If I Knew Then What I Know Now: Chapter Four

After a while, Landon's eyes slowly opened, and he sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was on a bed. An  actual  clean, larger bed. He hadn't been in one of those for... a while. He felt drained of energy and a bit nauseous. Landon forced down the nausea and focused on everything. His backpack was leaning up against the nightstand on the ground near the bed. He clenched the sheets and looked down at his shirt. He had a different shirt on than before, one that wasn't bloody and torn.

"You're awake" A familiar voice spoke out from near the doorway. He didn't need to turn his head to know who was standing there, watching him.

"Hope" he greeted. "Yeah, I am. How long have I been out?"

"A little less than a day" Hope walked over and took a seat on the bed with Landon. "I shouldn't be here long. It's not safe for you to be around me, but I wanted to see you again. Before..." she fell quiet.  She cleared her throat. "You have a bit of a fever that spiked. Here. It's an herbal mixture. It should help finish up cooling you down more than what I've already done"  She offered him a small glass of a yellowish liquid.

Landon took the glass and drank the liquid inside. "Thank you" he said.

"You're welcome" the tribrid took the glass back from him. She tucked her hair behind her ear and focused on him. "Now what did you mean when you said 'not you'? That's different than refusing to drink blood at all"

Landon didn't answer her and instead pushed himself up. How could he possibly explain everything to her? It was crazy for him to believe, and he lived it. Hope stood up and moved closer to him, placing a hand on his  back to steady him. Her eyes showed concern as she watched him carefully.

"Take it easy. Landon. You seem exhausted"

"I'll be fine. I'm all healed, remember?  I can handle a fever and nausea and lightheadedness. It's mild. It could be worse"

Landon gave her a small smile as he  spoke, grateful it wasn't affecting him  worse. Being Malivore's son certainly came with problems, more than having Malivore constantly send monsters after him over and over again so that he could be possessed by his father. No, that wasn't all. He also had to react badly to hybrid and tribrid and probably regular vampire blood.

"Just get some rest" the tribrid said, looking at him. "My family doesn't mind." She gently nudged him back towards the bed. He sighed softly and sat down on the bed before laying on it and staring at the ceiling. "Good. Look, I'm sorry about... what I did to you. It was an accident. I was lashing out at my Uncle Elijah, and when you came in, I wasn't really paying attention to who you were. I just got caught up in anger. It's not an excuse though"

"It's fine, Hope. I forgive you. So is attacking relatives with super powers something you usually do?" he asked, looking up at her.

"No. No it's not. And what I did was... magic. Magic's real and so are vampires and werewolves but you don't need to worry about that. Just get rested and you can get back to your normal life"

She turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Landon sighed a little and stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything. He felt drained of energy, but he knew he could do what he needed to do to leave. He'd give himself a little longer here before leaving. However, his mind then drifted to what he knew about Hope during this time period. If she was attacking her uncle violently  like that, she had to have consumed the Hollow's magic by now. Which meant she was slowly dying, growing weaker with each passing moment.

He couldn't leave her like this, no matter how screwed up he was. He had to help her. And then he could worry about how he was handling things. How he wasn't the same Landon he had been when she gave him the page that listed how she viewed him. Though before he could do any of that, he needed to rest and recover from the vampire blood that had passed through his system. He sighed and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift off to sleep a bit, hoping he would feel back to normal once he woke up again.

Eventually, Landon woke up again and sat up, still feeling a little off but better than before. Sunlight was streaming through his window. He put on his jacket that he saw folded on the dresser.  He grabbed his bag and opened it before pulling out one of blades and concealing it in his jacket. He zipped up his bag and headed downstairs with it. He suddenly heard muffled voices from a side room and looked towards it before looking away.

"Landon, is it?" questioned the mostly unfamiliar voice of Hope's father.

Landon turned his head to look at him. "Yes, that's me"

"Have you ever been to New Orleans before?" Klaus questioned, walking closer to him.

"Once briefly about a year and a half ago"

"Have you tried beignets before, Landon?"

"No, sir,  I haven't" Landon replied Klaus chuckled a little at the word sir being used. He certainly wasn't used to people who weren't full of fear and trying to please him. And even then, it had been a while. "Well, then, you should probably try them while you are here. Come on" he said and led Landon to the dining room. "Make yourself comfortable"

Landon looked at Klaus and took a seat at the long table, looking around a little curiously. He set his backpack down on the ground near him.  Klaus came back with two plates of beignets and set one down in front of Landon before taking a seat himself. Landon looked at the original hybrid curiously. He had read first hand in Dr. Saltzman's books all Klaus had done, but when he looked at him all he really saw was Hope's father. The man who would/had died for her.  But Landon did not want that to happen again. He did not want Hope to lose her family members again. Though he wished that he could have gone back in time soon enough to save her mother as well. Unfortunately, his luck never seemed to go that well.

"You seem unsurprised about the supernatural existing" Klaus  said "Well, you saving my life does help with my perspective" Landon said, looking at him.  "And I trust Hope. Even though she magically hurt me" He would never stop trusting her. Landon looked at the sugary breakfast in front of him. He picked up a beignet and took a bite, sugar falling a little on his shirt in the process.  "I didn't realize you  knew my daughter so well that you trust her. Or perhaps you simply trust easily" "I don't. Trust easily. However, I do trust her" Landon said, looking at Klaus, his expression serious.  "Did Hope tell you about her family when she went to check up on you?" "No, she didn't"  "Well, I am the Original hybrid, part vampire and part werewolf. The rest of my siblings are Original vampires, except Freya who is a witch. We are 1000 years old and are very protective of our family. Killing people that pose a threat to us. Do you have any family, Landon?" "My mother and brother died. Other than that, I have no one I consider family"  Landon said, taking another bite of a beignet.

Malivore certainly did not count. He wanted to use Landon as a vessel and consume all supernatural creatures, including his friends. And Clarke.... well... Clarke was the whole reason Malivore rose. He tossed the final artifact in and was the reason the vase was put in Malivore as well. He's the reason Hope had to sacrifice herself. And he was the reason Josie went dark, which resulted in several other problems.

"I have lost a mother and brother as well" Klaus said, "though I killed my mother. Twice. As well as my fathers. Both biological and not" Klaus said calmly, watching him as he ate as well, despite not needing to. "You seem very cautious, even before you knew what I was"  "I've been through  a lot recently" "Please, enlighten me" "It's something I don't want to talk about. Not because I don't trust you or Hope or anything but simply because I don't feel comfortable discussing it at all" "I noticed your scars and your burn marks" Klaus said, and Landon's hand subconsciously drifted to his arm, powder getting on his jacket. "What happened?" "My foster dad used to burn me with cigarettes"  Something shifted in Klaus' expression as he looked at Landon, the same way it had when he saw Marcel being abused so many years ago. It was something he could relate to very much. He was silent for a moment, his gaze lowering, and he took a bite of his beignet to fill the silence.

Landon was grateful for the silence, still not used to being around people. He continued eating, thinking about everything going on. He knew a lot happened in this time frame, and he wanted to be able to help.  Finally, he spoke up again "Is something... wrong with Hope? She seems to be... hurting, I don't know" "She's going through a lot right now after taking in some dark magic. But that is not your concern. Now finish eating" Landon continued eating and looked at him a bit. His head turned as he heard someone quietly approaching before they were in sight. It was Hope "Hey" Hope greeted, looking at the two. She didn't show it visibly but Landon could tell by the look in her eye that she was in pain. "I went to check on you, but you were already up"  "Yeah. I'm feeling better now. Mostly anyways. Better enough. Thank you for the.. herbal mixture that you gave me" Landon said, looking at her "You're welcome"  Hope said. Landon finished up his beignets, and Hope walked over to Landon. "It was really nice seeing you again." She looked at him and turned away as Klaus approached.

Klaus stepped in front of Landon, who slowly stood up, his bag in hand. "You do not remember anything unusual about Hope or the rest of the family. You saw nothing supernatural. You ran into Hope near our family home. It was getting late so we invited you in to stay the night. When you woke up, you had breakfast with me and are now leaving this city and are not going to think twice about what you could have had for Hope. You are going to find somewhere to live away from that foster dad you mentioned and have a happy human life, safe and away from New Orleans." "Are you out of your minds? How could I forget any of this?" Landon questioned. "Did you do it wrong?" Hope questioned.  "I'm a thousand years old. I am fairly certain I know how to compel people" Klaus replied "Well, it didn't work."  "Obviously it didn't work. He has been here so he couldn't have had vervain. If he can't be compelled, it can only mean one thing. That he is a supernatural being. Unless, of course, he had vervain with him that he took before coming downstairs." Klaus moved at vampire speed to grab the bag from Landon, who instinctively moved defensively but was too slow. Klaus tossed Hope the bag, and she opened it.

"Weapons?" Hope  questioned in confusion, her tone wary as she slowly looked back up at Landon, a wooden weapon in her hand. "You're a hunter?" Landon's lips parted open for a moment before he closed them. "No. Not in the way you are thinking. I swear. Look, we can talk about this. I wanted to when I first saw you, but I had no idea how to explain it"

Klaus moved at vampire speed, pinning Landon to the wall. Landon looked at Klaus, unafraid. "Is that so? Who are you?" he questioned, his grip tightening a bit. "Hope, keep looking"  "My name is Landon Kirby. I wasn't lying. I haven't lied to either of you. Except for why I came here. And that was only kind of a lie"

Hope shuffled through his bag. "I don't see any vervain. He couldn't be on it unless he hid it somewhere" "I can't be compelled"  "Well then I guess you have a lot of explaining to do" Hope said and waved a hand. "Ad somnum" Landon Kirby fell to the ground, unconscious.

lookalike (bill denbrough)

request: do you write for 2017 bill denbrough? and if so could you write a fic based on lookalike by conan gray or first aid by gus dapperton for him? ty

warnings: angst, swearing, no cheating but questionable ethics in a relationship

[losers&reader are 17/18 here]

bill denbrough is an easy person to love. he is not an easy person to get over.

it’s not for lack of trying, really. god, you’ve been trying for years, ever since he helped you understand an equation in your shared math class. he’d smiled at you and you were gone.

at one time, you’d held on to a foolish hope that he would feel the same way and the two of you would start dating, but as time went on that hope dwindled. bill was constantly surrounded by different girls and would never like you back, much less love you, and that was just the way things were. you needed to accept that.

it’s partially how you find yourself dating jacob.

part of you knows it’s not right. sure, jacob is sweet and kind and treats you well, and yes, you do genuinely like him, but the reason you’d said yes when he shyly asked you on a date is because you saw bill in his smile. it’s not fair to him, but you look at him and it is bill that crosses your mind.

still, one date turns into two turns into three turns into seven, and soon you find yourself with a boyfriend.

you do your best to keep jacob away from the losers. you don’t want them to look at him and see the truth; you especially don’t want bill to look at him and connect the dots. you’re happy with jacob, happier than you think you deserve to be, but there’s a line you can’t bring yourself to cross.

the losers know you have a boyfriend, and they know who jacob is, but you’ve successfully avoided having to introduce the two. it’s surprisingly easy, as the one class you share with jacob is the one class you don’t share with the rest of the losers, and jacob doesn’t have the same lunch as you all do. you can laugh with your friends and avoid looking at bill and pretend everything’s alright.

as most things do these days, it crumbles when you least expect it.

you’re sitting in english one day, richie on your left, the two of you giggling about one thing or another. it’s just the two of you in this class, all the other losers in the other section, so it’s natural for you to joke the class away. it’s what you expect every time you walk through the door.

today, though, richie’s giggles gradually slow until he’s just grinning at you, huge and unabashed. “god, you’re a riot, doll,” he says, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “you and me, we should ride off together into the sunset, leave all the others behind.”

you snort, turning back to your worksheet. “in your dreams,” you snark back, carefully writing an answer down. “besides, i’m a taken woman, tozier.”

it’s seemingly innocuous enough, something you’re certain you’ve said in response to his flirting in the short months you and jacob have been dating. richie’s never mentioned it before, preferring to just change the subject and rile you up until you threaten to punch him.

today, though, today richie stiffens. he pulls away from you slowly, and there’s this look in his eyes that you had been trying to avoid since jacob asked you on a date. it’s uncomfortably knowing, and maybe a little sad, and all at once you’re begging the universe to speed up time until you can get out of this class.

but the universe has never listened to what you’ve wanted before and it’s not about to start now. richie sighs and says, uncharacteristically gentle, “you have to know that we’ve noticed.”

you glare down at your worksheet. your hand grips your pencil so tightly your knuckles turn white. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“oh, so you don’t want to talk about how jacob looks just like bill?”

there is a snapping sound. for a brief, wild moment, you are certain it is your heart, breaking in jagged halves down the fault lines that erupted when you realized you could never have bill the way you wanted. it is only when richie swears and reaches for your hand that you realize you have broken your pencil in two.

all at once, you want to cry. you let richie take the mangled pencil and smooth the graphite from your palm, all the while struggling to keep your tears in. you feel as if there is a bomb sitting in your chest that is about to detonate.

sometimes you forget how good of a friend richie can be. he doesn’t say anything, just digs a new pencil out of his bag and wraps his arm around your shoulder again. the silence isn’t a good look on him but you can tell he’s waiting for you to speak. if you want to talk about it, he’ll listen, but if you change the subject he won’t push you. it’s all up to you.

you decide to bite the bullet. your hand hurts and your heart hurts and you crave, suddenly, to tell someone else about your feelings.

“i don’t know what to do,” you admit quietly, staring down at the table. you are fiercely glad that you and richie have always sat in the back corner, so that there is no one to stare at you as you feel like breaking down.

richie hums. “about bill, or about jacob?”

you shrug, the heavy weight of richie’s arm making it smaller than you’d intended. “both. neither.” you smile; it is more of a grimace. “i don’t suppose you have any advice?”

richie looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “well, i’ll admit, i’ve never been in this situation before, buuuuut how about you enlighten me and i’ll see what i can do?”

you laugh softly, trying to keep it from sounding bitter. “what do you want to know?”

“why did you start dating jacob? why are you still dating jacob?” he pauses, just briefly, and murmurs, “when did you start liking bill?”

you sigh. you take the pencil richie had grabbed for you, doodling aimlessly across the bottom of your worksheet. “he asked me on a date,” you whisper. “and... i know he looks like bill, and yeah, at first that’s why i said yes, and i know that’s awful but i just... i needed to get over him, y’know? I’ve liked him since i met him. but jacob is funny and he’s sweet and i do like him. really, i do. it’s just...”

