closer and closer to a bullet in the brain. 

“I choose… Aaron Hotchner.”

The sentence made me snap my gaze back to the screen, not breaking the hug but watching attentively as Spencer quoted a Bible verse. Hotch, however, left the room as soon as Spencer had finished speaking, everyone trailing out into the main room after him. 

“Hey, he’s alive. He’s alive,” Derek comforted me as everyone followed Hotch.

It’s truly a sign of how fucked up the situation is when the only comfort is that he hasn’t died yet.

Or at least, not permanently. 

I nodded, and broke the hug, following after everyone who had already found Hotch again. He was holding a Bible, quickly explaining that Spencer misquoted the verse. 

Misquoted the verse on purpose.

We’d found him.

We piled into the cars, my heart racing a mile a minute as we sped down the abandoned country roads, pulling up to an empty plantation, with nothing but trees in sight for miles aside from a small cabin and a cemetery surrounding it. 

We checked the cabin first.

Clear.

It wasn’t until we started making our way across the grounds that we heard it. 

A gunshot. 

“Oh god please don’t let that have been for Reid,” JJ echoed exactly what the rest of us were thinking. We followed the sound, Hotch calling out his name as we ran towards it. Finally, we saw him, hunched over the dying body of Tobias Hankel. 

Hotch took off in a sprint, approaching Spencer first, placing a gentle hand on his arm before Spencer pulled him into a tearful hug. He did the same to JJ, until I finally moved into view. 

He looked like he’d been to hell and back. He could hardly support his own weight, he was sweating, bruised, and there was an open wound on his forehead. But I’d never been happier to see him. 

I wasted no time pulling him into a hug, finally not trying to keep the tears at bay. For a moment, neither of us said anything, we just held each other, both of us crying in the cold night air. 

“I thought I’d lost you,” I finally said, pulling back from the hug to look at his eyes. A small smile came over his face, and I’d never seen anything more beautiful. He was still crying, and I brought my hands up to cup his face, wiping the tears from his cheeks. He was very clearly out of it, and I guided him to put his arm around my shoulders, helping him walk back to the cars, whispering reassurances the entire way there. 

“Wait!” He protested, “I have to do something first.”

He turned back towards Tobias’ body, and I let him go, giving him a moment to do whatever it was he needed as he limped over to the corpse. I turned back to the team, noticing Hotch looking at me with curiosity. Seeing as the only person who knows about Spencer and I’s relationship was Emily, it didn’t really come as a shock that I’d be getting strange looks. But honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“He’s probably going to need to go to a hospital,” Hotch said. We nodded our agreement, knowing there was an ambulance waiting back at Tobias Hankel’s house. 

Spencer rejoined the group, and I helped him the rest of the way back to the car. I wanted nothing more than to hold him in the backseat, but there wasn’t enough space and I didn’t want to draw more suspicion by asking JJ to move. So I climbed into the front seat next to Derek, who was driving. He shot me a look, and I just shrugged, not confirming or denying anything. 

The drive back felt significantly shorter now that he was safe with us, and when we got back, we followed the ambulance to the hospital. Despite the fact that they definitely didn’t need an 8-person FBI escort to take Spencer into the hospital, Gideon didn’t even ask us whether or not we wanted to go. It was just assumed. 

We’d gathered in the waiting room, everyone waiting to hear the extent of what that monster put him through. I was sitting in the chair closest to the hall, and immediately sprang to my feet when I saw the doctor round the corner. 

“What all did he do to him?” I demanded. 

“He had a pretty nasty gash on his forehead that we had to stitch up,” He started, “And his face is pretty bruised. Same with the bottom of his left foot. It’s a miracle it wasn’t broken.”

We nodded along to him speaking, and he paused for a second before revealing the worst detail.

“We also found a series of needle marks on his right arm. Traces of Dilaudid were still in his system.”

We’d assumed they’d drugged him - he wouldn’t have seized the way he did if they hadn’t, not to mention that JJ found records of Tobias Hankel’s addiction to narcotics - but hearing confirmation made my chest tight. 

“What does that mean for him?” Hotch asked. 

“Well, Dilaudid is addictive. It’s a narcotic painkiller; you’ll want to keep an eye on him in the next couple of weeks and note any strange behaviors you might see him exhibiting.”

We all nodded our understanding, and the doctor wrapped up what he was saying.

“Other than that, he just needs rest. We gave him water and something to eat, so honestly the best thing for him right now is to go home, get a shower and get some sleep. He might have some trouble putting a lot of weight on his right foot, but there’s not really anything we can do for that because it isn’t actually broken, just badly bruised. We’re going to send him home with crutches, but someone might want to stay with him for tonight, if one of you is comfortable with that.”

“I’ll stay with him,” I offered before anyone else could open their mouths. Emily’s eyes snapped to mine, and I cleared my throat, trying not to sound too eager, “If he’s ok with that, of course. I’ll have to ask him.”

The doctor just nodded. “Sounds good. Whoever is in charge here can see the front desk for further information.”

Gideon started towards the front desk, gesturing for Hotch to follow him as they went to talk to some people, leaving me standing in front of Garcia, Morgan, Prentiss, and JJ, all of whom were looking at me with varying looks of suspicion. Except Emily, who just looked vaguely amused.

“Anything you want to talk to us about, Glenn?” JJ asked. 

“Nothing at all,” I denied, trying to fight the small smile on my face. I could tell just by looking at them that they all knew, at this point it was hard not to at least assume. Not to mention they were all experts in human behavior - let’s just say it was hard to hide things from them. But JJ just shook her head with a shallow laugh, returning to her seat. However, she quickly stood back up when Spencer came around the corner, supporting his weight with a pair of plain gray crutches. 

“Spence,” She immediately crossed the room to him, looking him over with concern, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” He offered her a small smile, but it wasn’t real. We all knew it, and she pulled

him into a hug, being careful not to make him fall. 

“I should’ve never let you go off on your own. I’m so sorry -” She started to apologize, but he cut her off. 

“JJ, stop. It’s not your fault; splitting up was my idea. No one had any way of knowing what was going to happen. I mean, there was a 50-50 shot that either of us could’ve run into him, we had no evidence he’d even left the barn at all.”

She let out a shaky breath, nodding. “I’m just glad you’re ok.”

“Me too.”

“We’re going to go back to the BAU so everyone can get their cars.”

He nodded his understanding, and he gave everyone a hug before Hotch and Gideon came back from the front desk. As much as he tried to appear normal, the events of the past two days hung heavy in the air. And we only knew what we saw on the videos, we had no idea the extent of what he’d gone through. I don’t know if we ever would. 

Even just the fact that he was hugging people was a testament to the way he was feeling. He usually didn’t even like to shake hands, but he was clinging to our friends like they were the only thing keeping him grounded. 

Hotch and Gideon rounded the corner, Hotch’s face softening the moment he saw Spencer, pulling him into another hug. 

“Alright, let’s get back to the BAU so you can go home and get some rest,” Gideon said. Spencer nodded, all of us piling back into the two vans we’d taken to Tobias Hankel’s house. JJ shot me a look before climbing into the passenger seat, allowing me to take her place in the back with Spencer, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the car. Once we started driving, I turned and whispered to him. 

“I wanted to come back home with you. Is that ok?” I asked. He gave me a small nod, and I smiled, giving his arm a squeeze. I desperately wanted to press a soft kiss to his lips, but I had already been way too physically affectionate with him today for us being at work. 

We all went our separate ways, though it was clear that everyone was reluctant to let Spencer out of their sight again. I reminded them I’d be with him, and promised that I’d update them once he fell asleep so they knew everyone was ok. It might’ve been selfish of me, but I was excited to be alone with him. I just wanted to be able to comfort him without having to worry about if everyone thought we were dating. 

To be fair, we technically weren’t dating. We’d never really defined the relationship.

We elected to take my car, since I was going to be driving. The more time we spent away from the group, the more I saw Spencer retreating. We walked to the car in silence, and he climbed in the passenger seat, zoning out staring through the windshield.

I reached over and gave his hand a light squeeze.

“I love you babe. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” I told him. He didn’t move his gaze, just squeezed my hand back in response before allowing me to return both hands to the wheel. We drove the rest of the way home with no sound but the radio turned down to a low volume. When I finally pulled into the parking lot for his apartment complex, he didn’t even blink. I turned the car off, going around to the other side to help him out of the car and into his apartment.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat? Or some water?” I offered as I unlocked the front door. He just shook his head.

“I just want to go to sleep.”

“You need to shower, Spencer.”

He nodded again, allowing me to lead him to the bathroom. 

“Do you think you can stand? Or do you want me to draw you a bath?” I asked. 

“Bath would be better,” He said, propping his crutches up against the sink. I knew he hadn’t broken his foot, but he still winced as he put more of his weight on it so that he could pull off his sweater and begin to unbutton the shirt he had on underneath it. 

“You’re ok with me being in here?” I had assumed he would be, but I wanted to clarify as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off. He just nodded, starting to undo his pants as I filled the bath with warm water. I shut the water off when it was filled enough that he could sit comfortably in it, and I held his arm, helping him sink into the warm water. 

“Do you want my help babe?” I asked. He nodded again, still not speaking. I didn’t try to press him with any conversation, I just slipped out of my work clothes and slid into the bath next to him, grabbing the washcloth from the side of the bathtub and dipping it in the warm water, lathering up the soap and starting to gently wash along his shoulders, scrubbing away the dirt and grime. He winced when I got to his wrists, and I noticed that the skin was rubbed raw, red from where he’d been restrained. I drew in a shaky breath, unsure of whether or not I was going to cry or punch someone. Instead, I just planted a soft kiss on his lips before washing down the rest of his body. 

I put the washcloth away and moved on to his hair, moving so that my chest was pressed to his back. I lathered the shampoo through his hair, and he sunk back against me, his eyes closing from the gentle touch. 

“You’re safe with me, baby. I’ve got you,” I whispered reassurances in his ear, trying to help him relax as I finished cleaning him up. “How’s your head?”

My eyes had flashed up to the bandaged gash on his forehead, and I reached one hand up to gently brush his hair back away from it. He had opened his eyes now, just staring at the water, not really here. His voice was barely above a whisper, and it broke my heart. 

“It hurts,” He murmured.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” I said, holding him closer to me as if it could somehow soothe his pain, both physically and mentally. “I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Didn’t I?”

The question took me by surprise, and I didn’t even have a chance to protest before he elaborated.

“I abandoned my mother. I could’ve helped her - I mean, I could’ve learned to help her. Instead I sent her away… he told me to confess my sins. And when I thought of my sins, all I could see was her face. I left her, Aria.”

“Spencer. Look at me.” I lightly put my hand under his chin, guiding him to meet my eyes. “Your mother needed help from a medical professional, someone who was specialized in understanding her condition. You didn’t abandon her - Spencer, you helped her. It’s not a sin to get someone the help that they need.”

“I know that. Logically, I know that. But…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say anymore. I just nodded.

“I know, baby. But you didn’t deserve what Hankel did to you. You’re a good person, Spencer Reid. One of the best I know, and I’m not just saying that because I’m in love with you. You really are an incredible man, and,” I bit my lip, forcing back the tears that were stinging my eyes, “And you deserved so much better than this.”

He didn’t reply, he just leaned forward, kissing me again. It was harder this time, like he was putting all his feelings into moving his lips against mine. I kissed him back with just as much emotion, trying to tell him how much I loved him without saying anything at all. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close to me for a moment.

“Spencer, you have no idea how grateful I am for you.”

“And I for you,” He replied semi-dramatically, making me grin and bringing a small smile to his face. It wasn’t much, but it was something positive. 

“Alright Shakespeare, let me get dried off and then I’ll help you out,” I teased, grabbing my towel off the hook and drying my damp hair before wrapping it around myself and grabbing his hand, helping him up and guiding him to lean up against the sink while I grabbed his towel and offered it to him. 

“I don’t even have the energy to correct the historical inaccuracy of your Shakespeare joke,” He said, drying himself off as I left the bathroom to grab pajamas from his dresser. I grabbed him one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, and I grabbed myself one of his sweaters, slipping it on before going back into the bathroom and giving him the clothes I’d grabbed, hanging my towel back up as he changed.

When I turned back, he’d put on the pajamas, and was in the process of grabbing his crutches. With every move, his expression changed, betraying just how much pain he was in. I put my hand on his shoulder, supporting him as he made his way back out to his room, immediately sitting down on the bed and letting the crutches fall to the ground. 