“you like bill more,” richie finishes for you.

you’re silent for a long moment, feeling your heart pound in your chest, and shakily mumble, “i don’t just like him.”

richie goes still. he, too, is quiet for a while, before he murmurs back, “you love him.”

you nod, miserably. you can’t look at richie as the tears brim in your eyes again. “i can’t get over him. i’ve tried so hard and nothing works. and i don’t want to hurt jacob but i know it isn’t fair to him. i just don’t know what to do.”

for a moment, you can tell richie must be thinking of telling you to confess your feelings to bill, but even he seems to realize how pointless that is. instead, he just hugs you closer to his side and admits, “i don’t think i’m qualified to tell you what you should do. but i’m here for you if you need anything.” then, his tone shifts into one of the ridiculous voices he does, and he crows, “you can always come here for some good ol’ tozier lovin’!”

you laugh and push him away, sliding your worksheet closer to finish it before the bell rings. you still feel heavy and upset but you’ve rewound the timer on the explosion waiting to happen and that, you think, should be enough.

the topic of jacob doesn’t get brought up by another loser for another few weeks, and when it does it’s by the loser you were desperately hoping it wouldn’t be.

it’s not the best course of action, but after your talk with richie you decide the right thing to do is to avoid bill. it is, after all, only torture for you to try and just be his friend, and maybe if you stay away from him for a bit you can get over your ridiculous feelings.

the problem with avoiding bill is that he’s everywhere you go.

it’s not enough to just avoid him outside of school because school proves to be the hardest part. your classes are almost all shared with him, and lunch comes with him always sitting across from you. every time he laughs, every time he smiles, you feel your heart clench.

you take to pairing up with other people whenever you need to get work done in the classes you share with bill, determinedly not watching his face fall. you eat your lunch in the bathroom, the one place bill cannot follow you into, and you feel hollow. the other losers recognize something is wrong and they all look as knowing as richie had before your conversation. you can’t face them either.

you throw yourself into trying to love jacob, spending as much time as you can with him outside of school. you go to the movies, you go to the arcade, you spend quiet nights on his couch. you laugh with him in the hallways and hold his hand in between classes and try not to feel like it’s fake.

you weren’t lying when you told richie that you did like jacob. he’s as perfect for you as you think you could ever get; he laughs at your jokes, he kisses you like you’re precious, he holds you as gently as possible. the problem has never been him. the problem is that you don’t want perfect. you want rough and wild and free, you want someone who isn’t afraid to challenge you and is as fierce as he is beautiful. you want bill.

now, you’re exiting the school an hour after it had gotten out. you’d been talking with a teacher, trying to understand an assignment, and you’re trying to get out as quickly as possible to meet jacob at the movies like you’d promised.

you’re in a rush, and that’s why you don’t immediately notice bill when you go to grab your bike.

you falter to a stop, staring into his eyes. he looks like he’s been waiting for you but that can’t be right. the other losers have to be with him. but you can see all of their bikes are gone, except for yours, nestled right next to silver, and the bomb in your chest gives a violent shudder.

you were wrong. the time away from bill has not dulled your feelings. if anything, they feel sharper now, burning and tearing and aching inside of you. you feel like you are a live wire under his gaze.

neither of you speak for so long that you’re certain no one will, before bill swallows and shakily says, “h-hi, (y/n).”

your pulse is roaring in your ears and your hands shake at your sides, but you somehow manage to get out, “hey, bill.”

you go silent again. you don’t know what to say to him and you don’t know why he’s here but the sight of him makes something inside of you tremble. you want nothing more than to act as if nothing is wrong but you know that would crumble your walls and all of this would be for naught. you need to get over him. maybe then you can be friends again.

when it becomes clear you won’t say anything, bill sighs, pushing off of the wall he had been sitting on. he walks towards you but stops a few paces from you. you can’t decide if you want him closer or farther away. “w-w-why are y-you a-avoiding m-m-me?”

your stomach curdles. you plaster a smile on your face. “i’m not avoiding you, big bill,” you lie. “i’ve just been busy lately.”

you’d thought it would make bill relax, but his expression tightens further. there is something dark in his tone when he says, “w-with y-your boyfriend?”

it punches straight through you. “among other things, yeah,” you say casually, as if you are not crumbling apart the longer you stand in front of him. “i’m actually supposed to meet him, so if you’ll excuse me.”

you move around him to unlock your bike from the rack. your hands are shaking still but your back is to him, so you’re hoping he won’t notice. you rush yourself, trying to get out of there as quickly as possible, but you freeze when he asks, without stuttering, “why are you dating him?”

your breathing falters. a cold rush climbs over your skin and you are suddenly deeply aware that you will not get out of this unscathed. still, you try to keep your voice steady. “what do you mean?”

he scoffs. the sound is enough to whirl you around to look at him. you’re surprised by the sneer on his face. “h-he’s n-not good e-enough f-f-for y-you, (y/n). w-what d-do you e-even see i-in h-him?”

you swallow, hoping your expression won’t give you away. “i like him. he treats me really well.”

you’re purposefully vague and you hope that it will be enough to get you out of here, but you should’ve known better. bill has always known you more than you wanted to admit and a few weeks apart has done nothing to change that.

he rolls his eyes, taking a step closer. like this, he towers over you. “n-no, y-you don’t. i-i know you d-don’t.”

your blood freezes. you are so stricken you can do nothing beyond whisper, “what?”

he’s so close you could reach out and touch him. as it is, your hands hang limply at your sides. you are aware of nothing beyond how horrified you feel and the way you want the ground to swallow you whole.

bill doesn’t stop. “y-you d-don’t like h-him, (y/n). y-you l-like m-me.”

your cheeks flame enough that you slowly begin to unthaw, instantly beginning to shake your head. it’s weak because there’s no way you can truly dispute what he’s saying but you want to try anyways. “that’s not—that’s not true, i don’t—”

“i-it’s o-okay,” bill interrupts you. there’s something manic in his eyes. “i-i l-like you t-too, y-you d-don’t need t-t-to be w-with h-him a-anymore.”

whatever you were expecting him to say, it sure as hell wasn’t that. you’re already wide-eyed by the beginning of his sentence, but when he keeps going your blood begins to boil. your voice is dangerous when you murmur, “what did you just say?”

bill smiles, incorrectly assuming you’re happy. you aren’t at all, but he barrels on with the same determination that makes all of you gravitate around him. “y-you don’t n-need t-to b-be with h-him a-anymore,” he repeats, pleased. “w-we c-can be t-together n-now.”

you are suddenly so furious that something red bleeds into the edges of your vision. you want to scream, you want to cry, you want to snap ten thousand pencils in half. your rage bleeds into your voice as you spit, “oh, since you said it, it must come true, right?”

he blinks, confused, but you can’t stop. you laugh hollowly, feeling your lips contort with your snarl. maybe it’s not fair to get so angry with him but the emotion that has been building inside of you is bubbling and spilling over. you are a powder keg about to explode.

“did you ever stop to think that maybe i’m dating jacob because i actually like him? or are you so far up your own ass that you assumed i was only dating him until you finally decided you wanted me?” your words are barbs and you intend to land them where it will hurt. “oh, of course i was just waiting for you, huh? just sitting on the sidelines until you noticed me, is that it?”

his confusion quickly gives way to anger, his gaze sparking hotly. “d-don’t p-pretend y-you w-weren’t,” he scoffs, glaring down at you. “i-i k-know y-y-you’ve liked m-me s-since we m-met.”

“so fucking what?” you hiss, stepping forward until you’re chest to chest. you are nearly vibrating with your fury. “that doesn’t matter! you’re expecting me to drop a relationship i’m happy in just because you asked me to!”

“b-bullshit,” he snaps back at you. “y-you a-aren’t h-happy and y-you k-k-know it!”

you need something to do with your hands or else you’re certain you’re going to punch him. you whirl away from him, making quick work of putting your bike lock in your backpack and roughly yanking your bike out of its slot.

“you don’t know how i feel,” you growl back at him, hands tightening around the handles of your bike. jacob is probably waiting for you by now; it adds to your anger.

bill throws up his hands, getting closer to you again. “y-yes i d-do!”

you laugh; it is a bitter sound. “and how do you know how i feel, bill?”

“b-because y-you’re j-just dating m-m-my l-lookalike!” he screams.

your red-hot anger disappears. in its place is a rage so frigid, so savage, that you are certain it will tear you apart. there is violence simmering in your veins and you need to get out of here before you do something you regret. too bad your mouth didn’t get the memo.

you snort, pushing yourself onto your bike. your heart is frozen in your chest but you calmly meet his eyes, hoping the smile on your mouth is as saccharine sweet as it is biting. when you speak, your voice is quieter than you thought you were capable of. “you don’t get to do this to me, bill. you don’t get to string me along like one of your little play things and then decide you finally want me. you had your chance.” your smile shifts into a snarl. “jacob may look like you but he is ten times the man you will ever be.”

bill stumbles back from the venom in your voice. you want to say more but you don’t think you could say anything without sobbing, so you turn your back on him. the glide of your bike down the sidewalk isn’t loud enough to drown out the swearing behind you but you pretend it is.

tears drip down your cheeks. you were wrong when you talked to richie; the bomb that has been living inside of you hadn’t detonated then. it had been ticking down to this exact moment.

this is the explosion you thought you were ready for. you just wish it had disintegrated you, too.

(part two here)

I Didn’t Want to Need You Dean Winchester x Reader 1900 words Warnings: sex, mostly. Feelings, pining, hope.  Song:  “I Didn’t Want To Need You” by Heart. ...

Baby, I never gave my heart to anyone, oh no Used to think that love was a game I used to make it just for fun

It was really something, how perfectly a song could express what you were feeling when you couldn't even find the words yourself. Dean shook his head and pressed the Impala's gas pedal down harder. 

He had a long drive to make in a short time, but it wasn't just the miles he had to cover. He had to close the distance between what he had done and what he wanted to do. He had to try and get back someone he had lost.

When we spent the night together Didn't mean it meant that much Now I just can't live without your touch

Dean remembered the case where they had met, vaguely -- monsters terrorizing a college town, and her younger sister in danger, text messages about the case. 

He remembered her final text more clearly, her offer to take him out to dinner and show her appreciation. Dinner was just another meal, but he never forgot what came next.

The Impala, in a dark corner of the parking lot. 

The way their teeth knocked together during their hasty first kiss. 

The feel of her warm skin under his fingertips.

The sounds that fell from her lips as their bodies came together. 

He could see her face in flashes, in the headlights of passing cars, but he remembered her expressions like snapshots: desire, wonder, passion.

He remembered waking up in her dorm room bed the next morning, and the oddest feeling of being at peace.

I didn't want to need you, no I didn't want to want you like I do I didn't mean to fall Didn't want to care at all I didn't want to need you Like I need you now

Dean remembered thinking that was the end of it, that when he drove away, he'd leave her behind with the case. 

He didn't remember who texted first, or when it became a daily thing. He did recall his surprise when he realized he was falling asleep with his phone in his hand and checking it the moment he woke up, waiting to hear from her. 

I can't get no sleep 'Cause I keep thinking of you all through the night Oh yeah

Dean smiled wryly as the miles rolled away under the Impala's tires. Driving to meet her again seemed all too familiar.

The Winchesters were constantly on the move from case to case, no real place to call home. As often as he could, Dean found ways to take a road that led to her. 

Even once they moved into the bunker, she was close enough that he could see her sometimes. He didn't remember every detail of every night. What he did know was that every moment spent with her was bright. 

Dean could never put into words exactly what she meant to him. They weren't dating, not really, but there was something that kept them coming back to one another, over and over. 

Whatever he called it, what the two of them shared was special. It was different, she was different than anything else in Dean's life.

They didn’t talk specifically about a future together. But he did assume that they had years to figure it out.

My eyes can't wait to see you again My arms can't wait to hold you tight oh yeah And when you're laying here beside me There is nothing else I need Never thought that this could ever be.

He did remember, so clearly, the moment he realized he had been wrong. They had been lying naked in one another’s arms, enjoying that post-sex bliss, when she told him that she was saying goodbye. She was moving back home, back East, after graduation. 

Dean remembered the look of hope in her eyes as she waited for him to say something, anything, that would keep them together. He remembered the way that hope faded when he didn’t -- because he didn’t have anything to offer her. 

I've always been free To leave when I want to leave But it's not up to me anymore I didn't want to need you

Driving back to the bunker, leaving her behind, felt like leaving a part of himself behind. He pounded his fists on the steering wheel, cursing. Why did everyone he loved always have to leave?

Love. 

He loved her and didn't want to lose her. But the life of a hunter didn’t provide stability or safety. He couldn’t ask her to give up everything for him.

When he pulled up at the bunker, he put his head in his hands. One tear slipped down his cheek. He was so torn between wanting her and wanting what was best for her. 

He woke up the next morning with an ache in his chest. He felt hollow and breathless like someone had kicked him. Every time he thought about her, he felt like he was choking.

He didn't know how to plan for a future with her. But thinking about a future without her ripped the bottom right out of his world. 

He paced the halls of the bunker, shaking his head and clenching his fists as he argued with himself. His mind and heart were choked by memories of her, by dreams of the future he had let slip away. 

I didn't want to need you, no I didn't want to want you like I do I didn't mean to fall Didn't want to care at all

It was after midnight when Dean gave up on trying to sleep. 

Finally, he grabbed the keys to the Impala and hit the road. He didn’t really have a plan for what he would say. He just knew that he needed to see her again. 

She knew who he was, knew what his life was. He didn't have much to offer, but everything he had would be hers if she wanted.

He drove all night, letting himself remember all the good times that they had shared. Letting himself dream of holding her again. Letting himself hope. 

I didn't want to need you But I need you now

Dean arrived at her door just as the sun came up. He knew his face was scruffy and his hair was a mess. 

He knocked and she opened the door. His eyes locked on hers. 

Had she gotten even more beautiful overnight?!

His heart was pounding so hard he was pretty sure she could hear it from where she stood. 

“Dean,” she gasped, her eyes going wide with surprise. 

He took one step towards her and held out his hand. Next thing he knew, she was in his arms. She nuzzled into his chest and he felt like his heart stopped. 

He whispered her name, his voice low and ragged.

For a minute he just savored the feeling of having her close, of her skin under his hands. She fit so perfectly into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin and her body against his. 

Then he slipped a hand under her chin and tilted her face up to his. Her gaze was locked on him, wide open and hopeful. She was the only person in the world for him.

Their lips met in a searching kiss that started out sweet and ended up desperate. 

Dean leaned his forehead down to hers. He was afraid that if he started to speak, he would start sobbing instead. 

Finally, he choked out a few words: "I need you. Baby, please don't go."

She nodded wordlessly. 

She held out her hand and pulled Dean into the room, closing the door behind them. Inside, he pushed her up against the wall. She threw her arms around his neck as they kissed hungrily. Her fingers ran up into his hair as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

His hands cupped her ass to pull her closer to him. She ground against him where he was already hard. He pinned her hips back with his own and she whimpered.

"Wait," she gasped, "Hang on." 

She took his hand and together they ran up the stairs and to her bedroom. As she locked the door, Dean covered her neck and shoulders with kisses. 

She spun around to face him and reached for him.

"I can't let you go," he said, wrapping her in his arms. "You, me, we'll find a way to make this work. I'm not exactly sure how. My future is always uncertain, but I know I don't want a future without you. 

Please, I need you."

She nodded, hesitant at first. Then she reached up to cradle his face in her hands. "Dean, I've been waiting for you to ask me. I need you too. We can figure out the future, as long as it's together."

He lowered his mouth and kissed her again. Then he pressed her back on the bed. For just a moment, he paused to take in the beautiful sight in front of him. She was naked except for a bra and panties, her skin pale and soft. Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts rose with every heaving breath. Her face had that look that Dean knew so well, of desire and wonder. 

Dean knelt down between her thighs and leaned over her. He ran one hand down over the curve of her waist, caressing her leg as he drew her panties off. She rolled her hips open for him.

"Please, Dean," she murmured. She reached for his shoulders to pull him down to her. 

He kissed her as he rocked into her, eating up all the little soft pleasure sounds that she made. Once she had taken him all in, he dragged back to thrust harder. The way she shuddered underneath him made him groan out a curse and move faster.

He was frantic for her, desperate for them to get lost in each other. Her hands wrapped around his arms, grabbing him, holding him. Their bodies moved in sync, pushing one another, begging one another. Together they were erasing their loneliness and loss. 

She arched up against Dean, her knees shaking and her hands curling into fists. He watched as her eyes glazed over. He watched as she pressed her head back, her mouth dropping open in a breathless moan. 

He watched as long as he could, pressing into her deeper as if he could disappear into her entirely. Then he closed his eyes and let himself go.

Dean felt all of his doubt and fear for the future fade away. All that mattered was being together. All that he cared about was having her, holding her. 

As they lay in bed together, tangled in one another's embrace, Dean felt it again- that sense of peace that he knew he only got from being with her. He knew they had a long road ahead of them. 

But now that he had her in his arms again, he was never going to let her go. He caressed her face with his hand, bringing her eyes to his.

"I love you," he said. "I need you."

... @coffee-obsessed-writer tossed out this song prompt a couple of weeks ago. I listened to it and immediately picked up what she was talking about.  Actually writing it, though, was tougher. I wrote about 3 times as many words as what actually made it into the story. I’d like to thank @thoughtslikeaminefield and @there-must-be-a-lock for dedicating an amount of time to this story that was wildly disproportionate to the finished length! I wrote and rewrote and sulked and wrote and argued and wrote again. Thank you, both. ...

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988 @divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma  @mrsjenniferwinchester @supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy

Vessels of the Force

I know I’ve been quiet, but I do want to speak candidly. 

I take great issue with the implications of our characters’ connection to the Force in The Rise of Skywalker. Am I a Ben Solo stan who is still salty that my boy faded into nothingness without a hint of respect for his character growth? Yeah, yeah I am. But more so than that, I am a person trying to navigate a world that seems to be trying to trip me up at every turn and I’m desperate to cultivate some kind of personal guide for that journey of mine. Star Wars, and the idea of the Force, up until this disaster of a film, were large parts of that guide. Now, it feels as hollow and cheap as a dollar store chocolate easter bunny. 

Something that I saw as complex and rich in meaning, teeming with so many glimmering facets to explore and understand and containing the strength to hold up under whatever pressures the world would throw at it - a true diamond in the rough - turned out to be nothing more than a large sugar crystal. Sure it had a bit of sparkle and it was sweet for a bit, but under the heat and pressure of the world, it melted and burned to ash because it wasn’t strong enough on its own and no one was paying close enough attention to care for it. 

But, to continue speaking candidly, I couldn't care less about this disaster of a film, and the poor light it is shining on my beautiful Force diamond. For me, it’s the literal embodiment of “Canon? What canon?” and I couldn’t be more pleased with that choice for myself. 

If I were to pinpoint my exact issue with the film and its interpretation of the Force, it would be centered around the idea of living beings as mines of the Force and not vessels of the Force. Rey’s line “I just transferred a bit of life. Force Energy from me to him” is not the inherent issue. This concept of Force transference is good even, but the further implication that going “all in” and transferring your entire stock of Force Energy to something else necessitates that you just vanish from existence. #BenSoloDeservedBetter

As beings in the universe, we are not Force mines to be exploited and emptied. Our value does not diminish over time as parts of the Force are chipped away from us, either to be willingly given or forcibly taken. We are not an ore mine that will eventually unearth its last ounce of value and then just exist as an empty hole for the rest of eternity. We are living vessels of life, and that life is ever changing inside us. Some days we will feel that the world is demanding so much of that life and we will constantly give it out and feel we are getting nothing in return. Other days, we will feel so full of life that it seems we will burst from it, but the vessel will amazingly always accommodate more. 

Our value is not tied to the quantity or quality of the vessel’s contents, rather our value is constant. No matter how much the energy inside us may feel depleted or heavy or sick, our worth will always be the same. 

A large issue with the idea that our worth is tied to a finite amount of energy inside us is that all acts of selflessness, where energy is freely given, are actually acts of martyrdom. Rey transferring Force Energy from her to a wounded creature is no longer about providing an act of service to a life in need, it’s about choosing to chip away at her own life force in a way that, if done enough times, would actually be her demise. A system that is based on a unsustainable minable energy breeds selfishness and fear, where a user will hesitate to help others out of fear that their last value will be striped away and they will vanish. 

The Force is not meant to be seen as a landfill of energy. As life passes from one being to the next, that energy is renewed, not left to rot and decay. The Force lesson from TLJ highlighted this in such a perfect way. 

Luke Skywalker : What do you see? Rey : The island. Life. Death and decay, that feeds new life. Warmth. Cold. Peace. Violence. Luke Skywalker : And between it all? Rey : Balance and energy. A force. Luke Skywalker : And inside you? Rey : Inside me, that same force.

Sometimes, the Force is like trail mix. All of the parts of it were cultivated together to provide energy and to feed you, but there’s almost always a part that you don’t like as much as the rest. Maybe it's the raisins you don’t like. Maybe you’re just straight up allergic to peanuts (and probably shouldn’t eat the rest, cause like, peanut dust…but try to stick with my analogy here). Maybe the texture of cashews has always just weirded you out slightly. The reality is, if everyone on earth felt exactly the same about trail mix, there would never be a part of it you wouldn’t like. Manufacturers would see that everyone on earth hated raisins and would stop putting them in their trail mixes, but of course some people love raisins, and think they’re the best part of the whole mix. 

Are they wrong for loving raisins? No. 

Are you wrong for hating raisins? Also no. 

Not everyone has to love and eat the trail mix the same way to gain energy from it. A trail mix is a trail “mix” because of its variety. It requires that there be separate and individual pieces brought together to work with one another towards a common goal (the goal of tastiness and hiking energy!). No part is more “right” or “wrong” or “special” than any other part. The Force is not one kind of energy. It contains varied facets that reflect different colors depending on the angle of the light you’re holding it up to. To you, the raisins could be your dark side; the slightly bitter and uncomfortable feeling that gets stuck in the back of your teeth. Or maybe the m&ms are your dark side; the indulgent feeling that has just the right coating of saltiness to be satisfying and motivate you to keep going in the 100 degree heat. Neither is “right” or “wrong”, you just use those energies in unique ways to yourself and your experience. 

Say you’re out on the trail with your partner, and you’ve each got one snack box of trail mix. You hate raisins and they hate cashews. You could probably survive the hike just by picking through the contents of your own box and leaving all the things you don’t want at the bottom, and your partner could do the same. But now it’s getting late in the afternoon, and your box is empty of all the things you want and you’re running out of energy. So you offer your near empty snack box of unwanted raisins to your partner, and they give you their unwanted cashews. Now you each have more energy to complete the hike, and your snack boxes are empty and ready to be refilled with new yummy life-giving foods. 

As soon as your snack boxes were emptied - the contents having been taken and used by those who desired them most - the box did not cease to be useful, but rather is ready to be filled once again. As vessels, cycling through and giving away the life inside us is not a sacrifice, rather a necessary progression to prepare for new life-giving energy. 

There is a distinction to clarify on the idea of beings as vessels of the Force. The reality is that not everything is meant to be kept in a vessel. Vessels are intended for the binary cycle of cultivation and implementation of energies and substances. Vessels are not intended for storage and containment of other living things. A child with the best intentions, who finds a wounded bird in the woods and places it in a closed box for safekeeping, will always end up with a dead bird. A vessel is not intended to sustain a separate living being inside it, as that being requires its own interaction with various energies to survive. Vessels are also not meant as containment units. A fire cannot be saved in a vessel and used later. The fire will use up and exhaust all the energy inside the vessel, and then eventually it will exhaust itself as well. This is where the territory of “beings living inside other beings” doesn’t hold up. 

“Kill me, and my spirit will pass into you”

No. Just. No. 

Can energy be transferred? Sure. If you pour a glass of water into an already half-filled hydro flask, now you have a hydro flask that is filled with more water. But the individual molecules from the glass of water are no different from the ones that were already inside the bottle. They all mix together and are just “water”. Even if the water you poured in was nasty old moldy water, it’s still just a collection of molecules that contain energy. Nothing is binding all the “old” water molecules together in one part of the bottle. There isn’t anything that is binding just those pieces of water to the inside of the vessel permanently. If the user wants to be rid of that energy, it can be transferred back to the universe and renewed an infinite number of times. A being cannot be contained and continue to live within another living vessel, it just doesn’t work that way. 

So how does this all relate to the guide I’m hoping to cultivate for my insane life? It’s about finding a better understanding of my Depression. It’s about welcoming good energy when I feel others sending it my way. It’s about recognizing that in moments I feel empty, my value is not lessened because my energy is depleted. It’s about knowing that even if I feel I only contain one last ounce of energy, if I give it to someone else who needs it more, it will not be my demise. It’s about knowing that energy can be found, transferred, and renewed inside me from every source in the universe. Conversely, that also means that every source has the ability to take away that energy from me, and teaches me to be mindful of the parts of my life that needlessly deplete that energy. It’s about understanding that if energy was given to a source that didn’t appreciate it, that transference was not a was not a waste of my time. All energy given away will be renewed in the universe and I will be ready to accept new energy into myself.  

To me, yes, “The Force” is real. Some days the Force is God. Some days it is the heat from the sun and the wind in the trees and the song of the rainfall. And some days, it is just the breath in my lungs and the beat of my heart. What that energy is for you may be something completely different, but find that energy and let it propel you throughout this crazy journey we call life. 

Bad Day (3) Night

Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien's luckiest day ever! Except it wasn't, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

Ao3 | FF.net

Part 1 Part 2

Sometime, when it was dark out and the house was quiet, Adrien roused from his sleep. It was raining now, the thunder softly rumbling in the distance. He felt gross, having slept in his clothes. His toe hurt, his face ached, and he was so goddamn tired.

But he was also hungry, and his stomach growled loudly.

“…skipped dinner…” he mutter to himself as he sat up. Plagg was passed out next to him, his little tummy bloated.

Adrien changed into his pajamas, intent on going back to sleep after he got some food, and slipped on house slippers.

With a small smile, Adrien scooped Plagg up and deposited him into the pocket of his sweat pants.

Quietly, Adrien left his room, and began to head down the stairs, but stopped, just as he was about to round the corner.

Nathalie and his father were still awake, and they were talking.

“If she’s making these kind of lies up about Adrien, it would be better to drop her as an ally. Adrien’s in enough trouble anyways. I don’t need fabricated problems on him as well.”

“But what about her ability to facilitate akumas? She’s even better than Chloe at it.”

“It’s a shame, but the betrayal she’ll feel at being dropped will cause some perfect anger and rage. There might even be other akuma’s in store too.”

Adrien’s blood ran cold. Why the hell was his father talking about akumas? Why did he care?

“Uh, master?” Asked a very small and timid voice. “You aren’t still thinking about akumatizing Adrien, are you?”

“After the day he had, he would have been perfect. I’ll wait until he wakes up to see what kind of mood he’s in. I could always tell him I’m pulling him out of school for sure. That would put him over the edge.”

Adrien’s fist tightened, as he clawed at the banister. Without his consent, his feet started walking forward, until he was at the top of the stairs.

There, he could see his father and Nathalie seated, and two kwamis floating nearby. One that looked like a butterfly, and the other like a peacock.

He wanted to vomit.

Nathalie noticed him first. “Oh! Adrien!”

The two kwamis ducked out of sight, but it was far too late.

“What…are those?” Adrien’s voice sounded foreign. Angry, cold, hollow.

“You’re awake,” said Gabriel, nervousness leaking into his voice. “Are you hungry? You missed din—“

“You’re Hawkmoth.” He breathed. “And…she’s Mayura….”

“Adrien…” Gabriel said it so gently, reassuringly.

“Don’t lie to me!” He hissed. “I heard you! You said you wanted to akumatize me!”

“Son, come on…” Gabriel reached for him, but he backed away.

Adrien started shaking his head. “This…this can’t be happening. This isn’t real!” He wailed.

Gabriel sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Adrien, I will explain everything. I promise. I’m sorry.”

Adrien just stood and quivered, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Plagg was awake in his pocket, nuzzling against his leg to calm him.

“Come on. I won’t hurt you.” Gabriel beckoned him towards his office.

Everything in Adrien was screaming at him to run. Run far and fast. He’d tell his Lady, and this whole thing would be over. They’d get their happily ever after and this nightmare of a day would be over.

But he couldn’t forgive himself if he went the rest of his life never knowing the ‘why’. So silently, he followed him into his office, up to the painting of his mother.

Gabriel pressed on a set of buttons, and started to descend in an elevator. He was quick to pull Adrien on with him too.

Down they went, down into the depths of the basement. A large room, with a garden at the end.

He had to still be dreaming, right? Surely this was a nightmare induced by his terrible day.

But no. At the end of the walkway laid a garden with dozens of white butterflies fluttering around in the space.

And a glass coffin, with his mother inside.

At the sight of her, Adrien began to cry, fat tears rolling off his cheeks and he was helpless to stop it.

A heavy hand laid on his shoulder. “The peacock miraculous is broken,” he began. “It wears the user out, and makes them sick. Emilie, your mother, wielded it first. Soon, she succumbed to the illness and fell into a long, deep sleep. If I can get my hands on the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous, I can make a wish, and wake her up. Then we’ll be a family again. Don’t you see?”

Adrien’s mouth was too dry, and his words were stuck. He couldn’t even remember to how to speak. All he could see was his mother’s sleeping face. The one he had so desperately missed in this passed year. She looked exactly the same.

“I did this all for you.”

Adrien shook his head, refusing to accept that. “No…no you didn’t.”

“Adrien…” Gabriel began, trying to explain it to him like his was thick.

“No. Because if this was for me, you would have told me right away! You would have let me know that she wasn’t gone! You would have let me see her! I—I miss her so much! And you knew that! But she’s been here this whole time! And you never once told me about it!”

Gabriel held his hand out. “But you know now, and you can help me get the Miraculous.”

“No. Absolutely not. You…you’re crazy if you think I’m going to stay in this goddamn house one more minute! I need—I need to get out of here! How do I get out!?”

Gabriel sighed. “Calm down, Adrien. Let’s talk this through.”

Adrien ran back to the elevator, and pressed an up arrow, the elevator blessedly starting to move.

Upstairs, he burst from the office and practically sprinted up the stairs to his room. In his closet, he dug out his duffle bag and started to pack up his essentials.

Plagg didn’t say a word. What comfort was there to give?

Far too quickly, Gabriel appeared in the doorway. “Adrien, you don’t need to go anywhere. You’re safe here.”

“I don’t feel safe!”

“Adrien, I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You say that now! Now that you’ve been caught!”

“Adrien—“

“You’ve akumatized every single one of my classmates! Some more than once! You constantly make me rub shoulders with people like Lila and Chloe, who brew akumas better than anyone! Now you expect me to believe I’m safe here?! Are you kidding me!?”

“Adrien, calm down.” Gabriel demanded.

“Or what?! You’ll akumatize me!?”

Gabriel didn’t deny it, but the glare on his face showed otherwise. “I forbid you from leaving this house.”

“If you want me to visit you in jail, you’ll stay out of my way.” He bit back.

That did it. The sternness in his eyes gave way to panic, and he stepped aside.

Adrien shouldered his bag and headed down the stairs.

“Your driver will take you to Miss Bourgeois hotel.” Gabriel ordered, so plainly.

“No. He won’t.” Adrien bit, reaching the door. “I’m making my own decisions now. I’m going my own way. All my life, I have done everything I could to please you. To make you proud of me. But I can’t anymore. Because you’ll keep bending me until I snap. And then you’ll walk over my shattered pieces. But I have people I’d gladly bend over backwards for, because they’re willing to bend for me too. Maybe you should learn to be more flexible, Hawkmoth.”

With that, he slammed the door shut behind him, and took off running.

—

He should have transformed.

Plagg was in his ear telling him to. It was safer. It was faster. But Adrien couldn’t muster up the nerve to do so. He felt like he was being watched. Like Gabriel had the city in the palm of his hand, waiting to strike.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t swallow, all he could do was run.