“Son of a bitch,” He muttered. I just sat down next to him, putting my arm around him so he could lean his head on my shoulder. 

“Hey. You’re alright,” I held him close to me, rubbing his shoulder in a slight comfort. 

“I’m tired,” He yawned, and I nodded. 

He stretched out on the bed behind me, and I scooted over next to him, pulling the comforter over both of us. 

“Can I hold you, baby?” I asked. He nodded, and I curled up against him, holding him tight to my chest. I tucked my head into the crook of his neck from behind, feeling his steady breathing against me. 

It didn’t really surprise me when I felt his breathing pick up - I assumed his mind would probably wander once he had quiet time to think - but it made my heart wrench when I heard him crying softly. 

“Spencer…” I pulled him closer to me, running one hand through his hair and placing soft kisses along his jawline, trailing down his neck. There was nothing sexual about it, simply gentle affection as he cried. 

He rolled over suddenly so he was facing me, immediately crushing me in a tight hug, crying openly into my shoulder. I continued to run one of my hands through his hair, the other gently tracing slow circles on his back under his shirt, trying to ground him as he attempted to process everything he’d gone through. 

“You’re safe with me baby. I’m never letting anything happen to you again, I promise.”

“You can’t make a promise like that,” He argued through his tears, “No one can make a promise like that. You know our line of work; there’s no way you can ensure my safety.”

“That’s true,” I conceded, “But as long as I have any say in it, I will protect you. And that’s a promise.”

His crying had quieted, and he sniffled, nodding into my shoulder. I kept him close to me, and eventually he drifted off to sleep, tears still staining his face. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #reid #fanfiction #writing #fanfic writer #spencer reid hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #angst #spencer reid angst #bau #bau fanfiction #female mc #spencer reid x female mc #season two spencer reid #season two reid #spencer reid x fem!mc #criminal minds angst #criminal minds hurt/comfort #tobias hankel #tw: violence #tw: kidnapping #tw: trauma #baby reid #revelations #revelations criminal minds

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 6,196

Chapter Warnings: swearing, implied s.uidical ideation, non-graphic panic attack

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur frankly has no idea how a reunion with his father is supposed to go, considering the circumstances. Also, a ghost makes an appearance.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Three: listening for that angel choir

He comes to awareness violently, lurching into a sitting position, his hand outstretched before him. He is silent, but that’s probably only because he trained himself to be, back when they were so afraid of someone finding where they were, down in that dark, hidden ravine, stone on all sides and darkness above, closing in. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about,

(fire all around and the world falling to pieces and it’s all so very beautiful, and the worst thing is Tommy’s horrified face but he’s too far gone to care)

but the vestiges cling to him like cobwebs, difficult to shake off. He takes a moment to steady himself, to bring his breathing back under control, and then looks around, the remembrance of where he is coming swiftly. Technoblade’s living room is unchanged from last night, but there is no sign of Technoblade himself.

There is, however, someone in the kitchen.

He can smell food—eggs, he thinks. There’s someone moving around, their tread light and sure, and he knows those footsteps, knows them like he knows his own name.

He is standing before he can think better of it, and it is habit that keeps his own strides silent. He walks to the doorway of the kitchen and stops there, stops because there is a man at the stove, his back turned to him, but Wilbur doesn’t need to see his face to know him. He never has.

Something about this picture is wrong, though, and he doesn’t know what it is. He’s seen this a thousand times, if not in this setting, has woken up to this exact thing on countless occasions, back in their old home, back before Techno started going off to tournaments, before Tommy and he left to make their own ways, before Phil started spending more and more time on hardcore worlds, out of contact. Before all of that, it was just this, just Phil making them all breakfast in the sun-soaked morning.

Something about it is wrong, and he can’t pick it out, and he can’t stand here forever. He could leave, could turn his back and slip out the front door when no one is watching, but that won’t be well-received, and he hardly wants to be followed. That really only gives him one other option, and it’s ridiculous, how fast his heart is beating, because it’s just Phil.

(it’s just Phil, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? just Phil, and you can’t face him, not after what he did, not after what you made him do)

It’s just Phil.

So he leans against the doorway, and he clears his throat.

Phil whirls around, spatula raised.

(was he always on such a hair trigger? or is that new?)

He lowers it after a split second, his face flickering through several expressions too fast for Wilbur to process. Eventually, he settles on a warm smile, but there is something lurking around the edges, something that he is hiding, though Wilbur has no hope of figuring out what. For some reason, this doesn’t feel like seeing Techno again at all. With Techno, it barely took a moment for old patterns to resurface, barely took a moment to remember how to read him, but with Phil, it’s almost like looking at the face of a stranger.

(did you think he’d be the same? did you think he would be unaffected? even the most stable of anchors rusts eventually, exposed to the deep water)

“Wilbur!” Phil says, and he could weep to hear the sound of his voice, even though it hasn’t been that long, not technically. Not that long since the last time Ghostbur spoke to him. “Good morning! Did you sleep alright?”

He thinks about his nightmares and decides not to say anything.

“Pretty alright,” he says, and then adds, belatedly, “Good morning.”

The words come out awkwardly. It’s too casual, too normal, and everything that’s happened since the last time they ate breakfast together is sitting in the air between them, about as unobtrusive as a flashing creeper and just as dangerous. There’s too much left unsaid, and he has no idea how to go about fixing that.

So he just keeps standing there. Silently. And Phil stands there too, just as silent, just as watchful, just as awkward, and perhaps Wilbur should take comfort in the fact that he, too, seems to have no idea what to do. But he finds no room for comfort within himself, only a vague resentment, because wasn’t Phil planning to bring him back anyway? Just what was his plan for afterward, if he had managed to succeed? Was it this? This silence, this hesitance, this painful awareness of the distance between them, of all the things that went so bitterly, terribly wrong?

If this was his plan, Wilbur can’t say that he’s all that impressed with it.

But then, Phil steps forward. Only a bit, and slowly, as if he’s approaching a startled animal. Wilbur would be angry at the implication if he didn’t feel like he was one, if there weren’t something snarling and desperate caged within his ribcage, calling for him to either fight or flee.

“Would it—” Phil starts, and then stops, and it’s odd, because Wilbur doesn’t remember his father ever being so hesitant. Phil’s confidence has always been quiet, but at the same time unmistakable, and that makes this so very strange. “Would it be alright if I hugged you?” he goes on to say, and Wilbur’s brain stutters to a halt.

He can’t help but remember

(the spatula becomes a sword and his great creation is in ruins around him and he is laughing and sobbing and wild and everything is spiraling, spiraling, and what a glorious destruction it is, a beautiful chaos, and the center cannot hold and he is begging pleading shouting and there are tears streaming down his father’s face and an awful waver in his voice, but the sword is in his chest and he can feel nothing but relief, relief, relief, it’s over now, you can rest, your symphony is not finished never finished but it is over at long last, good night, good night and goodbye)

the last time Phil held him.

But that was then, and this is now,

(isn’t it?)

and Phil is watching him with an expression that might be either desperation or hunger, masked behind a slight smile, and that is what drives him to nod, what drives him to open his arms slightly, and then Phil is embracing him, and—

The mess in his head goes quiet. Just for a second, his father is enough to drive his demons away.

And it’s like fireworks on his skin, fireworks at first and then an all-encompassing warmth, and he doesn’t fit into Phil’s arms quite the same as he did when he was a child, is taller, older, cobbled-together pieces of the bright future he used to have, but something in him recognizes this feeling, recognizes it as safety, as comfort, as home. He slumps a bit, melting into the touch, and Phil doesn’t complain at suddenly holding up half of his weight, just adjusts his position a bit and grips him tightly, like he thinks that Wilbur might disappear if he lets go.

“God, Wil,” Phil murmurs. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

Wilbur closes his eyes against the words. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Phil that he isn’t. Even if for a moment, he can pretend. Pretend that this was his idea, that he’s alright with this, that what he wishes more than anything else isn’t to escape back into rest and away from this world that is too bright and too sharp and too laden with consequences.

“It’s good to see you,” he says instead, and that, at least, is mostly honest.

His hands are clutching the back of Phil’s shirt, entangled in the fabric, and beneath his hands, he can feel Phil’s wings shifting. It is then that he realizes what he didn’t, earlier: Phil is hiding his wings, and that is what is wrong, because Phil never does that around the house. Never.

Though, come to think of it, Ghostbur never saw him with his wings out either. Not once.

Did Ghostbur ever question it? Did he ask and then forget about it, because the answer upset him? Or did he just not bother, presuming that Phil had his reasons and that everything was alright? That sounds like something Ghostbur would do, and for a moment, he is overwhelmed by a seething rage at his dead counterpart, because why couldn’t he ever be useful—

(better to be useless and happy than alive and miserable and the cause of everyone else’s misery to boot, better to forget than to remember, better to let it all go and float away in the wind with the dandelions and the blue blue sky)

“Are you alright?” Phil asks, and he realizes that he’s balled his hands into fists. He pulls away from the hug, steps back to meet Phil’s eyes, pretends that the sudden lack of contact doesn’t leave him feeling bereft.

He tries for a smile. He doesn’t think he manages very well. His skin feels as though it’s stretching oddly, as though it’s forgotten the proper shape for the expression.

“I’m fine,” he says, and that—that is a lie. That is a lie for sure. But what else is he supposed to say?

The wings—or lack thereof—are bothering him. Now that he’s spotted their absence, he can’t unsee it. He’s not sure how to ask, though, because he has the sneaking suspicion that

(he shielded you you idiot shielded you from your own explosion from your own destruction don’t you remember don’t you remember the way he cried out and the feathers in the air and he was holding you holding you don’t you remember don’t you remember how he tried to protect you even to the last don’t you remember)

there’s something about it that he’s not understanding, still, and he hates this, hates not even being able to trust to his own recollections, but he supposes that’s what he gets for his troubles. A beating heart and a mind full of holes and a wide open world that feels like a cage and a precarious stability that he thinks might go out from under him at any moment, like sand into a hidden ravine, and he’ll be sent down, down, down—

“Oh, great,” Techno says, and Wilbur jerks, wheeling around. He hadn’t heard him—but then, Techno has always been able to move far more silently than ought to be possible for someone with such a terrifying presence, with such a weight to his blood-soaked step. “You guys are being weird, aren’t you?”

He blinks.

“What?”

“We’re not being weird, what are you on about?”

His voice overlaps with Phil’s, and it’s a bit weird.

Techno snorts, stepping further into the kitchen. “Don’t be weird in my house, you guys,” he says. “If you’ve gotta be weird, do it somewhere else. I can’t take this.”

“What, the great Technoblade can’t handle an awkward social situation?” he says, and there is more bite to his voice than he intends, and Techno hears it, judging by the way his lips twist into a scowl.

“You know I can’t,” he says. “I hate socializing.”

What should have been a joke has turned into something that is—not. Wilbur should have known better than to push, maybe, should have known better than to call Techno out, because Techno does hate socializing, does hate being forced into awkward situations, hates an enemy that he cannot defeat with his sword. But then, none of that is quite right either, because awkward social situations are one thing. This should be quite another. Because they’re family, or at least, they’re meant to be, and no amount of awkwardness should be able to outweigh that. And yet, here they are, Techno glaring and Phil quiet and Wilbur suppressing the urge to bolt from the room and start sprinting across the tundra.

Staying the night was a mistake. Not leaving when he could was a bigger one. He’s not sure what he was thinking.

(he does, he does know what he was thinking, and he was thinking that he wanted things to be the way they used to be, if he was going to be alive, if he was going to be forced to live in this world once again, he wanted a family that was strong and steady and whole, not the fractured mess that this is, not fragmented and separated and snapping at one another’s throats)

“I’m making breakfast,” Phil puts in. He seems so very weary. Wilbur’s not sure why he’s only picking up on that now, but the bags under his eyes could probably pass for bruises. “Techno, Wil, how about you sit down? The eggs’ll be off in just a few minutes.”

Techno huffs, shooting Wilbur one last glare. But then, he does as Phil asks, sidling past to sit at the dining table, the chair legs making an awful scraping sound against the floor.

Wilbur remains standing.

“C’mon, Wilbur, come sit down,” Techno says. “I want eggs.”

Something shifts. His blood is buzzing, like his veins have been replaced with live wires. It’s a picture of domesticity, father making breakfast and son waiting for it, and he belonged here once but now he’s a piece that doesn’t fit, his edges worn away and grown out wrong.