Finally, the bakery was in sight, and he didn’t stop until he collided with the door. He pounded with his fist, and rang the bell, his knees threatening to buckle.

Finally, the hall light went on, and he could see a clock on the wall.

Midnight.

Marinette, Alya, and Nino all hurried down the stairs.

The door opened slightly, Marinette’s face poking out, and then all the way when she realized who was there. “Adrien!”

“Dude, you’re soaked! What happened?”

At the sight of his lady, Adrien broke down. He threw his arms around her and just started weeping. He clawed at her skin and buried his face in her shoulder as he wailed. He was soaking her with rainwater, tears, and snot, but he couldn’t find the energy to stop.

“Dude!”

“Marinette! Look out!” Alya’s cry pierced him in the heart before a chill over took him.

He could hear his father’s voice in his head. “Adrien…”

“No!” Adrien shouted, pulling away from Marinette and keeping her at arms length. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! You ruined my life! I hate you! I hate you so goddamn much! Why won’t you just leave me alone!?”

The chill disappeared, and he was himself again.

Marinette’s warm hands laid against his damp skin, and caressed his cheeks. “Hey...look at me Adrien.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, sparkling like stars. She was smiling her heartbreaking smile at him. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“You got me…” He whispered, choking.

Then he hugged her again, sobbing as the day’s frustrations rolled off of him one by one.

Nino wrapped an arm around him and brought him fully into the bakery, while Alya closed and locked the door.

He pulled away, rubbing his eyes. “I’m so sorry...you guys were probably having so much fun—“

“Shh.” Marinette combed his bangs away from his face. “You ruined nothing. We are ecstatic that you’re here.”

“We were so bummed when you said you couldn’t make it.” Added Nino, hand still on his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

Marinette took his hand gently. “Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes. Have you eaten?”

His stomach growled. “I’m starving.”

“Great!” Chirped Alya, “cause we made too much pizza! Mister ‘I can eat a whole pie myself’ over here only ate two slices!”

“But they were the biggest slices!” Nino protested.

Adrien laughed. Feeling better already.

In the apartment, Alya shoo’ed them upstairs. “Go on,” she urged. “We’ll keep the pizza warm.”

Marinette blushed but took him up to her room anyways.

She closed the trap door behind her, thankfully.

“I’ve got just the thing for you.” She announced, going to the chest next to her chaise. “I was going to give you these for Christmas, but I have another gift idea in mind anyways.” She dug around, and then pulled out a pair of pajamas.

A red shirt that said ‘Bug Out!” in black ink. Then a pair of extremely soft pants, that were black with red polka dots on them. “Here, I made them myself. I even designed the logo and screen printed it. Nino let it slip that you have a thing for Ladybug...do you like them?”

He gathered them into his hands, reveling in the softness of the fabric.

His lady made these, just for him!

He started sobbing again.

“Oh Adrien...”

“I-I-I’m sorry!” He croaked. “I love them! I’m so happy you made these for me! I love you so much!”

Out of all the things he needed to tell her, that wasn’t supposed to be the first.

Oh well.

She stared at him with impossibly wide eyes. “You...you love me?”

She began to smile, before it faded into something akin to disappointment. She tried to hide it, but he was too familiar with fake smiles.

He wiped his eyes and took a breath. “That’s not what I meant to say. Not that I don’t love you! I do! I mean! You’re great! And…I’m sorry…I’m…I’m a mess.”

Marinette just wiped his face with her thumb. “It’s okay…something obviously happened tonight. We’ll talk about it, when you’re ready.” Then she glanced over to the duffle he brought with him. “That looks like more than an overnight bag.”

“Yeah...I might...I might need a place to stay for a while...” he hiccuped.

With a soft smile, she steered him to the changing screen on the other side of the room.

“We have a guest room,” she offered. “Maman and papa are gone this weekend, but I’m sure they’d love to have you. If you’d like to stay here. Unless the Lahiffe’s don’t mind if you stay on their couch.”

“Wherever I am the least a burden.” He came out from behind the screen, looking smaller than Marinette had ever seen him. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, or intrude.”

“You will be welcome here.” Marinette assured, taking his hand. “I promise.”

Tears started to fall again, and Marinette was quick to catch him. She pulled him into a hug, holding onto him tightly.

“I’m so scared, Marinette. I don’t know what to do.”

She squeezed him, attempting to crush the sadness in her friend. “Well, let’s get you something to eat. Sometimes, being hungry makes things seem worse than they are.”

“Okay…” Adrien doubted that was the case in this scenario, but he was very hungry.

Together, they travelled down to the kitchen, only to find Alya and Nino both asleep, each side of the ‘L’ shaped couch taken.

Marinette hummed. “Well, that’s fine. Let’s get you some food, and then we can sit in my room and talk. ‘Kay?”  

Adrien nodded. Not that he didn’t love Alya and Nino, but he and Marinette had to talk. He couldn’t push this aside for now.

She got him a plate, with two slices of margarita pizza, some chips, a soda, and a handful of chouquettes.

The meal looked amazing, because it was everything he wasn’t allowed to eat.

When they retreated and the trap door shut, Alya and Nino peeked at each other and high fived.

In Marinette’s room, she urged him up towards the bed. “It’s more cozy up here,” she explained, a blush staining her cheeks.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He scampered up the ladder and made himself comfortable, while she did the same.

While he ate, they made small talk. Marinette telling him all about what they did so far.

“No pillow fights?”

“We don’t really do pillow fights. That’s more of...an American thing? I think? Mostly just movies.”

He pouted, before polishing off his last chouquette. “That’s disappointing.”

“Well, then you know you didn’t miss it. Alya did paint my toe nails though.” She showed off her sparkling green toes. Her big toes had little black paw prints on them.

“Oh my god!” He sobbed, and started crying again.

“Adrien?”

“It’s so—so—cute! I can’t stand it!” He wiped his eyes. “I’m getting really tired of bursting into tears over everything. I’m sorry. My emotions are shot.”

“It’s okay,” she assured softly. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

He set his empty plate on the little shelf by her bed, and then reclined to get more comfortable. He took a little pillow and hugged it to his chest. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. Each is equally important. I just…don’t know what order to tell you them. I don’t want you to get mad.”

Marinette touched his head ever so gently, petting his hair. “I won’t get mad.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. I’m here for you Adrien. Whatever you need.”

He clutched the pillow a little tighter, gathering his courage. “I…I know you’re Ladybug.”

He was expecting an explosion. A complete freak out.

But what he got instead, was a soft exhale and, “I know.”

“Wait, what?”

“Tikki told me. She said you saw me this morning detransform. You were in the stall I ran into…and I totally didn’t notice.”

Adrien buried his face in the pillow. “I didn’t know how to tell you! I was going to! But—“

“It was embarrassing, I know.” She laughed a little. “I guess that’s what I get for panicking and running into the wrong bathroom.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Marinette. You’re perfect.”

Her voice became a little deeper, a little softer. “I’m really not.”

That grabbed his attention, and he looked up to her. “…do…you…have a crush on me?”

She sighed again, her face red and her lips pulled into a wobbly smile. “You found out about that, too?”

“I’m told Nino is a dead man if he told me, but he heavily hinted at it.”

She shook her head. “Why? Why would he tell you that?”

“Because I told him that I was in love with you.”

The disappointed look came back to her face, and she looked away. “No, you aren’t.”

“But I am!” He sat up quickly, kneeling in front of her. “I swear I am!”

“Adrien…” She took his hands, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. “You love Ladybug. And…while I am her…you never showed that kind of interest in Marinette. You only think you’re in love with me now, because you know.”

He shook his head, frantically. “No, no that’s not it at all!” He pulled her forward into him, hugging her again. “Please let me prove it to you, Mari. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left.”

Concerned, and so full of love, Marinette hugged him back. He was shaking in her arms, and holding her so tightly, like he was afraid she’d disappear.

Gently, she pulled away just enough to look at him. “Okay, I believe you.” She assured, even though she wasn’t completely convinced.

He managed a weak smile, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” The joy and sunshine that seemed to live inside of him was completely snuffed out. “If you really love me, and found out I had a crush on you...you wouldn’t be upset like this.”

“No, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. The luckiest, actually. So…I only had bad luck the rest of the day.”

She thought back to what she had seen that day. Him limping around, his failed test, his ‘dump king’ status…all of it seemed to pile up.

With a thoughtful frown, she pulled him back with her against the pillows, so that he could rest his head on her chest and she could pet his hair.

“Okay. I’m not going to talk. Pretend I’m not Marinette or Ladybug. Pretend I’m not even here. Just tell me everything.”

He relaxed against her, snuggling into her hold.  

“It started this morning. I grabbed the first stall, which I knew didn’t latch properly, but I forgot until I sat down. I couldn’t close the door, so you didn’t notice that I was in there. But you ran in, dropped your transformation, and then left. It was only a couple seconds, but I recognized you immediately. I…I was elated. Ladybug, one of my best friends! The love of my life was right there!”

He hid his face, so he couldn’t see her reaction.

“I was so happy about it, even though it was super embarrassing, and then Plagg had to go and ruin it by mentioning that it was likely that all of my good luck was used up for the day.”

Marinette stopped petting him, but she didn’t move away.

From his place on her chest, he could hear her heart rate increase. He swallowed, waiting for her reaction.

She just exhaled slowly, shakily, and said, “Continue.”

Letting out his own shaky breath, he proceeded to recap the day. Starting with breaking his toe, and being humiliated in front of the class, then going into the threat from Lila and being suspended from work.

Then he grew tense. This stopped being a therapy session, and now it was a business meeting.

He sat up, straddling her legs. He wanted to hold her hands, but he didn’t dare touch her. Just met her gaze, so she could see how serious he was.

“I woke up not long before I came here, and went downstairs to get some dinner. But…I saw my father and Nathalie talking…and…”

The moment came back to him, the horror of what he had learned, the very idea that his whole life had changed. Things wouldn’t be okay for a long time. His eyes started to water again.

But Marinette just sat there patiently, listening with an easy smile on her face.

“I saw…they had…my father was saying…that he wanted to akumatize me. And both Nathalie and him had kwamis. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop myself. I confronted him.”

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing his arms. “My father is Hawkmoth. And…Nathalie is Mayura.” He sniffed. “He tried to recruit me, and he showed me why he was doing this. My…my mother…she’s still alive. She’s in a coma, in the basement. He thinks if he can get both of the Miraculous, he can use the power to wake her up—“ He choked and covered his mouth with his hand.

Marinette watch him, as his eyes grew wide and he began to spiral into self doubt.

“Then what happened?” She urged, trying to get it all out now before he completely shut down.

“I told him I…I didn’t feel safe being there. So I packed a bag, and threatened not to visit him in prison if he didn’t let me go.” He swallowed. “And then I ran here. Because…I knew it was safe. You were safe.”

“You didn’t transform?”

“I was too afraid to. I assumed he sent an akuma after me, to see where I went…and I was right. I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, and reached out for him again.

“You’re being awfully calm about this.” He noted.

“One of us has to be.” She eased him to lay on her again, resuming her petting. “I freaked out enough today as it is.”

“Because I saw you?”

“Yeah. And because I walked in on you in the bathroom. Talk about embarrassing.”

“I think I out-embarrassed you today,” he said with a weak smile.

“It’s okay, kitty.”

He hummed and began to purr.

Suddenly, she shoved him off of her with a little scream.

“My Lady?!”

“You really are him! You are Chat Noir!”

“I mean—yeah? Did—did I not mention that?”  

“Not explicitly! You just brought up Plagg a few times and the pigeon thing, but I was trying to separate myself from the situation to stay calm, but the second you purred it was like…it finally clicked! You’re Chat!”

He hunched his shoulders. “Is…is that a bad thing?”

“No! No no minou not at all! I’m so happy! I’m just—shocked!”  

“Then why did you look so disappointed when I said I loved you?”

She blushed. “Because it’s like I said…I thought you only loved me because I was Ladybug. And Adrien didn’t really know Ladybug. They had only met a few times, but Marinette…I was always there. But knowing that you’re Chat softens the blow, I guess. Because I know Chat really does love me.”

“Let’s stop talking like we’re different people.” Adrien said softly. “I love you, Mari. Both parts of you. Yes, I fell in love with Ladybug first, but Marinette was always important to me. Finding out that you were the same person was just this moment of ‘oh duh’. Ladybug can’t be anyone but you, My Lady.”  

“Adrien…”

“Even before I knew, I called you our everyday Ladybug, right?”

She gave him a shy smile. “Alright, I guess you’ve convinced me.”

“Good.” He tackled her back to the mattress, trapping her in his arms. “Because I’m going to start crying again any minute now, and I need you to pet me again.”

“Oh kitty cat…” She softened at his tone and got to work running her fingers through his damp hair.

“Marinette,” He purred, settling on her collar bone. “I’m so glad I found you. I didn’t know what to do and I—“ he choked.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re partners, right? We always have each other’s backs?”

He nodded.

“Then tonight, don’t worry about your dad, or any of that other crap that happened. Let’s just…enjoy each other.”

He melted. His purr growing with each stroke, his heart began to settle and the ache startled to subside. “I love you.”

She didn’t respond immediately, pausing her pets. Then she licked her lips and confessed, “You were the other guy.”

Adrien pushed up on his arms, looking down to her. “What?”

She flushed. “The reason I kept pushing away Chat Noir…was because I was desperately in love with Adrien.”

He blinked. “Desperately?”

“Desperately.” She whispered.

They were already so close. Their noses almost touching.

She could smell his cologne. The spicy scent surrounded her, sending goosebumps over her arms.

“And…does that change now? Now that you know…” his voice deepened, as his nose brushed against hers. “This handsome model…is also your silly kitty?”

Her voice was just a whisper. “It makes things easier.”

“Yeah?”

“It means…I can love, and I don’t have to pick between the two most important boys in my life.”

“Mari…”

She could feel the heat from his lips, so tantalizingly close. She raised her hands, one cupping his cheek, the other playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “Are you going to kiss me?”

He smiled, a huff of air fanning on her lip. “I’m just savoring the moment, My Lady. I know this is nearly routine for you. But this will be my first kiss that I remember.”

She smiled back. “I’ll be sure to make it memorable.”  

“Every moment with you is worth remembering.”

He crashed his lips onto hers, snaking his arms around her to hold her.

Desperate is what she said, and that’s what this kiss was. Giving so much, and receiving more in return. Short kisses that started again before they ended, peppered with little smacks and moans. Tongues that, nervously at first, darted out to tease. Then slowly, long, languid dances and tug-o-wars. Adrien inhaled her, savoring her scent, her taste, her silky smooth feel. His hand rode up her shirt, and he moaned at the flawless skin of her back.

Her hand skirted up his neck and into his hair, her nails scrapping against his scalp.

His purr came back, vibrating between them like a shared heart.

Almost effortlessly, he rolled, flipping them over so she was on top. It didn’t even break the kiss.

Marinette broke away with a squeak when his hand went down and grabbed her butt.

“I’m sorry!” He blushed, still so close. “I…I had just been thinking about that adorable butt of yours all day and…sorry, I sound like a total pervert.”

She shook her head, before pecking him gently. “Nah, I think your butt is pretty cute too.”

“You check out my butt?”

“Honey, in that leather, it’s hard not to.”

He barked a laugh that almost startled her. “You’re too cute.”

“I’m not the one with the full page magazine spreads.”

“I’m pretty sure Ladybug was on the cover of Time Magazine.”

“And Chat Noir was on the cover of Vogue.”

“Leather’s in, baby.”  

She kissed him again to shut him up. When she pulled away, he was just smiling softly at her.

“I never want to stop kissing you.” He admitted. “That was awesome.”

“You can kiss me anytime you want. You just have to do one thing.”

“Anything.” He breathed, earnestly.

“Let me be your girlfriend.”

“Psh, I’d let you be my wife this second if I could. But I guess I’ll settle for girlfriend.”

She kissed his nose. “Seems like your luck finally turned around.”

“The luckiest I’ve ever been.” He beamed, then he froze in horror. “Shit!”

“What?”

“I used up all my good luck in one go again!”

“Thats okay. You’ll just have to borrow mine.”

Aw, who needed luck anyway?

Another Time After That | V2 Drabble

Genre | Smut, V2 Taehyung x Reader

Word Count | 5.4K

Warnings | Language, detailed smut, oral, dirty talk, abuse of library property (yikes!), Taehyung and Y/N living out my dreams, etc.

A/N | Hi, this is completely self-indulgent ridiculousness from my wine-drunk brain. I pumped the second half of this out in like two hours and didn’t edit much, so I hope you enjoy! <3

Read the rest of The V2 Series HERE! 

You pull into the parking lot of the Belmont Public Library, taking the convenient parking lot near the back for employees and sidling your own vehicle right into a space next to Taehyung’s black Honda.

 He sits in it with the windows down, reclined in his seat in an absurdly low position. The only way you know he isn’t asleep on his break is the long stream of smoke that escapes from his window, courtesy of the cigarillo tucked neatly between his index and middle fingers. 

The sun sets behind the library, just barely dipping below the horizon but throwing a myriad of warm, snooze-inducing colors on Taehyung’s windshield. When you round the car and stand beside his door, he opens his eyes slowly from his relaxed state, giving you a lazy grin. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’re here already?”

You look down at your phone, the screen momentarily lit. “You told me to be here by 6:30.”

Taehyung’s eyes open a little wider. “I’ve been out here for that long?” He flicks some ash off his cigar, pulling a lever below his seat so that he’s anchored back up in a sitting position. “Shit, I’ve got to finish the returns.”

You hold up the bag in your left hand, dangling it outside the window with a grin. “Well, I brought us food.”

Taehyung groans, rolling his window up and stepping out of the car. “And that’s why you’re my favorite person in the whole world,” he says, giving you a wink. “Let’s go.”

The inside of a public library after closing might just be the quietest place you’ve ever visited. Although a calming, studious atmosphere fills the spaces between the shelves in the daytime, at night it’s a sort of hollowed emptiness that resides there now, and you try to fight the chill that threatens to crawl up your neck. 

“You don’t get weirded out being in this place alone at night?” you ask, trailing behind Taehyung as he leads you back to the receptionist's desk. 

“No,” he says with a laugh. “Why? You scared?”

You scoff, but your inner feelings betray you almost immediately when you jump a little at the loud slam the swinging half door makes behind you as you walk into Taehyung’s work space. 

Taehyung chuckles a little at you, shaking his head as he drags another rolling chair up beside his own. You place the food bag down on the desk, not bothering to separate it’s contents into two different piles because Taehyung is probably going to ask for some of yours, anyways. 

“Chopsticks?” he asks, and you hand him a pair. He pops open the first container of Chinese, bringing some lo mein into his mouth with audible slurps. “Mmm, god,” he murmurs through stuffed cheeks. “Fuck, this is good.”

“Long day?” you ask, smiling. You open the other container of sesame chicken, chewing a piece quietly while you watch Taehyung eat with vigor. 

“No lunch,” Taehyung grumbles. “I didn’t have time. What’d you do today?”

“It was my day off so I just caught up on laundry and my shows,” you say. 

“Can I have some of that?” he asks, pointing at your container with his chopsticks. “Let’s trade.”

You hand it to him. “Do you skip lunch often?”

Taehyung looks up from his food, noticing the worry lines starting to form on your forehead. “I mean—no, and yes. It depends on what’s going on, but sometimes there’s just too much to do. But I’ll make up for it by going home an hour early or something.”

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” you chide, frowning. “Start calling me, Taehyung. If I’m free, I’ll bring you something to eat.”

He nods only to sate you, but you know he won't actually call unless he really, really needs to. Taehyung always thought he was bothering you, which was ridiculous. Today, he'd only suggested you give him company while he worked after closing—it was you who'd said something about food, which Taehyung eagerly obliged to.

"So what's on the agenda tonight?" you ask, watching as Taehyung leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk as he continues to much happily on his dinner.

He looks incredibly good in his work clothes—his black slacks slim-fitted on his legs and his blue button down rolled up at the elbows, showing off his toned forearms. You trace muscle down to his hands, his fingers gripping the chopsticks easily, the silver ring that rests around his right thumb.

You watch as he brings another mouthful of food to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the sauce off his plump bottom lip. You're so focused on the sensual movements of his mouth you miss the words coming out of them, and you shake your head a little.

"Sorry, what?" you ask with a smile. "I zoned out for a second."

"Yeah, I see that," Taehyung says. He raises an eyebrow at your dazed expression. "There something on my face? I was trying not to get anything on my shirt, but it's kind of hard."

You clear your throat. "Nope, you're good," you say. "Did you say you're shelving?"

"A fancy word for putting books back on the shelf, yes," Taehyung responds. "It can be fun, though. Sometimes people check out some really funny stuff."

You turn around in your seat, looking at the cart Taehyung points to over your shoulder.

"All of those?" you ask incredulously. "And you do this by yourself at night?"

"Whoever closes does." Taehyung shrugs. "I promise it's not as bad as you think!"

“Whatever you say.”

It’s quiet for a few beats. 

“So,” Taehyung says, scraping the bottom of the carton, carefully avoiding your eyes as he picks his next topic of conversation. “What’s Hongbin up to tonight that lets you be with me?”

You shrug nonchalantly, suddenly finding the cuticles on your right hand extremely interesting. “Oh, you know. Stuff.”

“Stuff?” Taehyung repeats, trying to keep the smile out of his voice. “Can you be any more vague?”

You sigh, finally looking him in the eyes. “I honestly don’t know, Taehyung,” you say simply. “I guess he’s working over, or whatever.”

Or whatever was more like it, if you were being honest. You hadn’t heard from Hongbin since that morning, and you were too stubborn to reach out because it made you look weak to constantly be bothering him. If he was working, what did you look like whining about him being gone a little longer than usual?

Taehyung’s eyes narrow just a fraction, and he shakes his chopsticks at your telling expression. “He didn’t even let you know? How shitty,” he tuts. “He’s probably off at some fucking bar grabbing a beer with his coworkers, like last time. I don’t get why he wouldn’t want you there, Y/N—”

You cut him off before he can say any more. “Yeah, well I wouldn’t want to be there anyways,” you say. “I’m happy right here, with you.”

Taehyung’s expression softens, and he quirks a playful eyebrow your way. “Oh yeah?” he says. “Well at least we agree on that, I guess.”

You give him a half-hearted grin, glad momentarily that he isn’t going to press you on the subject. If there was one thing you avoided talking about to Taehyung—which was rare, because here lately, you told him everything, right down to the petty drama with your friends—it was the status of you and Hongbin’s relationship. It just didn’t feel right to talk about it with him.   

Taehyung suddenly  leans up from his reclined position, tossing the now-empty carton of sesame chicken in the trash. He realizes what he's done as it hits the bottom with a thunk, and he looks up at you sheepishly under his light curtain of hair.

"I hope you didn't want any of that..."

You sigh, shaking your head and handing him the rest of the lo mein noodles in the bottom of your container. Taehyung grins at you, taking it happily out of your hand and finishing the food off with long drawls of his mouth.

You don't want to, but you catch yourself staring at him again—watching that sinful tongue sneak out to lick at his pretty, glistening lips, and you reach down to secretively pinch the skin of your thigh for being this way. Why were you sexualizing Taehyung eating, of all things? Although the chemistry between you and Hongbin hadn't been great lately, were you really going to get turned on watching Taehyung lick sauce off of his lips?

Yes, you think to yourself. Because you knew plenty of other things that tongue, those hands, those fingers, were capable of. The thought alone is enough to make your stomach stir with excitement, and you cross your legs tightly, struggling to focus on anything other than the parts of Taehyung’s body that turn you on. 

It’s a little while later, when you’re trailing behind Taehyung between bookshelves as he does returns, that he suggests a game to pass the rest of the time quickly. 

“The rest of the cart is just young adult fiction,” he says, turning a corner. “Before we put a book back on the shelf, let’s see if we can flip it open and stop on a page that has something sexual going on in it.”

You give him a pointed look. 

“What?” he says, chuckling. “That’s all these books are about.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “What? That’s crazy. YA is really like that?”

“Oh, definitely,” Taehyung says with confidence. “All the young girls check out those vampire books because it fills some weird desire deep within them—sex with humans is so out, Y/N.” He says the last part in his best posh, teenage girl voice, sending you into a fit of giggles. 

He pushes the cart to a stop in the middle of an aisle. “You gonna play with me, or what?” he says, looking over his shoulder at where you stand behind him. 

You try not to focus too hard on the lilt of double intention in his voice, and nod your head unsurely. “I guess so,” you say. “Just pick a random one?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’. 

He gestures to the array of books left on the cart as if offering you endless possibility—and with Taehyung, most of the time that’s exactly what it felt like. You grin and let your hand drift over their spines, loving the grin that spreads across Taehyung’s face when you pick one. 

You know it’s a dumb game to play with him when you two are alone, but with his eyes sparkling with mischeif when you catch his gaze, paired with the playful wink he gives you as you flip through pages, how are you supposed to say no?

You choice is a small, square novel titled Dead Is So Last Year and you open it directly in the middle. 

“Doppelgangers love to create chaos and we cannot let that happen!” you read, closing the book shut and placing it on its proper shelf. “Nothing sexy about that. Your turn.”

Taehyung looks disappointed, but eyes the cart warily before he makes his choice: The Vincent Boys by Abby Glines. 

“Ooo, this looks spicy,” he comments, showing you the cover of a man with a plaid, button-down completely open so that his bare chest peaks through. “Let’s see what I can find.”

You lean on the cart, trying not to smile at the concentration and focus Taehyung is putting into a game as silly as this. A few moments later, he clears his throat dramatically. 

“We were standing right outside the church where anyone could walk out and catch us, but all I could think about was pressing my lips against his. Beau was becoming a necessity, and nothing about such a revelation could be considered positive,” Taehyung reads. When he is finished, his gives you a look over the top of the book in his hands, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’d say that’s one point for me.”

You roll your eyes, but quickly make your next choice, determined to find one now that Taehyung had made it look so easy. 

“Perfect Chemistry,” you say, showing Taehyung the cover of a young couple embracing each other. “This looks good.”

Taehyung waits patiently, inching closer to you as your voice drops a little in embarrassment for reading the scene you have stumbled upon aloud. 

“A satisfied sigh escapes Brittany’s mouth, as if she’s content to stay in my arms forever. I brush the tip of my tongue against her lips, enticing her to open her mouth. She tentatively meets my tongue with her own—” You stop, pushing the book into Taehyung’s hands to put away. “God, this is so weird to read out loud! But that’s a point for me.”

Taehyung grins at you, nodding approvingly. “That was kind of hot—you ever thought about being an audio book reader?”

You roll your eyes again, but the way Taehyung is looking at you makes you want to read more. His eyes have darkened a fraction, his lids sitting a little heavier as he takes you in. You turn your gaze to the cart, trying to ignore the heat licking at your skin where his eyes graze. “Your turn,” you murmur. 

Taehyung picks up his next book, a thicker one titled Easy. 

“How about we switch it up?” he asks, a devilish grin threatening to break across his face. “I read a little heated scene in this until you start blushing.”

“Do you really think I’m that much of a child, Taehyung?” you ask, crossing your arms. “That I would get flustered over a teenage love story?”

“I think you will when I read it,” he says, voice lowering a little. His mouth quirks at the edge as he adds on, “I read a little differently than you do.”

You tilt your head, playing along. “Because you’re a librarian?”

“Because I’m not afraid of the story,” he says pointedly. “You’ll see,” he adds. “Let me just find a good spot.” He flips pages for a moment until his eyes light up. “Okay, here we go.”

Taehyung steps a fraction closer to you again, his voice a murmur as he reads low voice: “His breath in my ear, he ran his tongue along the curved edge—”

Your breath hitches a little in your throat when in one fluid movement, Taehyung has brought his hand up to your face, fingertips brushing your ear lobe in a soft movement that has your entire spine tingling.

“—my eyes drifted closed while I babbled a weak sound of longing. Nuzzling my neck—” Taehyung’s hands drop to your clavicle, where he rubs a fingertip along the prolonged edge of your collarbone. You curse yourself for wearing a thin blouse, eyes closing as the heat of his hand sparks a trail of warmth along your chest. 

“Say stop whenever you want to stop. Understand?” 

 You open your eyes a little, confused as to whether or not he is talking to you or still reading. His eyes capture yours for a brief moment before he looks down at the page again, continuing. 

Taehyung’s hand flits from your collarbones, fingertips trailing along the line of your jaw until he’s caressing your face and rubbing a thumb over your lips slowly. 

You don’t take your eyes off of his face, trying embarrassingly hard to control your heightened breathing. Your lips part involuntarily as Taehyung touches them, and it’s only then that you feel the hard wood of the bookshelf behind you pressing into your spine, realizing Taehyung has you pinned and exactly where he wants you. 

“I stroked his tongue with mine, sucking it deep into my mouth, and he groaned—” he pauses long enough to push his thumb past the seal of your lips, looking with hooded eyes as you pull the digit into your mouth, letting your tongue wrap around it. The cold metal of his thumb ring brushes against your chin and you welcome it’s chill; the game was more than over now. You were sure it wasn’t just your cheeks that were flushed; your entire body felt hot and weak under Taehyung’s influence.  

Taehyung stutters a little on his next sentence when you give a particularly hard suck, and the sight of his eyes fluttering sends a wave of desire straight to your core. 

“I pushed him onto his back and straddled him, feeling him hard and ready through our two pairs of jeans—”

You knock the book out of Taehyung’s hands, finally, tired of the games. It hits the floor with a slap, landing right on the front cover, and you know Taehyung is completely preoccupied because he doesn’t bother to scold you for treating it so carelessly. 

Taehyung removes his thumb from your mouth—now glistening from your saliva—and you are panting, aware that he looks more than a little flustered as he gazes back at you. 

“Touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

Taehyung brings both hands up to hold your face as he smashes his lips onto yours, pressing you hard against the bookshelf behind you. His body molds against yours but you try to bring him closer anyways, wrapping your hands around his neck while tilting your head and opening your mouth to deepen the kiss. It’s fevered and needy, tongues and teeth clashing a little from the force of desire flowing through both of you--you can tell from Taehyung’s frantic movements that you are not the only one to be heavily affected by his little reading game. 

That, and because when he presses a little harder against your body, you feel the faint trace of his hardened cock in his pants sitting nicely against your stomach. 

You whimper with satisfaction when Taehyung’s hands leave your face, sliding down your ribcage, fingertips dancing along the curves of your waist. He pulls your shirt up to press warm palms against your sides, hands massaging the skin there in time with the languid laps of his tongue against yours. 

When he pulls back a few heated moments later, his eyes are heavy with desire, lids fluttering over the dark, obsidian irises that hold your own. His chest rises and falls with his pant-like breathing, and his lips—god, his lips—are moist and pretty and so close to your line of sight you can’t think about anything else. 

“Should we get back to the game?” he asks, smirking. 