(they shouldn’t fit either, and it’s wrong that they do, wrong that they’re comfortable with this even when the picture is incomplete and Tommy isn’t here)

“I’m not staying,” he blurts out. He doesn’t know he’s going to say it until he does. And once he does, it’s out there, and he can’t take it back. But he doesn’t think he would if he could. It’s the truth, even if he’s only just discovering it. He’s not staying. He can’t.

Phil has turned back to the stove, but Wilbur can see the way his back goes stiff, the way his shoulders hunch, just a little.

“It’s breakfast,” Techno says slowly, almost bewildered, if Techno did bewilderment. He doesn’t, usually, but perhaps that’s another thing that’s changed sometime between Wilbur’s death and now. “You can’t stay for breakfast?”

“I can make something else, if you don’t want eggs,” Phil murmurs. Wilbur barely catches the words.

“It’s not about the eggs and you know it,” he snaps, and then stops to take a breath. Phil is silent. “Look, I wasn’t even planning on being here as long as I have been. Where’s Tommy?”

“At his old home, I think,” Techno says. He is holding himself very still, watching Wilbur very carefully, and viciously, cruelly, Wilbur considers making the attack that he is so clearly expecting. Considers leaping across the table and going for his throat, rolling around on the ground like they did when they were kids, playing, roughhousing, sparring, only this wouldn’t be any of those things. He wouldn’t be able to defeat Technoblade, of course, but he’d be able to get a good few licks in, even if he doesn’t have a real reason to do so,

(he wasn’t there for Tommy he left Tommy alone left him to that monster’s mercy he abandoned him and even when Tommy came to him he discarded him again tossed him aside as if they weren’t raised together weren’t brothers as if none of it meant anything at all he spawned withers in L’manberg and destroyed it destroyed it all destroyed even what it stood for and there won’t be any coming back from that)

even if his rage is aimless, directionless, building in him like a volcano begging to erupt, begging to destroy everything in its path, to delight in the carnage and—

He’s felt like this before. He’s felt like this before, and it didn’t end well, and it set the stage for all of Tommy’s suffering, and if that’s not a reason to try to hold back, he doesn’t know what is.

“That’s not what I was asking,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m asking you why he’s not here. You don’t see a problem with it?”

“We’re not on the best terms with Tommy at the moment,” Phil says quietly, and Wilbur wishes he would turn around so he could see his expression, but for now he’ll settle for glowering at his back.

(where was the father when his son needed him the most? not there, not there, never there, and what happened to the father who raised them, to the father who promised he would always be by their sides?)

“And whose fault is that?” he demands. “He’s a fucking kid, Phil! He needed someone in his corner, literally anyone, and I’m sorry, but the fucking amnesiac ghost couldn’t quite cut it!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Phil asks. “Do you really think I don’t have any regrets? That I wouldn’t give anything to have him here, safe with us?” Phil wheels around, then, and usually, in times past, such a motion would be accompanied by a flaring of wings, an instinctive response, but there are no wings behind him, and without them he looks so very small. Once again, Wilbur is struck with that overwhelming sense of wrongness. “I know damn well that I failed him, Wil, that I failed all of you. You don’t need to tell me. I already know.”

“Phil, wait, no—” Techno starts, but Phil shakes his head.

“I have, Techno, don’t try to deny it. I’ve failed you all, and the worst bit is that even when I had chances to try to fix things, I didn’t take them. Haven’t taken them.” He meets Wilbur’s eyes. “All I can do about that is apologize. I am sorry, truly. But Tommy doesn’t want to see me. He’s made that clear, both after you died and after Techno and I destroyed L’Manberg. If you’ve got ideas, Wilbur, I’m open to them.”

And really, what is he supposed to say to that? His rage shrivels up, becoming something cold and hard and acrid on his tongue. Phil believes what he’s saying, that much is clear, and perhaps that’s the most disappointing thing of all, that he’s given up so easily, given up on keeping their family together.

(part of him understands. part of him understands that in the wake of everything, in the wake of his father murdering one of his sons and alienating the other, of course he would retreat to the third, to the one who was still there, to the one he thought he could still help. part of him understands the way that he clings to Techno, unwilling to lose, in his eyes, the only son he had left to him. part of him understands why Phil always takes Techno’s side)

(but part of him whispers, bitter and sharp, that Techno has always been the favorite. so was it ever really a choice, between Techno and Tommy? did he lose sleep over it, any time during the late watches of the night? or was he secure in his opinion that he’d done all that he could do, even though he never tried to do more?)

“I need to go,” he says, and braces himself for their renewed protests. But Techno is silent, and at length, Phil nods once, short and sharp.

“Will you be coming back?” he asks, and Wilbur gives the question due consideration.

“Maybe,” he says. “We’ll see.”

Phil closes his eyes. Nods again.

“Okay,” he says. “Please be safe.”

It’s as close to a blessing as he’s going to get, as close to an understanding as they will reach, and somehow, it sounds like more of an apology than anything else Phil has said. And if, for his own peace of mind, Wilbur has to pretend that he doesn’t hear how wrecked Phil sounds, how he seems to have aged another five years in the past five minutes, well.

“I’ll try,” he says, and he’s not sure whether he means it or not, and he thinks that if he stays here any longer, in this small kitchen with eggs on the stove and his father standing in front of him like he’s pronouncing a death sentence and his brother glaring balefully from one side, he will lose his resolve.

He’s angry, but he doesn’t want to hurt them. Not really. That compulsion is gone, it seems, washed away in the peace of the void, and only time will tell if it will return, now that he’s been ripped back into existence.

But in the end, hurting them is the thing he knows how to do best.

So he leaves. Nods once, sharply, turns on his heel, and walks toward the front door, grabbing his coat as he goes. It’s not in the same spot he left it in last night, is draped near the crackling fire, and there’s only two people who could have placed it there and Phil wasn’t there by the time he fell asleep, he knows, and his mind recalls the sensation of a blanket being draped over him. That is enough to get him to stop, to pause.

But not to stay.

The sunlight is cold, but he barely feels it at all.

----------

He manages to make it out of the tundra before he breaks down.

He wasn’t expecting it, even though he probably should have been, but it doesn’t matter either way, because he blinks and he’s on the ground, hands braced against wet grass, heaving for breath because this is so fucking fucked up—

It was a mistake. Going to Technoblade was a mistake, because now he and Phil both know that he’s back and he just walked out on them and he’s so angry at them for so many things but now they’re probably angry right back and when the fuck did his family get so fucking broken? And now he’s here, in the forest again, and he’s all on his own

(but he’s not on his own and there are so many eyes watching him)

(he is on his own because there’s no one to stand with him, no one brave enough, no one who truly sees)

(he is on his own because he’s pushed everyone else away and even at his lowest point there was a voice in the back of his mind screaming for him to stop to walk away to take a step back and gain some fucking perspective but there’s no one there for him and it’s all his fault)

(he is on his own even though Tommy is still there, despite everything, because even Tommy is wary of him now and that same voice tells him that he deserves it even as he denies it all and decries his little brother for a traitor)

(but he’s not on his own)

and his empty stomach is rolling and he can’t fucking manage to get a good breath in, and this might be how he dies again, and he doesn’t think he would mind all that much if it was because he still doesn’t want to be here, with all the cares and all the worries and all the responsibilities piling up on his back once again, and who the fuck thought this was a good idea? Who the absolute, ever-loving fuck took a look at what he did last time, took a look at how he cracked under the strain and blew up a city, and thought that it was a good idea to bring him back into the world?

In fairytales, when monsters die, no one brings them back. The victory is celebrated and the villain forgotten and their grave spat on. Wilbur never got a grave, but the principle should be the same.

He still can’t breathe properly. He’s gasping for air, but he can barely hear himself over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He might die here. He might die here, and he’d be mostly fine with that, if it weren’t for—

Tommy.

It’s probably Tommy’s fault that he’s here. Probably Tommy who—got Dream to resurrect him, and he really does need the details about that. But he still wants to see him, still wants to see his brother, and the original plan holds true. Find Tommy, then kill Dream, and maybe then he can think about his options. He can’t allow himself to die here, even if he feels like he’s going to, like his ribs are going to crack apart and his brain pound right out of his skull.

(and even besides all of that, what would Tommy think if he saw the message on his communicator, saw WilburSoot died without any context at all, without knowing that he was back in the first place?)

It’s easier when there’s someone there to help him. But he has no one, so he regulates his breathing himself, little by little, his progress set back every time a new wave of panic and desperation crests over him and makes him choke on air. But he does it. It’s not pretty, but he does it, and after some time, he’s kneeling in the grass, exhausted and wrung out and still here, for better or for worse.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck!” Each one increases in volume, and by the last one, he’s shouting. No one answers. He thinks he startles a few birds.

And then the forest is silent. He curls his fists into the grass, tearing up a few blades.

To the side, there is a flash of blue.

The hair on the back of his neck stands up.

(there’s something he’s forgetting)

“Who’s there?” he calls, his voice rough and hoarse. “You’ve been following me, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Come out where I can see you!”

He gets no response, but he can’t say that he was expecting one. He clambers to his feet, sighing sharply through his nose.

(there’s something he’s forgetting something was it something he said to Tommy what was it)

“Last warning,” he says. “Come out. Or I’ll make you.”

It’s an empty threat, said with more confidence than he feels. But he has to be right about this, has to be, or else he’s been hallucinating, has been letting his paranoia get the best of him already, again, and if that’s going to be the case, maybe Tommy really would be better off without him there, because he refuses to go down that same road now that he knows where it leads.

(even though part of him still yearns for it, yearns to go to hell and take everything with him)

(it was something he said to Tommy, in that moment when the veil between worlds was thin and he could see his brother there, plain as day, sitting on that bench with Tubbo at his side, and Tommy said Dream could bring him back and he said no fucking thank you and also that)

“Aw, you been pining for me, Wilbur?” someone says, and it all falls into place.

(he wasn’t alone. he wasn’t alone in the void. as much as he might have liked to be, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise. he wasn’t alone. not then, and not)

He pivots, and uses the momentum to send his fist right into Schlatt’s stupid, smug face.

And it passes right though him. It’s a strange sensation, one that sends sparks of electricity up his arm and feels a bit like dozens of tiny firecrackers are going off. For a split second, there is a bit of resistance, and then a give that sends him stumbling forward, off balance.

“Did that make you feel better?” Schlatt asks.

“Fuck you,” he snaps, stepping back. “What the fuck are you—what are you wearing?”

Wilbur doesn’t think he’s ever seen Schlatt wear anything but his signature suit and tie. Not since they were young, anyway, young and stupid and ready to take on the world,

(for each other, and where did that fall through?)

so painfully ignorant of everything to come. But the Schlatt in front of him is not the Schlatt he knows, not quite, is off in so many subtle ways and one big one. His pallor is grey, his horns chipped and cracked, his hair mussed and disarrayed, but all of that is overshadowed by the oversized blue sweater, a horrible parody of Ghostbur’s yellow one, and honestly, Wilbur wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what it’s meant to be.

“What, you don’t like it?” Schlatt smiles, more a baring of teeth than anything else, and—his teeth didn’t use to be so pointy, right? “I think it’s a fashion statement. All the rage with ghosts these days.” He steps back, and the movement is wrong; it’s so obvious that his feet have no real traction on the ground, that he’s moving in the same way that Wilbur remembers Ghostbur doing, willing himself into the new space rather than working dead muscles.

(funny, though, that Schlatt would at least pretend to walk, would at least pretend at some semblance of normalcy. Ghostbur almost never did, was always content to float around and disregard the unease he caused, to hand out blue and avoid any confrontation that might make him uncomfortable. but then, Ghostbur was completely happy to be the way that he was)

“You’re an arsehole,” Wilbur grits out. “The fuck are you doing here?”

And just like that, the pretense is gone. Schlatt rises into the air, tilting forward, though he keeps his eyes level with Wilbur’s, scowling ferociously. He’s a bit transparent around the edges, Wilbur notes absently, a bit fuzzy, like he’s dissolving into the air bit by bit.

“You think I want to be?” Schlatt says. “You think I wanna be here, Wilbur, really? I had all the booze I could possibly want and none of the pitfalls, and now I’m here, in this shitty world with all the shitty people I never wanted to see again, and I can’t even fucking touch anything!”