“Fuck the game,” you respond, leaning in to connect your lips again, only for Taehyung to pull his head back. 

You narrow your eyes at him but he grins lazily, hands still rubbing patterns into your flesh underneath your t-shirt.He lets his thumb graze the jut of your hip bone and you jump a little at the ticklish sensation. 

“Tease,” you murmur at him. 

“I’m the tease?” Taehyung asks, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You seduced me in my workplace, knowing very well that I can’t have you like I want you here.”

The intent in his words makes your stomach flip-flop, but you decide to go along with his games along for a little longer. You know he loves to bait you until you can’t take it anymore, but sometimes, he liked to be on the receiving end of that baiting, as well. 

You decide to test the waters to see how he’s feeling tonight. 

“Come on, Taehyung,” you coax in a hushed voice. “Instead of the game, can’t we just play together?” you ask, bringing one hand from the back of his neck to caress the side of his face. “Doesn’t that sound better?”

You lean in again and Taehyung attempts to jerk away playfully for a second time, but your hold on his face stops him from completely moving out of your reach. You bring him back close, skimming your nose along his jaw as you speak. 

“Right?” you ask, giving a protruding vein on his neck a kitten-like lick. “No one is here so we can play, right?”

“Y/N,” he warns in a low tone,  but it comes out sounding more breathless than scolding. 

You smile in victory against his skin—you have him right where you want him. You lean up on your tiptoes, kissing a wet spot onto Taehyung’s neck with slow laps of your mouth, loving the way his grip tightens your waist and his breath hitches quietly.

After a few moments, Taehyung groans in his throat and his hands slide to the front of your body, knuckles brushing right under your bellybutton as he fiddles with the button to your pants. The thought that you two are about to fool around in the place where he has to work every day only excites you, and you continue your ministrations with more enthusiasm. 

You suck harder on his neck, grazing your teeth against the spot to encourage him to keep going. Your panties have been sticking to you since you two started, and you almost gasp with relief at the first press of Taehyung’s fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Your head kicks back and you release a sigh, finally allowing Taehyung control of the situation—which he absolutely loves more than anything else. 

“This what you wanted?” he murmurs, making slow circles against your clit. “God, you feel so fucking wet for me already.”

“Please,” you mewl. “Taehyung, I—”

Your words get lost in your throat at an expert twist of his wrist, and Taehyung presses his lips hard against yours to drown out any oncoming noises as he slides a digit down, dipping a finger into your core. “Fuck,” he murmurs, playing in your wetness for a moment. 

 You are weakly pressed against the bookshelf, only still able to stand up straight because of the firm arm Taehyung has wrapped around your waist while his other hand works magic on your most sensitive bits. 

“Ah, Tae—” you gasp out when his fingers finally find purchase, sliding into your slickness with ease and pumping slowly. 

“Mm, god it’s so tight,” he murmurs, mouthing away from your lips to suck on the soft skin underneath your ear. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.”

The dirty talk only excites you further, core clenching around his fingers. Your hands dig into his shoulders and you hitch one leg onto his hip, allowing him better access to go deeper. When he does you cry out in pleasure, sparks shooting behind your closed eyes as Taehyung hits that perfect spot within you with each curl of his long, beautiful fingers. 

“Don’t stop,” you pant, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. “Taehyung—”

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs darkly against your ear. He rocks his hips against yours, struggling to sate his own feelings with any touch that your body can give him. You’ve always admired Taehyung’s ability to put his needs second to yours. It’s a gift you’ve never understood but immensely appreciated—especially in times such as the present where you’re quite literally begging to cum and can’t think of anything other than that impending snap of the tightening in your stomach. 

“Tae, ah—right there, please—” you beg, ignoring how shameless you sound. “Please, please, please—”

Taehyung groans at your neediness, quickening the movement of his fingers in and out of you. The sound of your slickness is muted by the amount of clothes you have on, but turns your on anyways. “You sound so when pretty when you’re begging to cum,” he growls in your ear. 

It’s a compliment and an encouragement all at once. A wanton moan tears from your throat as Taehyung rubs the last bit of self control out of you, your body slumping against his as you cum, clenching rapidly around his two digits still pumping in and out of you. 

As his fingers slow, Taehyung’s mouth captures yours in a triumphant kiss, his upturned lips apparent against yours as he presses small pecks against your tired mouth. He waits until you can stand upright by yourself before he removes his hand from the recesses of your pants, looking at the slickness coating his ring and middle fingers and smirking a little at you. 

You waste no time, bypassing buttoning your pants back and dropping to your knees, fingers fumbling at the belt holding up Taehyung’s slacks. 

“Y/N,” he mumbles with bated breath, “You don’t have to—”

“Shhh,” you say, placing a small kiss on the spot right above where his briefs hit on his hips. “I want to.”

 You pull Taehyung’s underwear down just a fraction, enough to let his cock spring free and you run your tongue over the tip eagerly, gathering up the taste of his leaking precum in your mouth. 

Taehyung threads his fingers through your hair, bringing your warmth a further over his dick as he moves his hips in time with the dips of your head. He does so in a slow and controlled manner in order to not choke you. Again, you appreciate his precaution but you go deeper to sate him, loving the way he grunts a little when your nose gets close to the trimmed bit of hair that sits on his pelvic bone.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says, breathing heavy, “You’re so good at this, baby.”

You keep your mouth around him, opening your eyes a little to look up at Taehyung, who meets your gaze with half-lidded eyes. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, and he chews on the soft skin a little in order not to let the full extent of his pleasure bubble over his reddened lips.

He looks so hot like this: standing in the middle of a library, head thrown back in pleasure so that you can see the extensive tan skin covering his throat and his chest, which peaks from between the top buttons on his shirt, little grunts escaping his lips as you bring him closer to his much-awaited end. 

You move your hands to his ass, knowing that Taehyung won’t care from the fucked-out expression you just witnessed in his eyes, and grip the flesh there tightly, aiding him in the snap of his hips up into your mouth. 

Just as you feel his rhythm getting sloppy, feel his muscles tightening at he focuses on cumming, you hear a voice come from somewhere on the other side of the library. 

“Taehyung?” a woman calls. “Hey, Tae, are you still here?”

You freeze and so does Taehyung, and when you look up at him, he has a finger pressed closely to his lips as a warning. 

“Yeah, Yeseul,” he calls out, and you wonder if she hears the nervous lilt to his voice. “I-I didn’t know you were coming back.”

As quietly as you can, you slide your mouth to the end of Taehyung’s cock, replacing the movements with flicks of your wrist as you twist down to the end in the way you know makes Taehyung week in the knees. On instinct, his eyes flutter closed above you as he strains to listen to Yeseul’s footsteps through his clouded brain. 

You normally wouldn’t be so brave, but you’d just felt how close Taehyung was before this girl interrupted—and now you’re determined as ever to have him fall apart above you. 

“I forgot my house keys,” she says, sounding a little closer. You wonder what aisle she’s on, if she’s searching for Taehyung’s exact location. “Have you seen them?”

“I think—” Taehyung pauses as you begin to fondle his balls, swallowing harshly. “I think they’re um—in the office, m-maybe?” 

You suck on his dick once more, letting the saliva drip from your mouth in wet streaks as you pull away, lubricating Taehyung in the best way you can before you give his impressive length another tug with your hand. The squelching noise is pretty obvious now, and you give him a devilish look beneath your lashes as you continue to pleasure him, daring him to do something about it.   

Your attempts are obviously too loud for Taehyung, though, for he suddenly places his hands on the back of your head, slipping his tip past your sealed lips so that your nose is pressed against his pelvis as punishment. He tilts his hips into your mouth, making you take the full extent of his length to the back of your throat.

You breathe shallowly from your nose, focusing on not gagging at the way he uses you so recklessly—you asked for this, technically, and your already spent core clenches around nothing at his unrelenting control of the situation. 

“Did you find them, Yeseul?” he calls out, still moving his hips in a timely manner. “That’s where I last—saw them, I think.”

“I’m looking now,” she answers back, and you’re relieved to recognize that her voice sounds a little further away. 

A tear escapes from your eye at the pressure Taehyung is putting on the back of your throat, but you relish in it, loving the way his entire body is trembling from how close you have him to falling apart. 

“Ah, Y/N. Fuck,” he murmurs brokenly, as quietly as he can, slowing the pace of his hips. “Let me just—please—”

You can’t tell if he wants you to stop or continue, but when he doesn’t push your head away, you move faster, pumping him in and out of your mouth in a sloppy manner until Taehyung is gripping your hair hard, releasing his pearly cum in streams in the back of your throat. 

You slow your movements, milking Taehyung for all he has until he slumps against the bookshelves, chest moving up and down rapidly. His upper lip is beaded with sweat, as are the edges of his hairline and when you stand, you run a hand through the fine threads, pushing them back from him handsome face. 

He looks at you with an odd sort of satisfaction, pulling you close to press a brief, silent kiss on your lips before he remembers your current situation. 

“Yeseul?” he calls out, voice sounding much stronger this time. “You still there?”

“Found them!” she chirps, following by the tinkling of keys hitting together. “Hey, you need any help? It’s getting kind of late.”

Taehyung looks over at you straightening your clothes and wiping off your mouth with the back of your shirt shamelessly. He gives you a grin and a wink that has your heart fluttering a little before he answers, “Nah, I’m all good here. Just finished, actually.”

“Okay,” she calls back. “Goodnight, Taehyung.”

You both wait for her footsteps to disappear and the sound of the glass doors sliding shut at the front of the library before either of you speak. You have to admit, you’re a little shaky from the whole interaction—you bring a trembling hand to push the hair out of your eyes—but mixed with that feeling is an unbelievable energy, adrenaline pumping through your veins at sharing such a passionate moment with Taehyung in a public place. 

Taehyung hitches his pants back around his hips, jumping in place a little before he refastens his belt. “That was—” he begins, shaking his head.

“—Hot,” you finish for him, smiling a little. “I can’t believe we just—” you trail off, feeling the heat return to your cheeks, and you look away from Taehyung for the first time all night. 

“Don’t get shy now,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and caressing your cheek with a warm palm. “Thank you for that,” he says with honestly. “But you better hope they don’t have a reason to look at the security cameras this week.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “What? Taehyung!” you exclaim. “There are cameras? You could get fired, or, or, put in jail, for fucks sake—”

Taehyung grins, winking at you again with such ease you hate him for it. “I’m just kidding, love. There’s no cameras. In this small ass library, what are people going to do—steal this copy of Easy?”

He picks the novel off the ground where you knocked it out of his hands earlier, tsking disappointedly at a corner of the cover that got bent from its fall. “You should be ashamed, Y/N,” he says. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

You smile wider, sidling up to him and shyly pecking his somewhat swollen bottom lip. “Oh, I’m sure I can think of a way or two.”

ocean eyes (2) l.h

Tag list: @calssunflower

GIF creds to owner

“When did you walk out?” My moms' voice caught my attention, we were at our local cafe. I stayed at a friends house for a few days before I realized I honestly needed my mom the most.

“What do you mean?” I ask and she gives me a look, I hadn’t told her that I was taking a break from Luke. “I walked out last Thursday.” I sigh, I had already been caught by her. “Jenna had sent me a text this morning asking how you were holding up, I had no clue what she meant so I had to connect a few dots.” She pointed at a raspberry jam filled croissant, the worker handing it to her. I pointed to the double chocolate chip muffin. We paid for our stuff and walked to some empty seats.

“I don’t think I broke up with Luke but my heart sure as hell hurts as I have. I don’t know what’s wrong with us mom. It didn’t feel the same.” I use a fork to dissect it before I eat it.

“He hasn’t hit you or anything, right?” She looks up expectingly, I shake my head quickly. “No, we just argue nonstop. I didn’t feel loved anymore.”

“That’s what sucks about relationships, you lose a part of them every time something happens. You start to love them a little less only because you never opened those pretty eyes of yours.” She says while biting into the croissant.

“It’s like we never were on the same page, he was still an ocean away while I was stuck at home. We just didn’t feel the same and I just miss the old us.” I felt tears start to sting in my eyes, my heart was beating so quickly.

“You know what I think your issue is, the both of you really?” She sips on some water and I shrug. “You two never accepted that everything is going to change and you didn’t change with each other. You’ve always been horrible and change and that’s something Luke is constantly doing.”

“Well, it’s hard to keep up with someone who wants to change all of sudden and leave me out of it.” I was mad that he did change and I couldn’t keep up.

“Love isn’t just falling in love with a guy you met when you were 19 or 20. You have to fall in love with the boy who grew his hair out and put glitter on his eyelids. The guy who wears stars and lightning rods on his boot. He’s the same boy who had a lip ring and used a lot of hair wax. You can’t attach yourself to one version of him, you have to love every stage of him. If you want to spend the rest of your life with him, you’ve got to learn to accept that.” She munched on the food and I pushed my back, my feelings were all over the place which began to make me nauseous.

“When we argued mom, I told him if he walked out of the house, we were done. He walked out on me, told me I was living like a queen. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate his money because it’s more than enough, but I have my own job. I have money to buy myself shit, but he made me feel like a gold digger, an annoying gold digger.”

“You two need a serious heart to heart, it might end in a heartache greater than anything, a breakup will hurt you deeply. You built a house and a home within him, you have to decide if it’s time to light the house on fire. You can leave it to ashes or add another room.”

“Can we go back to your house?” I ask and she nods quickly. My heart was hurting and I could’ve sworn someone stuck a knife through it.

——

“Hi babe, it’s Luke, it’s been 3 weeks, I just wanted to know if we could grab a coffee at the place down the road from our house. I’ll be there tonight at 7 if you don’t show then I’ll know it’s really over. I’m sorry and I love you.” I read the text to my mom and she gave a look of sadness.

“Are you going?” She asks, she looked down at her watch. “I don’t know,” I mumbled, running my hand through my knotted hair. “You look awful, you only have an hour to get ready if so.” She stands up and I groan. “I don’t know mom, I’m indecisive.” I rub my temples.

“You at least need closure and so does he, even if you end it tonight after you talk, at least it ended with more than just leaving him alone at a coffee shop.”

“I guess.” I roll off the bed and made my way into the shower, more tears fell once I stood under the water. I just thought, which was scarier than anything, because I’ve stopped doing that for 2 weeks now. I don’t want to feel.

—

I parked outside of the cafe 10 minutes ago, it was now 7:12. I could see Luke inside of the coffee shop, he had his head down and a cup of iced coffee beside him. A drink in front of him and I could only assume it was supposed to be mine.

I didn’t want to get out of the car. This building held so many memories for us, this was the first place we came to the day after we moved in, we had no groceries or coffee. I see myself coming here at 2 am because it’s the only place around us that’s open all night, I had run out because Luke and I fought. I didn’t like all the memories here, I can’t imagine breaking up with him here...

I got out of the car, my head hung low the whole way down the sidewalk. Just as I went to grab the handle, it hit me roughly. “Fuck!” I groan and rub my hand that was throbbing from being hit. “I’m so sorry! Fuck!” I look up to see Luke; his ocean colored eyes were droopy, darker than usual, and red. My heart sunk more into the hollowness of my chest.

“H-hi. Do you want to come inside?” He was stuttering and I could see him shake a little. “Sure.” I walked ahead and sat at a random booth, he set the coffee in front of me and I sipped it.

“I messed up, big time. This is worse than it’s ever been before.” Luke spoke quietly and I couldn’t stand to look him in the eye, I’d fall back in immediately.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you. I sat in the car for 10 minutes wondering if I could ever look at this place the same if we broke up. I just think we were two kids who fell in love too quick and I don’t think I have any left in me.” He moved his hand toward me and I moved it away.