His hand lashes out, and Wilbur flinches on instinct, but it passes through his shoulder harmlessly. There is the strange electric sensation again, but other than that, nothing.

“You think this is what I want?” he continues. “I’m fucking dead and I want to stay that way. None of this haunting bullshit. My business here is fucking finished. Over. Done. I don’t want to be here.” He pauses, and it’s for effect, because he doesn’t need to breathe, he’s just a dramatic arsehole. “And yet, whatever asshole dragged you back down here caught me too. I’m just as thrilled about it as you are, but I can’t figure out how to get back. So that’s a fucking, I don’t know. Fucking karma, maybe. How’ve you been?”

Wilbur stares at him for a moment. He starts laughing before he can stop himself, hysterical gusts, torn from him like someone is reaching into his chest and squeezing his lungs out, and he doubles over, bracing himself against his knees.

“Oh my god,” he eventually manages. “I don’t wanna fucking be here either. This is so fucked.”

Schlatt is silent for a moment, and the only sound is the last of Wilbur’s laughter, dying down into desperate chuckles. It’s not funny, not funny at all, but it’s either laugh or have another breakdown, and he’s filled his break down quota for the hour.

“I figured,” Schlatt says, calmer now, quieter. He drifts back down so his feet at least appear to be touching the ground. “I figured, I knew you didn’t want to—fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair and sighs, and once again, Wilbur is struck by the action. It’s for effect, or perhaps it’s just habit, but either way, the dead don’t need to breathe. Can’t, really, though they can go through the motions if they put the effort in.

“You’re the worst and I hate you,” he says, and there is absolutely no heat in it at all. “Why are you here?”

Schlatt looks at him incredulously. “I just said—”

“No, I mean here.” He gestures. “With me. Unless you have to be, or something like that.”

“Nah, I can walk away from you,” Schlatt says wryly. “Believe me, that’s the first thing I tried. But where the fuck else do you think I’m gonna go, Wilbur? You think I’ve got anybody waiting for me with open arms? That’s ridiculous.” He pauses. “Also, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can see me. I did a little tap dance routine for Technoblade earlier and got absolutely nothing, so.”

“What?”

“No, yeah, see? I can go invisible, like this, and hide from you,” Schlatt says, completely ignoring what his question was actually about, the bastard. And then, he vanishes, like he was never—wait. No, he’s still there, but Wilbur can only tell if he’s not looking directly at him. And even then, it’s just a faint shimmering, and an almost transparent splash of the color blue. “I can tell I’m invisible when I do that. But when I do this—” He reappears, his arms crossed— “no one else can see me. Except you, apparently. Make my fucking day, why don’t you.”

“Gladly,” he replies automatically. “Wait, why is that even a thing?”

“You’re asking me?” Schlatt demands. “How am I supposed to know? You’re the one who was a ghost for months, you should know how this works!”

“I really don’t,” he says. “And besides, Ghostbur wasn’t actually me. Just a fragment. A shadow.”

“Real poetic,” Schlatt mutters, and, well. Wilbur doesn’t have much to say to that.

They stand there in silence for a moment. Or rather, Wilbur stands, and Schlatt drifts about half an inch off the ground, the soles of his shoes brushing the grass. He briefly considers whether attempting to punch him in the face again would be worth it or not, but dismisses the idea. Dismisses it a lot more easily than he should, actually.

“I feel like I’m not as angry with you as I definitely should be,” he says.

“Well, I’m fucking pissed,” Schlatt says, and then, after a moment, adds, “Not so much at you, though. I mean, I am. But not more than I am at the general everything. Do you remember much of the—the you know?”

He

(darkness all around and a howling emptiness but so much better than the world so much more peaceful and after a while the void felt like an embrace, felt like coming home)

(Schlatt was loud and irritating and the clink of his whiskey glasses made him want to kill him all over again but it was a break from the monotony and it was nice, sometimes, to have someone to talk to, someone who understood if only a little, someone with whom he didn’t have to hide his shattered edges in favor of painting a prettier picture)

(empty and not and there is no death for the already-dead so the only thing to do is come to an understanding)

doesn’t, not really, only recalls a general sense of peace, the rest that he so craved, attained at least. And he knows that Schlatt was there, too, knows it, but while he remembers talking to Tommy, that one time, he can’t remember if he ever actually spoke to Schlatt. Evidence is pointing toward the affirmative, he thinks.

“Not much,” he says. “Do you?”

“I remember it was better than here,” Schlatt says. He kicks at the ground, and scowls when his foot won’t make contact with anything substantial. “I had all the booze I could’ve wanted. Sure, none of it was real, but that didn’t matter much. I’d kill to have a drink right now. Literally, I would murder someone.”

“Good luck with that,” he says.

“Shut the fuck your mouth.”

“I’m planning on seeing Dream,” he says, ignoring that. “After I find Tommy, anyway. I’ll make him tell me what he did to bring me back. And you, too, I suppose, assuming it was the same thing. Why are you a ghost when I’m not?”

“You keep asking me these questions like you expect me to know the answers,” Schlatt says. He levels his glare at him, but it doesn’t look very angry. Just tired. Wilbur knows the feeling. “Ask him to send me back, how about? I don’t want to fucking be here.”

His eyes slip shut. “Neither do I,” he says, and it’s more of a confession than it has any right to be. His tone matches Schlatt’s: tired, exhausted, weary, wrung out, sick of everything.

When he opens his eyes, Schlatt is gone. There is no sign of blue, no shimmer in the air. He’s really gone, then, but he assumes he’ll be back. For better or for worse.

He sighs, gathers himself, and resumes his march through the forest, looking for Tommy.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #jschlatt #alivebur #glatt #/rp #cat writes fic #long post

[lollytea]

Fearless (part 2/3)

( PART ONE okokok some parts of this are pretty good. some not so good. but the important part is im tryin my goddamn best out here.)

[OCTOBER 22ND, 7:02PM] The sun had melted away beneath the distant hills and Louie had somewhat calmed himself down.

At least, he was no longer hyperventilating. The feathery tufts on his cheeks were not as fluffy as before, now clumped together from his waterworks earlier. 

He lit the last of his lights, drawing the match away and allowed the head of the flame to seize its last moments. It danced with delight, flickering as it devoured the thin strand of poplar wood.

Louie watched it too long, finding solace in the glow of gentle orange. Just as it was teasing to taste his fingertips, he snuffed it out, not nearly as interested in the arising string of pale smoke. Seven illuminated oil lamps circled his room, washing him in warm, yellow light. But still, It would breed an array of shadows, outlining everything with subtle pools of gloom. Shadows made Louie uneasy. They gave him the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Reminded him of people and powers that were best not to think about. But a shadowy room was preferable to pitch black. He was scared of the dark. Come to think of it, he was scared of a lot of things. Louie had a complicated relationship with fear. He was, by no means, the skittish kid from five years ago. He simply couldn't live with that mindset for long when thrust into the life of McDuck royalty and all the madness and danger attached. So, he adapted. His busiest days tended to fall in the order of breakfast, adventure, magic, certain doom, barely escaping with your life and then sleep. Rinse and repeat. Living like that didn't phase him much anymore. How could it when he was surrounded by the most courageous family put on this earth? And when you continue to survive when that was your Day-to-Day, it had a tendency to boost your confidence. He had gotten braver for sure. Much braver. And yet, he couldn't help but feel like he was lying to himself sometimes. Being afraid of the world around him had never quite faded, he just gotten much better at handling it. Recent years made things all the more messy. His brothers weren't as brave as they used to be these days. Not after what they went through. As a spot of hope, Huey was starting to rebuild a stronger, improved version of his old self. But Dewey still needed time. It made Louie wonder if his intrepid brothers could be broken like this, should he even bother trying to toughen up? He had never been like them. Not naturally, at least. He didn't stand a chance when his time came. He figured that with all he's experienced, he should've at least developed past his more irrational fears. But he didn't.  Deep down, silly stuff still unsettled him. Spiders, violence, surprises. The dark. Ty knew he was afraid of the dark. Ty knew most of the stuff he was afraid of. And despite teasing Louie for pretty much everything else, never his fears. He claimed his brother was the same so he didn't find it all that weird. Louie called bullshit on that one. From what little he knew about Ben, it was impossible to picture that guy being scared of the dark. Ty was most likely trying to ease his insecurity. It didn't work. He felt uncomfortable sometimes, being somebody scared of so much, being close with somebody like Ty. Fearless. It sorta made him wonder if he was inferior. As if standing alongside Ty just wasn't right. The balance didn't seem equal. Wow. Louie was never gonna be good enough, was he?   Wait, no, stop it. Fucking stop it. He had no right to be feeling all sorry for himself for the probability that he wasn't good enough for Ty. On the grounds that he wasn't brave enough? No. Of course Louie wasn't good enough for Ty. That was an irrefutable fact. But what mattered right now was that his carelessness had almost gotten Ty killed today and he couldn't, in good conscience, be focusing on anything else. He almost got Ty killed. He almost got Ty killed. He almost got Ty killed. That was a little more important than "Boohoo, cute bear boy is never gonna kiss me. I'm sad." To make matters worse, Louie had gone and chosen the perfect time to figure out he was in love with Ty. Sure, It had left him happily dopey at the time. But now, after everything that happened, it was like his imaginary little love letter left a paper cut on his heart and splashed it with lemon juice. Ty was going to resign as his retainer. The more Louie said this to himself, the easier it would be to accept it when he received the news. It was truly possible Ty was currently out of his life for good. As much as Louie was trying to talk himself into hunting the boy down right this minute and begging for forgiveness, there was a part of him speculating that Ty would prefer not to see his stupid royal face ever again. It hurt. It really did hurt. But if that's what Ty wanted, Louie would silently abide by the request. He hated to admit it but the spineless side of him didn't want to face Ty either. The last look at him had been his still body laying on an iron bedstead in the castle infirmary. Beakley had assured the stricken Louie that Ty was not dead but refused to divulge the details as she ushered him out and exiled him to his room for the rest of the night. He needed to see Ty conscious. He needed to see him alive. It would be one weight off his chest just to know his retainer had bounced back. But also.....he didn't want to know the damage he'd done. He want to know how badly Ty had been wounded nor how close he had brushed by death. It had been Louie's fault. And he knew that. But the thought of confronting it head-on was a difficult reality to swallow. Even though he should. He should. Completely unrelated but another dumb, embarrassing thing that made him jump out of his skin? Sudden noises. Still completely unrelated but there was a knock at his door.

___________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 11:24AM]

The sky was clear, the autumn air wasn't chilly but pleasantly crisp and there was a lively gathering in the forest. It was held in a wide clearing, bursting with happy people, milling around and chatting. Surrounding them was an almost perfect circle of tangled old oaks, their branches wreathed with strings of homemade lanterns and flower garlands. 

Ty and Louie were quick to turn on tunnel vision towards the table with a large arrangement of party food. They came away with armfuls of bread, cheese, fruits and two tankards of apple cider. They found a spot for themselves, hiding away behind a stack of bailed hay just on the outskirts of the festivities. They set up their little feast, which they wasted no time in devouring. 

There were minstrels playing a vibrant tune. But even with all their flutes, fiddles and practice, they fell short in comparison to the natural music of Ty Cloudkicker's laughter. Louie was talking fast. He was gravitating into Ty's space as he did so, lured in by the bubbling sound. He was eager, grinning deliriously as he spouted out more and more of his story to keep the laugh from fading.

As if it was a lifeline. Like the back of his mind was utterly terrified it would stop. Yet he was entranced with a flood with endorphins, so enamored with the resonance that he couldn't help but be elated as he rattled on to keep himself alive. "Okay, so nobody specifically told Uncle Donald that keeping snacks in your crown was not considered "Kingly" behavior. But see, he just saw it as an extra pocket. He didn't get what the big deal was." 

When Ty laughed hard enough, he started snorting. He attempted to control himself. Louie wished he wouldn't. "So imagine being one of those advisor buzzard dorks, right? And you're having this big, important royal audience with the new king. And then right in the middle of discussing warships or something, he reaches into his crown, (not breaking eye contact.) and starts munching on a fish sandwich. They looked at him like he just spat on their mothers' graves." The octave skyrocketed and Ty disintegrated into high pitched cackles, tightly clutching his side as if he would split in half. It swept away the narrative in Louie's head, fizzling the thought process as he continued to gaze at Ty as if he were channeling golden light. However, his brain did not send the memo to this mouth that it was time to stop talking. Which led to Louie stuttering out "And the--....He--...uh, he--,um...." a brainless smile slapped on his face all the while. He couldn't stop smiling. He was crashing and burning and he couldn't stop smiling. He was certain he would be humiliated over this blunder later but right now, it was pretty funny. Thankfully, his subconscious had mercy on him, cutting him off with a nervous, breathless giggle. Ty was oblivious to whatever kind of gay breakdown Louie was having as he was trying to regain composure from his own hysterics. He was beginning to calm down, occasional wheezy yet delighted noises still sputtering out of him. His shoulders relaxed and he leaned back with a shaky exhale, still stuck with that huge sunny smile. They fell into a silence in the aftermath, content to sit and just listen to the music. Ty picked up his cider and took a gulp. Louie mirrored him. Then Ty's entire frame bucked with a surprise hiccup and Louie nearly choked. He was pretty sure he saw his whole life flash before his eyes as he collapsed into a coughing fit, Ty thumping him firmly on the back. "I'll live, I'll live!" Louie gasped, regaining himself. "Stop hitting me, I bruise like a peach." "Sorry." He drew his hand away. Then he hiccuped again and Louie lost it. "It's not funny!" Ty insisted, a desperate crack to his voice. It was pretty hilarious, actually. Not just the ridiculous little noises, but the way his shoulders jumped and how he would blink in split second afterwards, startled and bewildered like a baby animal. Ty gave him a shove, Louie still snickering and flailing his hands to halfheartedly fend him off. "Hey, hey, what gives you the right to attack me? I nearly choked and died 'cause of you." "Sounds like a "you" problem." "Where'd those hiccups even come from? Your papa bear never teach you not to drink your cider so fast?" Ty's bottom lip jutted out, irritated. He shook his head "Nah, it's--" Hic. Louie snorted. "Shut up!" He snapped. Yeah, his face was definitely a darker shade of pink than usual. "Sometimes I get hiccups if I laugh too much." "Huh. that's a thing that can happen?" "Yeah. A thing I gotta live with." Hic. "Lemme guess, this hasn't happened in a while?" "Huh?" Ty turned to him, perplexed. "Nah, it happens all the time. And when I tell ya it's the most annoying thing--" "You can't be serious." Louie smiled with a disbelieving shake of the head. "You, like, barely laugh anymore." "What's that supposed to mean?" "What?" He shrugged. "You don't." Ty rolled his eyes and directed his vision elsewhere. "I usually do whenever I go back to the glen." "Are Ben and Lottie really that funny?" "They are the least funny people I know. Also they suck and they're cheaters and I hate them." Hic. Let's see. So, he was clearly pouting. Acting all petty about his siblings. The Glen. Laughing to the point of hiccups. "Lots of tickle fights, huh?" Louie deduced, a smirk playing across his beak. Ty considered him for a moment, as if he was thinking about decking him right then and there but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the effort. (Louie was offended.) He then looked off into the distance, an indescribably haunted look in his eye. "Soooo....I'm gonna guess you usually lose the tickle fi--?" "I do not!" Ty abruptly yelled, shooting him an indignant look. "Let's get this straight, if it's one-on-one, I win. I always win. You better not forget that, your highness." He jabbed Louie's chest with his forefinger. "I'm the best fighter out of the three of us. In fact, I probably got the potential to be the best fighter in the whole kingdom!" "Real modest." "It's just if they team up, then it's unfair! That's why they're--" Hic. Louie watched, delightfully entertained as Ty hissed "God. Damn. Hiccups." "And how often do they team up?" He didn't answer right away. Then reluctantly grumbled "Most of the time." "So what I'm hearing is--...." Louie casually leaned against Ty's side, propping his elbow on the latter's shoulder.  "You do lose most of the time?" "Shut up." "No." "Okay, so here's the thing. Let's say you're a big, strong brave knight. You're super cool and heroic and everybody respects you." Hic. "Then you go back home and then suddenly you're just someone else's baby brother and they see you just standing there, minding your business and they're just like "Well! Guess I gotta obliterate him!" And they do not hold back." "Ohhhhh, I get that, I totally get that." Said Louie. "Well, not the brave knight part. But y'know. Me and my brothers had to share a room. It was tiny. There was always a foot in your face or whatever. And sometimes when were bored, they started getting rowdy and throwing hands and it's not like I asked but I got dragged in too. When I was just trying to sleep, man! I wasn't asking for a spontaneous duel at 2am." Ty snorted. "Oh yeah, and sometimes Dewey calls me a little bitch." "He's right." Louie knocked his body against Ty's, making a sound of faux outrage. Ty only found that funnier. Huffing, Louie pawed around for the cluster of grapes at his side. He twisted one free and twirled it around his fingers for a moment. "Watch this. I can feel it. I'm gonna do it this time." "Are you now?" Said Ty in such a distinctly pleasant tone that Louie could not possibly interpret it any other way than "I do not believe that but I'm humoring you but I also want you to understand that my sweet voice is oh, so bitterly sarcastic. Fuck you." "I see you're doubting me." "Me? Doubt my liege? I could never." "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're a real court jester. Now shut up and observe." Louie wiped all expression from his face and inhaled deeply to obtain peak tranquility. He relaxed his whole frame. If he could pull this off, this would be his day for sure. Ty was watching. This moment would define his life. Thinking a hasty prayer to every known God, force and entity  that had ever favored the unlikely ones, he tossed the grape in the air, threw his head back and opened his beak. The grape finished rising and gravity took control. It fell. Down, down, down, down. Louie now understood the concept of meditation. He was so in the zone, he could've sworn the grape was descending in slow motion. Yes, yes, it was aligning directly below his beak. He was gonna catch it! Down, down, down, down. Then Ty snatched it right out of the air and swallowed it whole. Louie sat, slack jawed, attempting to process what had just happened. He slowly turned to Ty, completely blank. Huh. That moment really did define his life. "You bastard!" He squawked. "Me bastard!" Ty exclaimed, looking insufferably proud of himself. "How could you?! I know our allyship has been complicated but this is high treason!" "Sorry, sorry, I just--" He sat back a little, shaking with silent laughter. He then formed a square with his hands and hovered it before Louie, squinting one eye. "I just needed to see the face you would make and god, it was worth it. You think you could hold that face for a few hours to get a portrait made? I'd get it framed and hang it in my room." He was teasing him. Louie knew he was teasing him. And yet he still blushed bright red from the fragment of fondness blurred in the implication. "W-well, well I would--I'd--" He floundered, racking his brain for a retort. "You think there's any musical instruments that could replicate your dorky little hiccups? I'd hire minstrels just to have them play it for me! Y'know, for when I need a laugh." Ty's smug grin dropped and his eyes flicked about uncertainly. "I--..." He dragged the word out, face flushing at a rapid rate as he folded his knees up to curl in on himself. He crossed his arms. "I think they're gone now anyway." He mumbled. Hic. God, that never got old. "If you laugh one more time, I'm putting you in a tree and leaving you there." Louie laughed again, out of spite. "Nobody's fault but your own. Imagine you've just fought an epic battle and you think there's no more enemies to take on. But as soon as you say that out loud, boom! Second ambush! You would think a warrior like you would get that." "Your highness?" "Yeah?" "Shut your huge mouth." "No." "Okay. Dunno why I thought that would work. Never does." "Y'know I would offer to spook your hiccups away. But we both know that wouldn't work." "Yeah, probably not." Said Ty with a shake of his head. He perked up a bit. "Lottie gave it a shot once. Nothing." "Well, it's just like you said that one time." Louie shrugged, then faltered when the back of his mind took notice of the dimly glowing orange irises he was met with. His voice softened involuntarily. "You're fearless." He didn't know what he said wrong. Ty's face fell. He looked so utterly devastated that Louie, completely lost to why he was even upset, felt his own heart shatter to pieces. He wanted to start sobbing just from seeing him. "Oh..." Ty whispered. He clutched one of his hands with the other and began fidgeting with his fingers. "Well, see. Uh, the thing about that is--...." Concerned, Louie scooched in closer, peering at the face that had once again turned away from him. He hesitantly touched Ty's upper arm. "Hey. Ty. Are you--?" "HEY, LOOK AT THAT!" Ty blurted out, his voice nervously rising in pitch. He attempted to subtly clear his throat. Louie followed the direction of Ty's pointer finger which was gesturing out to the thick expanse of forestry. There was nothing there. But then he caught a flash of movement and noticed two figures tucked away in the shadows of the trees. A young man and woman, probably only a few years older than them. "The couple?" Louie asked, puzzled. "The what now?" Then Ty did a double take, then snapped to attention as if he had just noticed them. "Oh! Oh, yeah, them, sure. I mean, yeah, that's what I meant. Them. Uhhh....look at them!" "Uh. Okay? Why?" "Theeeyyyy're....cute? Gross? They're something. They're definitely something." Louie hummed, taking the two into consideration. The girl was letting out a peal of laughter and the guy was blabbing away animatedly, looking thrilled with himself that she was finding him funny. He was trying so hard.... Louie didn't know if he wanted to gag or coo out an "aww!" "Grossly cute." He decided. Ty snapped his fingers. "That's it!" "You know, I don't get why they're over there. There's tons of people around here. Why would you wanna show up to a party if you're just gonna hide away and hang out with one person the whole time?" "For real though." For the next few minutes, Ty and Louie observed the couple, keeping up a running commentary on the guy's obvious nerves and the girl's less than subtle advances. Ty and Louie learned a lot about themselves in those few minutes. Namely that they were both terrible at lip reading. "He said Pants." Ty was certain. "No, he said Nance." Louie countered. "Her name is probably Nancy." The girl clapped her hands together, nodding eagerly. "Then what's that for, huh? Clearly he just offered to tailor her a personalized pair of pants." "You are so dumb, that's not what's happening here at all." The guy took a dramatic step back and twirled his wrist an unnecessary amount of times before offering her his hand with a half-bow. She took it, giggling. The two them scampered off, out of the shadows and into the heart of the party, where other couples were twirling around as the minstrels played. He curled an arm around her waist, smiling as though this was his greatest honor and they spun into the motion, flowing so naturally amidst the other dancers as if they were simply another cogwheel in the world's most elegant clock. "Dance." Said Ty and Louie in unison. "Pretty sure we were close." "Pretty sure we're idiots." "Yeah, I know but just let me pretend." Ty suddenly snickered, his eyes glinting. "What was that thing he did with his hand anyway? And why did she eat it up?" "It's called flair, Tiberius." "Kinda dumb." "You're just mad that flair is not something you possess." "Bullshit, watch this!" Ty sat up straight and bent his arm into a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Prepare to be amazed." And then his entire forearm began to spin and spin and spin and spin and spin like a windmill in a hurricane. "Flair, flair, flair, flair," He was chanting and Louie had already collapsed in a giggle fit. It wasn't even remotely funny. It was dumb, it was so dumb. But Louie could admit to himself that dumb schticks get like ninety percent more humorous to him if there's a really cute boy performing them. He was easy like that. Ty was extremely committed to the joke as he kept spinning and spinning for over ten seconds. He kept shooting Louie glances and his grin got wider and wider every time he looked away. "FLAIR!" He let his arm go, throwing out an open palm and nearly knocked it against the side of Louie's head. "Hey!" He dodged. "Watch where you swing that thing, you could've whacked me!" "But I didn't!" Said Ty gleefully. He lowered his hand but did not withdraw. It remained unwavering and offered out to Louie. He took it. He didn't think, he just took it. It was only when they made contact that Louie woke up and his heart promptly spiked. But besides a light blush, he managed to keep his face neutral. "So, I guess it's not just that girl who's impressed by this stuff." Ty was nonchalant. His smile then twitched, as if aching to stretch wider but he was reigning it in. "You are too." They were still touching, which, by all accounts, should continue to fluster Louie. But as seconds ticked by, a sense of calm was settling over him. The very thing originally causing panic was now bringing him comfort. It was the weirdest thing, "I was laughing at you, not with you." He said evenly, catching Ty's contagious smile. "Ehh," He shrugged. "I'll take it." Louie would count this as a new domain for sure. Uncharted waters. As if he and Ty had stumbled in accidentally but now they were here, their curiosity was urging them to explore. Not to a dangerous extent, of course. But maybe just edge along the sidelines and see what they could discover. "Your hands are so tiny, it's crazy." Ty commented, tilting his head. Turning it over, he slid his thumb thoughtfully across Louie's palm. "How do you even hold anything?" Louie wasn't even eyeing their hands but was regarding Ty's pensive face. "It's kinda the worst. Whenever we find treasure and I get my cut, the fancy rings and bracelets are huge. I always gotta go to a jeweler and get them resized if I wanna wear them."' Ty was fiddling with Louie's fingers now, fixing him with a decisive nod. "I'll get you a ring for Christmas." "Woah, woah. For real?" "Yeah. I'll put it in one of those fancy boxes. But then you'll open it and see it's made out of grass and try to have me beheaded." As they were speaking, their hands continued to play around. Ty had flattened his own, aligning his palm against Louie's. Louie spread his fingers and Ty laced his through. "Uncle Donald says I'm not allowed to say "Off with his head" anymore or I'm grounded 'til I'm thirty-five. It "makes the people want to revolt."" Louie air-quoted with his free hand. "But I would fire you for sure." Ty snorted. "You would not and you know it." There would never be any proof that they held hands that day. Not a single eye witnesses, including themselves, as both boys had turned a blind eye to their own actions. They were afraid to look down, as that would be an acknowledgement. Louie had no mental image of the moment, fuschia fur intertwined with snow feathers, only a rush of heat and a hazy ponder if the dampness was his sweat or Ty's. And if the feel of Ty's touch was just an illusion of the mind, there was one poignant hint of the reality and that was how gentle their voices had gotten. "Oh, so, you're really gonna test me like that, Tiberius? Pushing me around, stealing grapes, calling me a little bitch. Is this any way to treat your liege? You don't think I'm at the end of my rope with you?" "Nahhhh...." Ty drew the word out, grinning. He twisted his muzzle into an exaggerated pout and batted his eyes. "You would never because I'm awesome and cool and smart and you love me." It was Ty's utter nerve that left Louie too astonished to even blush. Instead, he simply tilted his head, an eyebrow cocked. "Do I?" He challenged. To his credit, Ty did not relent either. However, the impishness gradually died from his eyes until he was left solemn. "Maybe?" He spoke softly, as though too much force would crack the delicate little word. He bore into Louie's eyes, like he was searching for an answer. Pleading for an answer. Louie felt his own hand squeeze Ty's. He inhaled. He knew he was going to say something, he was just leaving it up his own scattered subconscious to determine what. He would open his beak and whatever words wound up tumbling out would seal his fate. He didn't have a second to panic, to fret, as he was already speaking and he was petrified by how fast this was all going. "I--" Something shattered and a woman screamed in pain. Indistinct shouting and Ty cursed under his breath. Louie scrambled around to see the commotion and the last few things he registered were the gleam of sunlight catching unsheathed weapons, the girl he called Nancy with crimson pooling from her forehead, Ty demanding "Get down!" and knocking him stomach-down into the ground. 