“I’m sorry for the things I said, the more I thought about it the past three weeks, the more I realized I basically made you out to be a gold digger. I know you’re needy and clingy, you have a job you do and spend that money on, you stay home every Saturday because you need relaxation. I get it and I should’ve never made you feel bad for that. I should’ve stayed home more, let you know I would take care of you, love you so much harder than ever. I’m just not the same as you knew when we first met and I want to become a version of a guy you can love now, I don’t want to lose you this suddenly.”

I finally looked up to him, his eyes were beyond full of tears, the bloodshot red was deeper than before. I took in how his curls were so untamed and his outfit didn’t match at all.

“I have a lot of myself up for you Luke, I don’t think I can give anymore. I don’t know if I can force myself to fall into an ocean knowing damn well I can’t swim. I get that we both change all the time, my mom pointed that out to me, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to adapt at this point.”

He just stared at me for a second, his eyes were searching for any type of hope. I turned my head away to watch the lights of cars dancing past.

“I’ve already talked to the band and to the company, I’m taking time off. I want to rediscover us, I feel like we haven’t had the best time together in ages. We can travel the world, stay at home with Piggy, who by the way, misses you tons. We could do anything, but I want to get to know you. Our bodies and souls might change, but my love for you never will.”

“That’s the issue Luke, I didn’t even feel loved. I felt like a roommate.” I sigh and he grabs my hand, holding it securely. “I know I’m an ass, I’m stone cold and hard to read, but I have never ever stopped loving you. I never stopped kissing your forehead when I came home, appreciating the lamps you left on, the cooked suppers in the fridge, I loved your sleeping figure beside mine. I’m sorry I didn’t show you but god I love you so much.” He rants and I just felt like my heart hurt worse.

“I don’t want to say yes to coming home and spend this time walking on eggshells, waiting for one of us to snap. I can’t live in a trapped moment forever, I don’t want to feel this way ever again.” I wipe the tears off quickly.

“Then its a deal, we get to meet each other all over again.” He smiles warmly and his eyes were sparkly again. I must’ve stared into them too long or there was some kind of voodoo going on, but I nodded along. “Fine.”

He sticks his hand out and I tilt my head slightly. “Hi, I’m Luke Hemmings. I’m originally from Australia and I moved to Cali about 3 years ago, want me to show you back to my house?” He flirts and I shake his hand slowly.

“Only if I get to sleep on the right side of that nice bed.”

“Oh so you’ve been in my house, are you a stalker? Should I be concerned?”

“No, not anymore.” I smile at him and he caught the drift.

“Good because my house was getting lonely without the girl who can make it a home.”

CSUAVS prt 38 update. I got myself confused

Lance wasn't doing ok. Physically he was getting better, but as the infection in his chest cleared, surgery loomed around the corner. The procedure wouldn't be performed on the Atlas, but instead on New Altea. Lance didn't want to leave so many things unanswered. He didn't want to be pushed aside and disregarded, which was exactly what felt like was happening. Keith was his main line with the outside world. Shiro dropped by from time to time, sometimes Curtis was with him and sometimes he was. Hunk had come by twice but was acting distant, unable to meet his eyes despite the fact he'd nearly crushed him in a hug as he cried his eyes out over being so worried about him. Shay had shyly come to enquire about his health and wish him well. Krolia had thanked him for his service and thanked him for getting Keith back home in one piece. Even Zak had ventured up to tell him he was an "idiot", but "an idiot that had done a good job". He knew Acxa and Keith's team had come by when he'd been napping, catching the tail end of the four of them talking outside the door... So he didn't know why he felt so hollow inside. Actually. He did. His fight with Veronica. His sister angered that he'd taken such measures without thinking of their family, and without consulting her about it. He couldn't admit the truth of what happened with Klearo to her. He couldn't admit that he'd fucked up from the very beginning then was tricked by someone who he looked up to. Veronica had basically insinuated that he was a burden, who didn't know what he was doing and should have stayed on Earth. She didn't get it. She didn't get to him that being a "burden" was his greatest fear. She didn't get that his drug and alcohol abuse had steadily grown worse, or understand the way he wrecked their family with his mere presence. Keith tried his hardest to help him through his moods and panic attacks, but he felt like he was shackling Keith down with his depression. Keith who still treated him like he was the most treasured person in existence. Keith who said they'd work things out... then left things in the air. It wasn't like he wanted to talk to the ship's councillor... but when they didn't come by his room, he had to wonder if Keith wasn't secretly enjoying him being so messed. The disgusting thought left him unable to look his boyfriend's way for vargas, ultimately serving to hurt Keith when he hadn't done anything wrong. Which he wasn't. Shiro's actions had told him that. No. It wasn't fair to blame Shiro. Keith had desperately needed the healing pod, and Lance couldn't be more relieved that his boyfriend had been healed. He just... felt... insignificant. No matter how he sat or laid, some part of his body hurt. He missed eating real food, being stuck on a liquid diet until after the surgery. He missed being able to move around, and shower unaided. Keith had been granted permission to help him shower. Each of the sticky sensor pads had left bruised behind after pealed off his tender skin. He was losing weight again, and losing his drive. He wasn't ok, and was only getting worse as he was kept waiting, unable to feel like he was being punished for getting Keith in harms way, by not being healed. He got that the Atlas couldn't leave it's orbit over the Altean ship while the investigation was on going, but didn't get why Shiro didn't open a wormhole to New Altea so that he could be put in a pod. Being comatose for a phoeb or three sounded ideal when compared to sitting in a very uncomfortable hospital bed, or trapped in his nightmares all night long thanks to the sedatives Daehra had prescribed to help him sleep through his nightly coughing fits. Lance didn't want to take more drugs. The more he craved them, the more he tried to push them away. He knew it was dangerous to fall back into his bad habits, but these new ones were working for him. They weren't filling up that hole in his heart from being unwanted, or easing the guilt he felt from relying on Keith. Quintant after quintant he was left laying there as it blurred together. To him it was like being left that cell all over again. He was constantly waiting to wake up and find himself being dragged out to Klearo's bed. Or to wake up and find himself still in the outpost, with Keith having been stolen away and cut to pieces. He wasn't stupid. He knew there had to be a network of connections when it came to Kre'el. She was just one woman... A woman he wanted answers from. A woman who'd lied to him so seamlessly and easily that the thought of her made him feel physically ill. None of these symptoms were going to clear before he was forced off the Atlas. Shiro probably didn't want him to ever return. He probably didn't want him anywhere near his team, and it didn't matter how illogical the arguments were for why that was so, his anxieties had him wrapped around their little finger. Shiro wouldn't haven't jumped in to help him, had it been him alone. He knew it. Like really knew it. The voice in his head whispered it over and over, never a kind word directed his way. He was his own worst enemy. With each quintant that passed, he was sure he was moving that much closer to insanity... Sure he was slipping away from the most wonderful boyfriend a guy could ask for. He didn't want to tie Keith down with his mental health issues. He didn't want to keep having panic attacks out of nowhere, and dreams he couldn't wake from. He wanted to be strong for Keith, but had no idea where to begin. * With his arms loaded up with bedding from the Telula and a treat from Hunk, Keith was running late. Daehra was on "Lance Duty" for the morning, his panic attacks so bad that Keith didn't want him left alone. He honestly feared for Lance hurting himself without realising he'd done it, or even worse, being caught up in a flashback and lashing out against someone he loved. Neither of them were really happy about Lance being transferred off the Atlas and out to New Altean, without answers. Lance was going through so much and taking him away without giving him answers was cruel as hell. His boyfriend wasn't reacting well to the news, hence why he'd dropped down to the kitchen to see if Hunk had something chocolaty to lift his spirits, then it was down to the Telula to get Lance a nicer blanket than the one on his hospital bed, back up to the kitchen to collect two chocolate milkshakes that looked like everything Lance wasn't supposed to be having. Lance's was packed with extra vitamins and minerals, but Keith had forgotten which one was which. His mind too busy. With Daehra and Lucteal, who was acting like Lance's personal bodyguard and limiting access to Lance's room, he knew he had the time to rustle up his surprise after a quick check up to make sure his ankle was healed properly... only for Shiro to corner him just short of his end goal. The expression his brother wore could only mean trouble... Opening the door to the room beside him, Shiro had planned to ambush him. The conveniently empty room said as much. Taking the milkshakes out of his hands, Shiro placed them down on the desk by the door, before crossing his arms and giving him his best "dad" look "Something you want to tell me?" "Uh? I was grabbing a blanket for Lance..." "Not about that. Well, about Lance, but something a little more pressing" "Not that I can think of..." Keith was confused. Shiro had that calm anger thing going on, like he was ready to snap, or turn on that disappointed tone. Personally Keith would prefer the violence, but knew Shiro would opt for disappointment because it hurt more. Reaching into his pocket, Shiro pulled out a small vial of shimmering red liquid. Keith's shock was written all over his face as he stared at the vial. Daehra wasn't stupid enough to just leave one laying around... and he had no idea how he was about to talk his way out of this. Opening his mouth, he made a weird kind of squeak before getting the words out "How did you get that?" "When Lance kept refusing painkillers, I watched over the camera footage from his room, and what do I see? I see Daehra injecting this into Lance's IV daily. I've had it analysed Keith" This wasn't his secret to be telling... Shiro had no right putting him in this position "Do you want me to tell you what I found? Or should I have you tell me what I found?" "I... ugh..." "You what Keith? Do you know how dangerous this is! You've known about this for phoebs, haven't you!?" Keith wasn't sure how Shiro pulled off apocalyptic rage that sounded do disappointed. Shaking, he nearly dropped the blankets "What were you thinking?" "Lance..." "Lance what? Didn't want me to know? You should have known better. I told you how dangerous this stuff is. If he has a drug problem, you should have told me immediately. Do you know how dangerous this is? How addictive this is? Do you understand what kind of a situation you've put me in?" Tears rolled down Keith's face and dripped onto the blankets, unable to meet Shiro's eyes "Well, do you?" "Sh-Shiro... it's not what you think" "What I think is that Lance has a drug problem you've neglected to inform me of. Do you have any idea what kind of complications that this could have caused during his surgery?" "You don't understand..." "Then tell me!" It'd been years since Keith had felt the fear that had his heart racing and his stomach flipping. The fear that came from parents or parental figures... dropping to squat, he buried his face in Lance's blanket, breathing in his scent as he tried to calm down "Then I'll go ask him..." "No!" "Then start talking. Does Coran know? Is this the secret you've all been hiding from me?" Keith shook his head. Yes, it was a secret, but not that one "You don't understand... what he's been through" "What's that supposed to mean?" "I can't... Shiro... it's not my secret to tell" "I'm sick of hearing that. This stuff could kill him. Is that what you want? Lance dead?" Falling back onto his arse, Keith shook his head "He could have died on the operating table" "Shut up!" "Keith, tell me what's going on!" "They got him addicted to it! They kept him drugged up while they tortured him! We... he... we left him alone... he was doing everything he could to forget... we've been... working on... bringing him off of the drugs. He's been making progress... then this happened. He doesn't want to be dependant on them. He doesn't want to..." Breaking down into sobs, Keith felt awful. Another precious secret gone up in flames because of him. Gulping for air, Keith hugged the blanket tighter as he rocked "We were working on this... he was getting better... you had no right..." "Keith..." "No! Don't you dare! Don't you dare... He's my husband, of course I knew about it. Of course I was helping him with. Of course he was trying to get past it... You have no idea how bad Earth was for him. He feels like he broke his whole fucking family... They kept him on this stuff... and... he doesn't want to be... he doesn't want to take them... that's why he wouldn't take more medication. He knows he has a problem, but you can't even trust him! You couldn't trust that Daehra understood. She didn't know how bad those injections were... not until... until after... I came. He couldn't cope, Shiro. He felt like none of us wanted him... he still doesn't feel wanted. This was his case and you're sending him away with no answers. He was working hard out here... only to be betrayed" Angered, Keith didn't realise the slip of his tongue calling Lance his "husband". He couldn't stop crying "I don't want him to die... I don't want him to die... he's my whole fucking world... Coran... we... would have talked to him... not where you could find out. All he's wanted is your respect. He... can't see how amazing he is... because he feels so inferior to everyone..." Keith hiccuped "He's falling apart because of this... you don't know what it's been like for him..." "Lance could have reached out for help at any time" "No..." "Yes. He knows we would be there" "No he didn't!" "Keith, you need to calm down for me" "How can I do that!? You just accused me of wanting him dead!" "I..." Keith knew Shiro pushed because he worried for the pair of them, but that didn't mean anything. He'd well and truly crossed a line "I'm sorry. But you can understand how much of a shock this has been" "It wouldn't have been a shock if you could just trust people..." "He has a drug problem" "And we were dealing with it" "What if something had happened?" "Like what?" "Like he hurt someone when he was high" "It doesn't work like that. Lance doesn't get violent without a good reason" "Are you saying that as his partner or as his friend?" "Both. He's in so much pain all the time... we've been working so hard to get though things" "And that fight you had, where he left, was that to do with this?" Keith shook his head "That's between Lance and Krolia. As far as I know, she and he have talked" "You've still left me in a tough position" "It doesn't have to be. You're sending him away anyway..." "I'm not sending him away. I'm transferring him so he could have surgery and finally go into a pod" "Something you couldn't have done sooner? You couldn't have shipped Kre'el off to Altea?" "No. You know that as well as I do" "It feels like according to you, I know nothing. It's not my first time around drugs, Shiro. You know what those homes were like. You know you can't do jack shit to help anyone who doesn't want help. He asked for help" Sighing, Shiro moved to squat down across him "You know I care about both of you. I'm just shocked that you didn't come to someone who was more experienced to get advice and help for him" "I talked to you. I talked to Coran. I talked to Krolia. I even talked to Lance's mum. But none of you could tell me what I needed to know. How could I betray his trust like that? He needs safety and stability. He needed to get his feet back under him" "I'm proud of you for trying to help him, but you're not trained in these kinds of things. Frankly I don't know if I can continue to let Daehra treat him when she's been giving him such a dangerous substance. I love you both, and all I want is the best for Lance, but you understand that these secrets aren't helping him, or helping me to figure out how to help him" "Shiro... please..." "We're both going to have a little talk with Lance about this" "You can't" Keith's heart was breaking. Lance was going to be torn apart by this. He was already depressed as it was. The conversations they did have were never about what happened, Lance steering away from the topic every time they nudged it. If they weren't talking, Lance wanted to cuddle... but his husband would stay silent for vargas at an end. He'd been so focused on getting Lance through the surgery and then into some kind of counselling and help like he'd asked for that he hadn't foreseen this kind of a speed bump. Carrying the two milkshakes with shaky hands, Shiro had plucked the blanket out his hold as the pair walked into Lance's room. Lucteal had practically glared at Shiro, acting like he didn't want to allow them access to Lance's room. And quiznak if Keith wished he hadn't. Sitting up in his bed, Lance's face brightened up at the sight of him, before falling as Shiro followed into the space "Babe... have you been crying?" Stupid Lance, seeing right through him even when he was trying to hold it all. Shaking harder, Keith barely made it to Lance's left side, placing the milkshakes down on a rather expensive looking machine that was off "It's ok, babe. I'm ok. Daehra, can you give the three of us a little space?" "She should..." "Shiro, trust me on this. Daehra, it's ok. We just need to talk to Lance about something" Daehra's eyes flicked to the IV bag, her empathic senses probably knowing what this was about "Lucteal and I will be right outside" Nodding, Lance seemed to retreat further into himself "Why don't you two go rest? I have a feeling this isn't going to be all that fun, so I'm already scheduling my after scowling nap. I've already had it all from Veronica, so we might as well get Shiro off the list too" "Alright, I understand. Keith, you know what to monitor for?" Avoiding Lance's gaze, Keith jumped at Daehra's question "Uh... yeah. Go ahead" "Please do not upset him further. He has been through quite a lot. A lot of which you would not understand" There was no settling the silent thing going on between Daehra, Lucteal and Shiro. He'd hoped for Lance's sake the would have patched up their differences over the past three movements, but that remained a big fat nope. Leaving the room, the three of them were left with a few very pregnant moments silence passing between them. Keith couldn't take knowing what was coming. He'd very nearly avoided a panic of his own under Shiro's words. Lance seemed to know whatever was going on wasn't something he wanted to talk about, and Shiro... had flicked out the blanket and was now laying it over Lance's bed. Which was supposed to be his job. He didn't want Shiro's stupid scent on his boyfriend's sheets "What is this about? Can you just spit it out already? Did you get data off the ship from the samples? Is that it?" Lance let out a dry laughed before continuing "So what are you here to laugh at me about? The drugs or what Allura did to my body? Or is it the torture? I had the feeling they filmed it... Maybe... How I fucked up and nearly got Keith killed? There's few things that make Keith cry, and with how guilty he looks, it's not something small" Keith wanted to tell Lance to shut up. His tone hurt to hear, as did him exposing all his secrets to Shiro... He hadn't thought about the fact their sample data may still exist with the outpost being destroyed, but it made sense to him that the data would have been sent on before the scene of their crimes were erased. From how Kre'el opened a wormhole, their had to be a secondary location she'd had in mind. Pulling the vial from his pocket again, Shiro held it up for Lance to see "You told him?" There was that disappointment again... this time from Lance "Keith didn't tell me. When you refused pain medication, I examined the video from this room. For privacy I had the sound turned off, but for security I left the cameras on given the prisoners we have onboard from the ship and from the mining moon the ship crashed on" Lance let out a small "oh" as he nodded "So you know I'm a drug addict?" "Keith told me how it happened. That they drugged you during torture?" "Yep. Can't just quit the stuff because it'll shut down my body if I do" Keith shifted, he didn't want Lance to hate him. He knew Shiro was only being so hard because he cared, but... he didn't know what to do or say in this moment "Lance... I'm sorry this happened to you, but why didn't you tell any of us? We could have gotten you help sooner. This could have seriously complicated your surgery. We nearly lost you... we all nearly lost you" Crossing his arms, Lance huffed "Geez Shiro, why would any want to brag that they were addicted to drugs. That I needed them to get through the fucking day. Let me just casually drop that into a group call. Hey guys, guess what? I'm a fucking druggy who's fucked in the head. Even got that touch of brain damage to prove it. Yeah. Because it's that fucking easy when you were enjoying your lives without me. Also, I heard you. I heard you yelling at Keith. I think the whole fucking floor heard you yelling at him. If you've got a problem with me, then you talk to me. You don't sneak around stealing things from my ship, and you especially don't take it out on Keith when he has been trying his hardest to get me off them. I know you worry for him, but he's the same damn age as when you went missing off Pluto. I don't want you fighting or yelling because of some waste of space like I am" "Lance, that's not what I think at all..." "Babe, no. No, you're not a waste of space" Their words overlapped. Keith could understand Lance lashing out. A tiny bit maybe even pleased that his boyfriend had scolded Shiro for yelling at him "Lance, when I saw you on that ship, cradled in Coran's arms I realised how close we'd come to losing you. I couldn't pull Keith out the healing pod... and I didn't know what to do. I don't know what to do now. I'm honestly scared for you. Scared that this could lead to you dying. And I'm scared of Keith being dragged into a situation like he did in those foster homes. There's safer ways to come off of the drugs. I know you rely on Keith, but I'm worried about the strain it'll cause on both of you" "Shiro, I'm not a kid. Not anymore. I appreciate that you came at Keith's message, and I appreciate what you've done for both of us. But this, isn't your problem. That's why you're not listed as my next of kin and Keith is in charge of my medical decisions. You should forget you saw this. It's being handled" Shiro was trying. Keith knew he was trying. He still held that anger from being kept out of the loop on this, but he was trying in his own way to make Lance see that he wanted to be there for him. Raising his head, he swallowed hard at the expression on Lance's face. It was getting too much for him "I can't forget something like this Lance. And pushing it aside isn't going to help. I care about you. Please rely on me. Please let me help you. I want to help you" "I know! You weren't supposed to know! We were working on it... weren't we?" Red-rimmed eyes looked to Keith for comfort. A hand shyly moving to pat the space next to him. Forcing himself forward, Keith climbed up into the bed, Lance curling into him as he held him tightly, nuzzling into the soft curve of the Cuban's neck as pained scent poured from his love. Shaking, his emotions were bubbling up, the dam breaking as he cried softly "We were, baby. We are. You've done so good. I'm so sorry... I didn't want... I didn't want to tell another secret" "No... shhh, I understand. I'm sorry... I'm not strong enough to..." "You are strong. So strong..." Shifting Lance's legs up and between his, Keith positioned Lance so he was leaning against his chest. The angle better for Lance's lungs "I want to die... I'm so tired... of being disappointment" "When we get to Altean, we're going to get some help. I'm not going anywhere" "It's so busy in my head... I crave it so badly..." "I know" Because he did. Lance didn't need to spend vargas explaining himself. He got it. He wasn't oblivious to the physical pain... but Lance was working so hard at being clean of everything he could be clean of. Working so hard not to keep falling apart and to find a way to keep breathing... despite what he might think or how he might act "I thought you forget... no... no one came to... to talk to me" "You thought I forgot you need help? I thought it might be easier on New Altea. Away from here" "I don't want to leave with everything how it is" "I know" "I don't know how long I'll be the in pod... I hate them. I hate them so much... I don't want to wake up. I don't want to... miss more time" "Babe, I'm not going anywhere. We're accidental married remember. I can't let someone swoop in and whoo my husband out from under me" Lance gave him a wet laugh that sounded like music to Keith's ears "Never. Never... no one but you" They'd forgotten they had an audience. Both of them crying softly as they nuzzled, seeking comfort from the person they loved the most. "I... should be going then... Lance, I want to help you. So think about it, please. Anything I can do... I respect you. And I respect what you went through. I know Daehra doesn't like me, but your team... you've got a pretty amazing team. You're a good leader. I was wrong. It was wrong of me to think I understood things better than you did. Especially out in this area of space. The work you did here, it made a real difference. And you should be proud of that. I'm sorry for ambushing you over this. We nearly lost you and I didn't want to lose you to something like this... something that I could be there for..." Sniffling and hiccuping, Lance was the kindest soul he knew. Touches had been setting him off, as had certain smells, but reaching out his busted arm, he bit his lip at pain as he waved Shiro into a hug. Shiro hugging into Keith more than Lance, most probably out of respect. Sniffling as his eyes grew wet, Shiro was just as bad as the two of them "So, accidental husband's?" Lance let out a laugh "We... didn't know we were getting married at the time. There was this alien princess who stood had us stand in this gold ring and drink this horrible wine stuff..." Kissing Lance's cheek, Keith nodded "It was Daehra's little sister Annla. We got married on their planet before we came back for Hunk and Shay's engagement party. We're still working us out... but yeah, accidentally married the best guy in the universe" "You mean the only guy who could love your mullet" "It's not a mullet" "You could grow it down to your arse and it'll always be a mullet" "That's it. If I stay with the pair of you any longer, I'm going to catch your idiocy. Lance... please, even if it's Coran. Let him in?" "Coran... knows most of it... not... not all of it... but he knows most of it" What Coran did know, Keith didn't. They'd talked before Lance had developed the secondary infection and a little after, privately "That's a really good start. I'm sorry I came down so hard on both of you. You're both like brothers to me" "Thank you, Shiro. And can you keep the whole marriage thing a secret? Hunk would kill me. He already tried to kick me out when Lance was having a panic attack" Lance didn't respond. Shiro didn't seem to notice as he detached from the hug and passed over the two very melted milkshakes. Giving Keith's shoulder on last pat, his brother left them. When the door to his room closed, Lance let out a groan "Babe?" "I fucking hate this" "What?" "He apologised and I know I should feel better or some shit, but I don't know how to feel. I've been so fucking mad at him. He said it was for security but I feel like it was because I'm such a fuck up... I don't even know if he would have come and got me... and... Kre'el... why not transfer her? How's their investigation going? Have they been to Erathus? I feel like... like he can't trust me with any of it... I have... so many... I didn't want to burden you... I..." Lance's breathing was becoming uneven. Rubbing his back with his free hand, Keith sighed softly "No, babe. No. I don't know what Shiro is doing, or why he's running things like that, but there's so many things happening at the moment. I don't doubt he cares for you" "It's... hard to let anyone else in. I feel so weak" "I promise you, secret husband of mine, you're strong as hell" "I take it you're the one who let it slip?" "I'm sorry. Shiro... he brought up some feelings I haven't really dealt with properly. From my time in the system... you know, that disappointed tone that only parents can give" "I'm so sorry, babe. I heard him... and I didn't understand it all. How did he even get the vial?" "I don't know. He shouldn't have called us out like that. It's none of his business" "He's your brother. He's worried for you. Especially after what you went through in the system. God. I wish I could back in time and met you sooner. I wish I hadn't picked so many fights with you... I hate that you went through that" "I hate that you're still suffering" "You're suffering too. I don't like bringing all these memories back for you either. Do you maybe want to tell me?" No. Hell no. Lance was down on himself as it was. Hearing Keith's messed up childhood was the last thing he needed... So why wasn't that what came out? "Only if you want to listen" "Keith, I want to know everything about you... when you're ready. Not when Shiro has scared the quiznak out of you. I can smell your fear all over you. Don't push yourself" Keith let out a deep breath of relief, Lance smacking him playfully with his milkshake "It's not that I don't want to tell you" "You'll tell me when you're ready. Believe me, as the messed up one, I get it. Can we finish these then can you help me shower, Daehra won't let shower alone? It's not Shiro's fault but his scent is setting me off" "I... don't like his scent on you either. We could skip the milkshakes?" Lance shook his head, clipping Keith's chin as he did in his enthusiasm. Cringing back, Lance frowned at him "You promised bed and chocolate... and I might be trying to hard right now not to start crying because you're being too nice to me"