“Stay there and don’t move.” Then Ty had rushed off and everything went to shit.

___________

[OCTOBER 22ND, 7:13PM] Louie was well acquainted with that knock. Firstly, one firm rap against wood, proceeded by two more rapid-fire. He associated it with a twinge of annoyance, high sun beams streaking in his window and somebody near, dear and insufferable to his heart, pestering him from the other side to rise and shine already or his breakfast would go stale. This usually occurred around 9:30AM. If given a say in the matter, Louie would sleep til noon. But he didn't have a say in the matter because every morning, without fail, there was a retainer banging down his door. Something was off this time. Once he knocked, Ty had fallen uncharacteristically silent. No continuation of drumming out an obnoxious little tune and and no insisting he open up. Louie was hesitant to do much of anything. It seemed his door was the only thing protecting him from facing repercussions right now. If he fell deep enough into denial, he could pretend Ty wasn't there. So long as he kept his door shut, he could pretend everything was alright. Ty didn't almost die. It was a tempting thought. It resounded in such an appealing voice inside his head that Louie seized his latch before he could give in. The brass shocked a chill to the pads of his fingers as he held on tight. He had to open up. He had to. His hand fidgeted, stalling the moment. He thumped his forehead against the door, heaving a steadying sigh. "You don't wanna see me, do you, your highness?" He heard Ty say in hushed tones, his voice startlingly close to where Louie had situated himself. "Ehh, if we're being honest....not really." "Oh...." "Do you wanna see me?" "I mean....I kinda don't? The idea of seeing you right now is making me nauseous." The statement skewered Louie's heart. He shook it off. "Why'd you knock?" "'Cause it doesn't matter what I want, I gotta see you right now. It's important." An prolonged pause hung in the air, buzzing with a mutual uncertainty. Louie tapped his fingers to the wood and after a second or two, Ty did the same. Their respective rhythms aligned. "But..." Ty continued, his voice faltering. "If you don't wanna see me, I can go--" "Convince me." Louie was blurting out before he thought twice about it. "Huh?" "I need to open this door but, like surprise surprise, I'm scared. You've done it before. I get scared and you talk me into stuff. Do your big strong hero magic and get me to suck it up. Please, I need it." "Oh, uh, I--" He could hear how flustered Ty had gotten suddenly being put on the spot. "Well, I--...I guess you don't have a choice 'cause if you don't open up, I'm strong enough to barricade the door down. So, I figure we should just do this the easy way." Despite the circumstances and the scruple wrung tense in his stomach, Louie felt the corner of his beak twitch at the tentative touch to Ty's tone. He felt his stiff shoulders relax. "Is that a threat, Tiberius?" "Uh, no." Ty admitted, sounding sheepish. "That was just a joke. See, it was the first thing that came into my head and then suddenly I was saying it. Sorry, I dunno for sure if now is "joke time" and I figured it'd be kinda weird to ask so--" He didn't get to finish rambling. His hair whipped to the side with the rush of air that came with the swift swing of the door. Louie fixed him with a hard look, processing the sight of his retainer standing there, alive and bright eyed. Ty's hand was still hovering awkwardly in the air, where he assumed it had been resting against the door. He blinked back at him, puzzled and a little alarmed, as if caught under a spotlight. He didn't look angry. But Louie knew better than to lull himself into thinking he was in the clear. Whatever resentment Ty was feeling would spill out in time. Louie braced himself. "Hey, Ty." He said stiffly. "Come on in."

#ty cloudkicker #fairytale au

[spcncershybrid]

Dead?- Spencer Reid Imagine Part Three

GIFS ARE NOT MINE

SPENCER REID X MIKAELSON!HYBRID!READER

(Summary: The final fight between Mallory and the Mikaelsons.)

(Sorry this took sooo long to post. I’ve been preoccupied of other imagines. This wasn’t proofread so there might be some errors.)

REQUEST ARE OPEN (See my pinned for the shows/movies I write for.)

Warnings: Probably a handful of curses but that’s it. 

“So what’s our plan?” Rebekah asks as we reach the Abattoir. “Well I was thinking of what you said before about killing them. I can link my life to Mallory and one of you can kill me. Then Davina can unlink us when Mallory dies. Afterwards we can enclose the area and make it burn. ” I say glancing towards them. They all look at each other weighing the plan. “The witch would die and the vampire would be burned.” I say as Klaus smirks delighted at the idea. I smile as they agree on the plan. We all step into the Abattoir glancing around the giant space. “I knew you’d all come.” Mallory says from behind us. “Well you did summon us.” I say turning towards her. “Where is our sister?” I ask, tapping my foot on the hard floor. “They’re early.” I hear a voice say from behind us. I turn around facing the voice meeting eyes with the deputy. “Hmm what ever shall we do hun?” Mallory asks, twirling her hair between her fingers. “We aren’t here for games, give us our bloody sister.” Klaus says aggravated. “In nearly five minutes maybe less. That stupid BAU team will be busting through those door you guys aren’t safe. Especially you Y/N, does Reid even know?” Mallory says smirking. I smirk back at her. “Well you’re trying to unleash a war with the Mikaelson family. Do you understand our ways or how psychotic we can be?” I say to her shoving my hands into my pocket. “Actually us Mikaelsons are very quick thinkers especially when mortal beings are involved.” I say looking at her in the eyes. “Pagina nostrae, pro tempore.” I say linking our lives together temporarily. “Mallory love, last time I checked witches were of the mortal species. I am part original vampire, a species that is immortal. Good luck on your safe voyage to wherever you go cause it’s for sure as hell isn't peace.” I say smirking happily. “Klaus and Davina you know your roles.” I say stepping towards them. Klaus speeds over snapping my neck instantly as Davina starts muttering a spell.

No Ones P.O.V

The BAU team storms into the Abattoir seeing their beloved team member lying lifeless on the floor. Davina works hard safely unlinking Y/N and Mallory’s lives leaving Mallory completely dead.

______________

Reader’s POV

I wake up from the floor gasping for air. I look at my surroundings being greeted by familiar faces. My team. I stand up dusting off my pants. “I will explain everything after I promise.” I say towards my team meeting eyes with Spencer. “If there is a later.” I hear the deputy say. I turn around facing him as he holds Freya's throat. We all stay silent for a moment.“Deputy Collins put the girl down.” Hotch’s stern voice breaks the silence. “They killed Mallory; they all deserve pain.” He spat holding Freya tighter. “Oh don’t be so dramatic. The Greenwood witch deserved her demise.” Klaus says bouncing on his feet. Morgan looks at Klaus stunned. “Invisique.” I whisper making myself invisible. Spencer and Morgan drop their guns. “Where the hell did they go?” Collins asks, turning around. “Here.” I say walking behind him snapping his neck. He drops to the floor letting go of Freya in the process. I make myself visible again gaining a few stares from my team. “Phase two?” Davina asks, running her hands through her hair. I nod and walk towards her. I guide the team and my siblings over to the wall. “Trace the floor with salt around his body.” I tell Rebekah. She runs off coming back with salt in an instant. Davina traces the body with salt. “Sit down and we’ll cross our hands over him.” I say quickly sitting on the floor laying my hands out for her. She grabs my hand and we close our eyes. “Adolebit corpus. Adolebit corpus. Adolebit corpus.” We chant as the deputy’s body slowly goes up in flames. We let go of each other and step back watching the flames die down. I look around at everyone and motion for us all to leave the Abattoir. We all leave, my team stunned at what had just happened. “I’ll explain but first let’s go to the Mikaelson Mansion to have our chat.” I say to them. “You guys can go compel the station.” I tell my siblings as I step into the van.

______________

We step inside the mansion. Emily and JJ immediately gawk at the size and interior. “It’s not as good as the old one but it will suffice.” I say laughing at their faces. “So for starters let’s go over here this area bigger and we can all talk.” I say pointing to the living room. “Damn Mikaelson this place is the bomb.” Derek says sitting down. The team laughs at Derek's voice of words. “Would you guys like anything to drink?” I say as they all get comfortable. They all nod. “Spencer, help me.” I say waving at him. He nods and walks with me to the kitchen. “What I said before Spence I meant it. But I can understand if this is a lot and you don’t want to deal with me or my family.” I say grabbing a bottle of wine. “You told me you loved me and I never returned it. Yes I won’t understand anything about you or your family but I still love you.” Spencer says grabbing the bottle from my hands. “Y/N Mikaelson, I love you.” Spencer whispers softly, smiling. “Sorry you had to meet my family this way.” I say laughing as I grab wine glasses for all of us. “It’s fine at least I got to meet them. When you left I thought you weren’t coming back.” Spencer says as we head to the living room. “I’m over 1000! Getting rid of me will have to be one hell of a job.” I say laughing as I sit down with them.

 ______________

“So can you explain this whole thing.” Rossi says, taking a sip of wine. “My family are over 1000 years old. I am kind of the middle child.” I say taking a sip of my wine. “My family is the world’s first vampire family, well vampires in general.” I continue. “I on the other hand am a hybrid. My mother was a witch and I was the first sibling to discover my powers and then my mother turned us all into vampires.” I finished. They all stare at me shocked. “So do you drink blood?” Emily asks. “Rarely. Being part witch suppresses my vampire side so I rarely get cravings.” I answer. “Wait wait do you look like the Cullen family when you change?” JJ says bouncing in her seat laughing. “No that’s probably the most offensive thing I have ever heard JJ.” I say laughing. “But to answer your question I think the Mikaelsons look scarier.” I say finishing my wine. “Oh you have to show us don’t leave us hanging.” Penelope says excitedly. “Do you guys really want to see it?” I say semi shocked. They all nod and lean forward interested. I take a deep breath and shut my eyes. I feel heat rush up my cheeks and towards my eyes. My fangs peek out and I open my eyes. “Woah that’s so sick.” Emily says bouncing back. “My brother Klaus has the craziest hybrid eyes.” I say shifting back. “Dear sister it’s not nice to talk about others behind their backs.” I hear Klaus say from behind me. “Ah the terrible brother.” I say jokingly. “Last time I checked Kol skipped off.” He says laughing before speeding off to the kitchen and coming back with a glass of wine. “Nik show them your hybrid face.” I say shifting quickly. “Being a hybrid isn’t a party trick sister. Remember 1384.” Klaus says drinking his wine. “I told you never bring that up.” I scold staring at him. “Fine but it was an amazing time.” Klaus says, quirking an eyebrow to the team. “Just show your vampire face Nik.” I say hitting his leg. “Alright you pesky child.” He says before shifting showing his yellow eyes and vampire face. “Yes!” I exclaim before leaning back into my chair. “Your family is amazing.” Hotch says laughing at the team. “I’ve dealt with them for nearly 900 years no they aren’t.” I say chuckling. “I thought you were 1000.” Spencer asks, slightly confused. “Let’s just say my brother Klaus was hellbent on daggering his siblings. I was one of the unlucky and was daggered for a century.” I say glaring at Klaus. “Oh my dear sister I know where you keep your daggers.” Klaus sas smirking. “But only I know where the White Oak ash is.” I say smirking back. He drops his smirks and speeds off to somewhere in the house. “Is this why you’re so fearless on cases?” Derek asks tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Yep I literally can't die. So if an unsub decides to shoot me I'll be perfectly fine.” I say leaning into Spencer. “But being a vampire isn’t all glorious. We outlive our loved ones most of the time.” I say sadly. “Would you ever turn any one of us?” Derek asks, staring at Spencer. “No but if it’s that person's choice I’ll consider it.” I answer truthfully looking around.

______________

“They look so peaceful.” Spencer says as we stand in the middle of the kitchen watching the team sleep soundly on the couch. I laugh as I clean a wine glass. “Like Morgan asked earlier, would you ever turn one of us?” Spencer asked, turning to me. “Spence hypothetically if we're talking about you The answer is no. I’d rather stake myself with a White Oak stake than turn you into a vampire.” I say staring up at him. “You don’t think I’ll make a good vampire?” Spencer says jokingly, stepping towards me. “You would probably cry feeding off of something.” I admit hugging him. I feel him laugh as he wraps his arms around me. We stand for a moment before Spencer lets me go. “So what happened in 1384?” He asks, crossing his arms. I groan at his question. “I will kill Klaus for bringing that up again.” I say laughing as Spencer joins in laughing too.

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #the originals #the originals imagine

[mxillusion]

Just let me love you.

➝ pairing: im jaebum x reader  

➝ genre/warnings: angsty fluff, roommate!AU

➝ words count: 2600+

➝ summary: After sharing one bed with your flatmate, everything seems to be different. You try your best to not show your confusion, but another incident makes everything even worse. Yet here you are, with a racing heart and dead certainty he’ll break your heart. Read the prequel here!

It's only been two days. Two days and you weren't able to think straight anymore. Jaebum was on your mind twenty-four-seven lately, and there was nothing you could do about it. In actual fact, this was nothing new to you, but since he spent the night in your bed - somehow cuddled up to you - your head was spinning. You expected you wouldn't get any sleep this night, but as soon as you woke up the next morning, you realized you'd slept like a baby in his arms.

He was awake already, looking at you with a soft smile on his lips as you slowly opened your eyes. You still laid in his arms, able to hear his uneven heartbeat while his scent was indulging your senses. Feeling his warm body so close to yours was somehow hard to handle, your mind too tired to be able to process.

Jaebum's fingertips ran up and down your arm while he was only looking at you. You blushed under his gaze, furtively closing your eyes again to savor this intimate moment. It just felt like heaven on earth.

But soon, it got awkward for no reason. Neither of you knew what to do now. You had spent the night together, and even though it has been absolutely PG-13, you somehow felt overwhelmed. And so did he. After what felt like an eternity of silence, you managed to leave the bed, excusing yourself with some lame plea. In record time, you rushed through the bathroom only to leave your apartment without looking at him again.

Great.

The day has been just as awkward as the morning, as you came back home pretty late. Jaebum was sitting in the living room, watching some tv, yet you immediately gained his full attention as soon as you walked in. You managed to exchange a few words but ended up hiding in your room, hoping he would even leave you be.

And so he did.

You didn't get a wink of sleep that night, debating with yourself if you should ask him to sleep at your place again. But since you had no idea how to accomplish that, you refrained from it. There was no way to ask for this without looking like a total idiot since you, in a way, ditched him in the morning.

Today you felt horrible because of the lack of sleep and walked through your day like a zombie. You hurried, so you would be back home before he was.

With a sigh, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you closed your eyes for a second. Your heart was racing just by the thought of your flatmate, and soon you realized, you had to do something. And you only had two options: pretending as nothing happened, or straightaway confess.

Your head started spinning again, so you decided to take a quick shower as long as you were alone. Thoughtlessly you threw a few of your clothes directly onto the couch while you made your way to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you, stripping off your underwear to step into the shower.

The warm water ran down your frame while your forehead rested against the cold tilework, your eyes closed. In your mind's eye, you saw him smiling his unique smile, which made your heart jump in excitement. Whenever he was smiling at you, you somehow forgot how to breathe. If you had to be honest, you had a crush on him since forever, but you were able to hide it pretty well. But that one night changed everything.

As you stepped out of the shower, infinite time later, you firstly heard sounds out of the living room, immediately knowing what caused them. Or, to be more exact, who.

And that's when you realized you had made a big mistake. Your clothes were still in the living room, where you left them, just as Jaebum was by now. Shit. You forgot to pick new clothes, and now you were locked up in here with nothing but a towel and old underwear laying on the floor.

Great.

Frantically, you thought about what to do now. But quickly, you concluded there was nothing much you could do besides stepping out of the bathroom and run for dear life. So you wrapped your towel around your body as tight as possible, hoping it would stay at its place long enough for you to get yourself out of harm's way.

Carefully, you opened the door, hoping he wouldn't even notice you. Maybe he was watching tv or listening to music on his phone like he did most of the time, so either way, he wouldn't be able to notice you.

However, he did none of this. Jaebum was standing in front of the windows, staring through the glass into the distance. He seemed in deep thoughts, making you assume you'd be safe.

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

You were halfway there, just as he turned around, his eyes widened as they caught you. He gulped, surreptitiously biting his lip while he constrained himself to look away.

"I'm sorry, I, uh, had no idea..."

Your face turned bright red as your fingers almost painfully clung on to the fabric wrapped around your body. Thank god it was big enough to cover most of your skin, even though there were some parts it couldn't quite reach. It seemed to be barely enough back in the bathroom, but now, you felt exposed, as if you would stand in front of him in your birthday suit. - Which was pretty accurate, in some way.  

"L-let me put on s-some clothes real quick, okay?" you gasped, praying to God Jaebum would just let you be. This whole thing between you was embarrassing enough, yet it didn't need to get any worse.

"Okay."

You perceived an audible sigh out of his direction, turning away from you just to spun around again a second later.

"No, sorry. I have to say this now before I don't have the guts anymore."

Awkwardly, you tried to adjust yourself while standing there, shifting from one foot to another. This whole scene was beyond embarrassing, no matter how hard you tried to keep cool.

Jaebum ran a hand through his already messed up hair, visibly searching for the right words. Just a few seconds ago, he was quite sure he would be courageous enough to spill the tea. However, he now felt mesmerized, unable to think straight anymore.

"So, what is it?" you dared to ask, even if you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer.

"About the other night. I just wanted to say -" He let out another sigh, because, once again, he was unable to express his feelings for you. Why the hell did this have to be so damn hard?

These few words made your heart beat a lot faster, unwillingly giving you a glimpse of hope he maybe would feel the same about you. The next second, however, this hope was smashed into pieces as he shook his head in silence.

"Ah, its nothing. Let's forget about that. Okay?"

Your heart was aching painfully, in the act of consent tacitly. Staring at Jaebum with widened eyes, you felt like an idiot for having any hope at all. He just slept in your bed, yet nothing happened that night. So what were you expecting now?

"Sure," you breathed before you hurried to disappear in your room.

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it, closing your eyes as your head was resting on the wooden frame.

Fuck!

This whole thing has gotten worse and worse. Suddenly you cursed that stupid night no matter how good it felt that second, it seemed to be nothing more but a big mistake. You never intended to let things get out of hand, yet here you were with a heart that was beating to your neck, although it got shattered to pieces a few seconds ago.

At this point, it felt quite impossible to get back on track with him again. Jaebum was acting differently now, so you were pretty sure it wouldn't turn anywhere near normal again.

You managed to put on some clothes and somehow get ready to leave the apartment directly afterward. There was no way you would stay here, acting like nothing ever happened. You were way too emotional to hide any sort of emotion from anyone.

As you fastly walked through the flat, you felt his gaze on your back, but you acted like you wouldn't notice. You had to get out of here before he would have the chance to become aware of anything.

Jaebum was staring at the door after you slammed it shut behind you.

"Fuck," he hissed, kicking the bookshelf nearby him. He knew he screwed it all up by now, even though he tried so hard not to. However, it felt like mission impossible at this point. It always looked so simple in any movie, yet here he was, feeling like a total idiot.

He never would've guessed he'd fell in love with his flatmate, basically because he always tried to control his passions and think straight before falling for someone head over heels. Yet this was just what happened with you.

It was already late at night, as you finally came home again. Simultaneously as you opened the door, you've been looking out for him, yet he was nowhere in sight. You concluded, he had left the apartment too.

Thank god.

Actually, you wanted to stay the night by a friend, but sadly she hasn't been home, so you had no other choice but to walk home again. Maybe you were lucky enough to be alone this night, anyway. Maybe Jaebum would stay away instead.

You lay awake the whole night, unable to control your thoughts or emotions in the slightest. He was still on your mind like he was before, maybe even more after that incident earlier.

Somewhere along the line, you heard a noise outside your room. Of course, Jaebum had to come home again, but you'd hoped so bad it wouldn't be tonight.

You held your breath as if he wouldn't be able to tell you were home too.

As it knocked at your door, you flinched while your heart was about to leap out of your chest. You had no intention at all to talk to your flatmate now, so you decided to simply not respond.

But he was knocking again, silently calling out your name.

"Go away," you sighed, hoping this would be enough to get rid of him again.

"Please, can I come in?" he asked, his voice muffled through the wood.

"I'm already sleeping."

"No, you're not."

You sighed, pulling your blanket over your head as if you'd be able to disappear. A part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you felt way too anxious at this point, so you didn't dare to answer again.

That's when the door opened a crack, Jaebum's head peeking inside. "Y/N? Please?" He sounded agonized, almost begging you to give him a second chance to explain himself.

"What is it, Jae?" You slowly got yourself out of bed to approach him, keeping a little distance between you.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, hanging his head.

"About?"

He exhaled heavily. "Everything."

You felt another sting deep in your chest, right where your heart was. Whatever Jaebum was about to say now, would only make it worse, you were sure of it.

"You don't have to be. It's okay."

He shook his head a little too rashly. "No, it's not. Listen, I never wanted things to get that difficult between us. I feel like I ruined everything by acting like a total idiot."

Something in the way he was looking at you, caused you to feel his pain too. Jaebum was suffering in a way you couldn't quite comprehend yet.

"It's okay. Really. Now go get some sleep."

"You don't get it. I can't! I'm unable to fall asleep. Not since we slept together," he babbled, causing your eyes to widen. The way he was talking almost implied you two had sex that night, even though both of you knew you hadn't.

"I don't mean... Well, I guess you know what I mean."

Muted, you simply nodded, incapable of saying or reacting in any other way. You only hoped he would hurry up now. He was about to break your heart, at least that's what you thought, and you were pretty sure it would be best to make it fast.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to stay. I was too dizzy, still half asleep, and - obviously - I didn't think before I spoke."

Now it was his heart that shattered a little. Why would you say that? Was he that wrong with reading between the lines?

"What? No, I -"

"I get it. It didn't mean anything to you, and that's fine. Let's just don't make a big deal out of it, okay?"

Jaebum blinked in confusion. "Can you please hear me out now?"

You just nodded, still preparing yourself for the worst. At this point, it was pure torture, and your heart barely couldn't take it anymore.

"It is a big deal for me, okay?"

"W-what?"

Silence spread across the room while you two were eyeing each other. Out of a sudden, a part of you was scared, yet the other part didn't seem to get what was happening right now.

You felt his hand on your waist, and everything was happening quite fast. Jaebum spun you around to turn your back against the wall. He stepped up to you to pin you against it. And that's when his lips crashed upon yours.

Immediately, your body was reacting on his own. You placed your palms on his shoulders, your fingers clung on to the collar of his shirt, while he kissed you hungrily. His body was pushing you closer to the wall, it almost hurt, yet you couldn't care less.

One of his hands placed next to you against the wall to support himself, the other still on your hips. Slowly it ran down your waist, along your thigh only to grab it so he could wrap it around his middle.

You clung on to him for dear life while he deepened the kiss a little more, making your legs shake. Everything he wasn't capable of saying, now mirrored in the way he kissed you. There was no doubt anymore that this night meant a lot to him, and finally, you realized he indeed felt just the same as you did.

Infinite time later, he pulled away, leaving you both breathless and panting for air. Your body was trembling while you were glancing up at him as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"I'm sorry," he repeated himself. "I wanted to say so much to you, but I just couldn't. Not when you look at me like that." He chuckled lightly, tilting his head. "And especially not when you're standing in front of me in nothing but a towel."

You had to laugh as you felt heat rushing in your cheeks while you thought about that stupid situation from earlier. Jaebum was right. Maybe this hasn't been the best moment to confess to you.

"Don't worry. You already made it up to me by now," you breathed before you quickly kissed him again.

Jaebum smiled against your lips before wrapping his arms around your frame, lifting you to carry you to your bed. There was no way any of you would spend this night alone anymore.

#got7 #im jaebum #jaebum #im jaebeom #jaebeom #jaebum scenario #jaebum imagine #jaebum fanfic #jaebeom scenario #jaebeom imagine #jaebeom fanfic #fluff #angst #roommate!au #got7 scenario #got7 imagine #got7 fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop fanfic

[lumoshyperion]

thank you for the answer! I know what you mean about theatre being vulnerable, even as an audience member I think you get some of that too, and the way you all share the theatre space together and it's so fleeting! You said that Albus will likely never act again, why is that? :( 🎭

Yes, exactly! It's such a specific, special moment in time? And a play you see now will mean something different than it did years ago when you saw it for the first time. Whenever I see a performance, particularly one with a large audience, I'm always struck by how different everyone's experiences are? We all bring different baggage and biases to the theatre. Something that makes someone else feel nothing, may strip me down to the very core - and it doesn't mean that person didn't watch the play properly, it just means that it meant something different to them. There's no right or wrong way to view and enjoy theatre. And this is especially true for Shakespeare. His works have been adapted over and over and over again. Hamlet in particular will never grow old, its universal themes leading to productions like "Globe to Globe Hamlet", where their aim was to visit every country in the world. We all take something different from the melancholy Dane. Even the companies who adapt the play all have their own concerns and biases in mind when bringing it to the stage - and so will Astoria and Albus and the rest of the team.

Speaking of Albus - he's just not an actor. This is something he mentions, constantly, throughout the process of the play. He's also an introvert and being the centre of attention like he is when onstage, and especially in a leading role, just isn't something he copes with? And I think that - he could be an excellent actor, if he wanted to, but the key word here is "want". Because regardless of how good he is, regardless of how much depth and care he brings to Hamlet - he still doesn't want to be an actor. He doesn't handle the vulnerability well at all, and he's so empathetic that he just - gets lost in the character? And someone like Hamlet is incredibly difficult to inhabit. You constantly hear stories about actors who struggled with the role - Paul Gross said that he often zoned out during scenes, he hallucinated while onstage and sometimes even offstage. It was just too much? Especially for a person like Albus, who has this immense, unyielding sense of empathy and compassion. It stops being a performance, because Albus is out there living every part of Hamlet. He doesn't know how to approach it any other way, because he just... cares too much. He never does things by halves. And he loves Hamlet. He knows Hamlet. Anything less than his whole self just wouldn't be enough. Hamlet deserves more than that.

Here's an excerpt from later on in the fic, when things are starting to get heated. Albus found out that the company has been talking about him behind his back, and he didn't take it very well. He vanished from rehearsals and wouldn't answer anyone's calls. He shows up to the fight call, trying to pretend nothing happened. I've popped it under a "read more" because it's rather long.

Albus went through the stage door rather than the front entrance, not wanting to make a fuss when he arrived and hoping that he might just slip in quietly. But he heard the cast talking onstage as he walked through the wings, and he paused.

“Where else could he have gone?” Yann asked. “We’ve checked all over campus. We’ve checked his favourite cafes, we checked the library.”

“Maybe he went home?” Scorpius suggested, and was met with silence. “I mean, his parent’s home.”

“No, he wouldn’t have done that,” Yann replied, calmly. “He must be at his apartment, we just don’t know where that is.”

There was another silence, before Scorpius spoke, “And you’re sure you never walked home with him? He never mentioned where he was staying?”

“I’ve never been to his apartment. I never even saw the building,” Karl responded, a weight in his words that Albus couldn’t place.

They went quiet again, so Albus stepped out of the wings and put his bag down. Karl, Yann, and Scorpius were standing onstage, while Craig was at the lighting booth loudly talking to someone on the phone. They all stopped and looked at him and Craig said, “Uhh, he’s just arrived. Yeah, no, he literally just walked in… Rose! I’m not going to say that -”

“Where the hell have you been?” Karl snapped.

Albus flinched. Karl never raised his voice. “Is this everyone?”

Craig, who had come down from the lighting booth and joined them onstage, crossed his arms and said, “Rose canceled rehearsal. She’s out looking for you with Astoria.”

“We don’t need them to block the scene. Yann knows what they’re doing.”

Yann put their hands on their hips and frowned. “We should wait until they get back and then decide what to do.”

“We don’t have the time. We open in two weeks, your show opens next week,” He explained, already taking his coat off and eyeing the rapiers. “We should get this over with.”

Albus tossed his coat aside and stared at Yann, who stared back. He knew they wouldn’t be able to argue with his reasoning. Yann was spread thin. Between uni work and his job and choreographing two shows, it was almost impossible to find the time to work on Hamlet’s blocking. Yann raised an eyebrow and Albus inclined his head, trying to communicate that he was fine and that he just wanted to get this over with.

“Alright. We’ll do it,” they relented. But before Albus could say anything, Yann leaned in and added, “But we need to talk afterwards, okay?”

He nodded. He’d expected this. “Fine.”

With that, Yann cleared his throat and addressed everyone, “We’ll do 5.1 first and ease into 5.2. Hopefully by the time we’ve started 5.2, Astoria and Rose will be back.” He looked over at Craig, who glanced up from his phone and shrugged. “Or not. We’ll see.”

They hadn’t covered much of 5.1 yet in rehearsals. It was a handful of scenes that took place in the graveyard, as Hamlet returned from England and Ophelia was buried. Laertes, distraught with grief and anger at his sister’s lack of burial rights, leaped into her grave so that he might hold her one last time. And Hamlet, seeing this, made himself known and declared that his love was stronger than his. They fought over her body and Laertes had to be dragged off Hamlet before he murdered him on sight for his father’s death.

It was an intense scene that Albus had been dreading for a while. Yann had only come in once before to look at the blocking for it, hoping to cover it a lot more thoroughly at the fight call. Without Polly to stand in for Ophelia’s body, Craig offered to take her place, and Albus watched in silence as he climbed into the grave. He could feel everyone looking at him, but he still refused to make eye contact. He just wanted to focus on the play. I loved Ophelia, he recited, in his head. Forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum...

“Hold off the earth a while,” he heard Karl speak, and finally glanced up at him, where he stood staring down into the grave. He hadn’t realised Yann had started the scene, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts. “Till I have caught her once more in mine arms.” He wiped a sleeve over his eyes and climbed into the grave, gathering Craig into his arms and holding him to his chest, before glaring up at Yann and Scorpius. His eyes were full of tears, but his mouth was set with determination.

“Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, till of this flat a mountain you have made,” Karl continued, breathing ragged sobs into Craig’s green beanie. “To o’ertop old Pelion or the skyish head of blue Olympus!”

“What is he who’s grief bears such an emphasis?” Albus asked, approaching the grave just as Karl looked up at him with fury. “Whose phrase of sorrow conjures the wand’ring stars, and makes them stand like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane.”

Albus climbed into the grave and Karl was immediately upon him, his hand on his throat as the other clutched Craig ever closer. “The devil take thy soul!” He growled.

“Thou pray’st not well -” Albus struggled under his grasp, snatching at his arms and chest as he feigned an attempt to force him off. But Karl was vicious in his hold on Hamlet, glaring at him with a fire in his eyes that shocked Albus to his core. “I prithee take thy fingers from my throat! For, though I am not splenitive and - and rash, yet I -” He stumbled over the words, and Karl’s grasp weakened. Albus took advantage of the momentary lapse and tried to shove him away, but Karl was relentless. “I have in me something dangerous, which let thy wisdom fear! Hold off thy hand!”

“Pluck them asunder!” Yann read for the King, as he and Scorpius dragged Karl out of the grave. He kicked and howled as Albus glared up at him, holding Craig to his chest.

“Good, my lord, be quiet,” Scorpius hissed at him as Horatio.

“Why, I will fight with him upon this theme, until my eyelids no longer wag!” He gasped, shifting his hold on Craig, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into his shoulder with a barely suppressed sob. He waited for the Queen’s line, or for Yann to call the end of the scene, but they never did, so he continued, “I loved Ophelia! Forty thousand brothers could not with all their quantity of love make up my sum!”

He glanced up and only saw Karl’s expression of growing concern, and it made him furious. So he set Craig down against the wall of the grave and stood up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. He was going off script, ignoring lines and the horrified looks of Yann and Scorpius, but he had to get it out. “What wilt thou do for her? Hmm?” Karl blinked and looked away, which only antagonized Hamlet even more. “‘Swounds, show me what thou’t do! Would weep? Would fight? Would fast? Would tear thyself? I’ll do it! Dost thou come to whine? To outface me by leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I!”

“Albus!” Yann shouted, and Albus flinched as he looked over at them. “That’s enough.”

“Sorry,” he said, taking a step back and looking down at his feet. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel sweat dripping down his neck. “I got carried away.”

Somewhere above him, Yann sighed and flicked back through their notes. “It’s fine. But our stopping point for tonight's rehearsal is Horatio’s line - ‘Good, my lord, be quiet.’ And Hamlet climbs out of the grave on the Queen’s line - ‘This is mere madness.’ We can do a full run through of the scene once Astoria and Rose get back, if you want.”

Albus nodded and sat down on the edge of the grave. Craig stood up and joined him and, if he saw the way that his hands were shaking and his bottom lip was trembling, he didn’t say anything about it.

Yann tapped his pen against his chin and stared down into the grave. “I’m just not sure about the way Hamlet is jumping in after Laertes. It doesn’t feel natural,” he mused.

Craig cleared his throat and raised a hand. “I know I’m supposed to be dead, but…” Albus chuckled at that, in spite of himself, although the sound was hollow. “Could Laertes pull Hamlet into the grave? Rather than jumping in after him?”

Yann considered, for a moment. But then their phone went off and they sighed. “Can we take five? Erin is calling me.”

As Yann took the call, Albus waited for a comment from Karl about Erin - the director of the musical Yann was working on, and the “villain who kept stealing their choreographer” - but it never came. He glanced over and watched as Scorpius and Karl spoke to each other in hushed tones, near the front of the stage. He knew they were talking about him, from the way they kept stealing glances at him. Something about the sight of it made his heart clench in his chest - made him want to get up and leave again.

But then Craig suddenly rested his head on Albus’s shoulder, distracting him from Karl and Scorpius’s secret conversation. “I don’t know how you actors do it,” he said, with a yawn. “It’s very exhausting, being dead.”

Albus gave him a weak smile. “I’m still not an actor,” he replied, aware of the irony considering his outburst just moments ago. “Say the word and I’ll come running back to the design department.”

“I wish you would. It’s lonely up in the rigs and the lighting desk without you.” He paused and rested his chin on Albus’s shoulder, staring up at him with those dark eyes. “Where did you go last night? We were worried about you.”

catch the irony of Craig's role in this scene :')

#Ask #Anonymous #Cursed Child #ccsquad #as I do thee