There’s more, heads up; I’m sorry!

The Art of Healing

Chapter 8: What Could Have Been

I was hollow. I didn’t have a feeling left in me. The clipboard in front of me asked fairly simple questions, but nothing seemed answerable today.

The women’s clinic in Glasgow was quiet today, I’d had my assessment and I’d chosen today to have my procedure. This happened to be the anniversary of my parents death, so this day could get no worse in mind. My soul secretly hoped that my parents would look after my baby that would never be born, I hoped they were close today.

. . . . . .

It had been two and a half months since Jamie had taken me to show off his ‘project’. I watched from my apartment window for the whole weekend following that fated Friday, I watched Jamie’s car pull into the car park of his apartment building, I watched as he came out onto the street making rapid phone calls trying to find me. No light was switched on in my apartment that weekend. No door was answered, even when I heard his concerned voice on the other side, or the furious pounding of his fist.

I rang Joe, making my excuses telling him that I was sick, and needed to take a vacation for two weeks at least. Joe understood, grateful that I had a replacement to recommend.

Two further weeks passed, and being house bound had begun to take its toll, I did really begin to feel ill. It began with vomiting, and I was so tired all the time. It took me 5 weeks post Jamie, 5 weeks of no working, and constantly feeling ill, to realise that my period was late. I was pregnant.

Joe visited often, but it was only upon making my realisation that I finally confided in him. I was desperate.

“Lady Jane, every part of your complicated puzzle finally makes sense. My question is what is your next move?”

“I can’t keep this baby Joe, it’s everything I ever wanted, but not without a family, it isn’t the right time.” Saying the words was like swallowing a big bitter pill.

“And Jamie? What do you tell him?”

“Nothing. He stopped coming after I spent my second week hiding, his daily flowers stopped with his visits. I assume he’s moved on by now, the curtains are drawn because I’ve forbidden myself to look.”

Whether or not my reasoning was rational, I found I couldn’t face Jamie again, knowing that he was the boy from my childhood meant that there was still one living connection to my parents and their time on this earth. To me this connection was unacceptable and painful. I was afraid that if I continued to spend time with him that every time I looked at him I would only see our past selves.

“I’ll support you in whatever you decide Jane, but please let me help you. Just promise me that you will take a good amount of time to think things over before you do something that can’t be undone.”

“I will Joe, thank you.” Tears streaked my face, I was so glad to have a confidant. I felt completely broken, and hopelessly alone.

I went back to work eventually, I took a different route to get there, ate my lunch religiously in my office, and purposely went home late at night, after I knew Jamie would have finished his evening jog.

There was still the issue of my pregnancy, I’d set up an appointment in Glasgow to have an assessment done. Joe’s wife Gail would travel with me, and stay the week with me there. Glasgow was anonymous, I knew too many doctors and therapists in Edinburgh and I didn’t want them gossiping about me.

A problem that I hadn’t considered was the visible bump that had begun to protrude from my usually thin form, I had lost weight too, so it made my pregnancy even more obvious. I solved this issue during the day by wearing loose fitting dresses and layers to work, but at night I was battling a hideous case of the sweats and was wearing as little as possible.

On the evening before my trip to Glasgow, I was going through one such case of the night sweats, I was wearing a little tank top and pyjama shorts, but my lack of clothing wasn’t curing it. I grabbed my keys and decided on a short late night stroll downstairs to venture for fresh air. I sat on the bench outside of my apartment building for a time, my thoughts drifting, but I didn’t allow myself to think of the life growing inside of me; I never did.

I stood, and as I turned, I heard his voice. “Claire! Don’t walk away from me, you’ve had me out of my mind with worry.”

I stayed with my back to him, but he gripped my shoulder and turned me. His mouth moved as if to continue ranting, but when he looked me up and down he remained silent, as though the wind had been taken out of him.

“Claire.... ye’re... ye’re pregnant.”

“I know.”

He was clearly lost for words, I watched his internal battle; would he embrace me like his body told me he wanted to, would he yell at me, or would he ask the question he was burning to ask.

“Is it mine?”

“No.” I lied. My cheeks were burning, I was grateful for the dark, it disguised my blush.

“Then whose is it? You’ve been holed up in that apartment of yers for weeks. Have ye been seeing someone who can teleport?” His voice gave away a trace of anger, he had obviously been keeping an eye on me. “Do ye take me for a fool Claire? Tell me!” I didn’t respond, so he continued. “I’ve been sitting in silence, sometimes for hours at the other side of yer door, listening to yer crying, yer breathing, yer movements about the house. I’ve been trying to figure out why ye wouldna see me, and to work out a way to apologise. I stopped sending flowers, because it depressed me to watch them die on the doorstep. But dinna think for a second I stopped coming to check on ye.”

His words made my eyes prick with tears. I felt terrible, this man who hardly knew me, now likely felt extremely responsible for my welfare. And I wanted nothing to do with it. His presence was like a knife in my heart.

“Claire, I’ll sell the house, I’ll do anything, please just forgive me.” His pleading made me weak. I allowed him closer, up until now I had been taking steps back every time he took steps forward. His hand brushed my cheek, and he reached for my stomach, as he did so I took several steps back. “Why won’t ye let me touch ye Sassenach?” It was the recognition of the name he used for me that made me snap.

“Because if you touch me I’ll melt, and I can’t be around you, even just hearing you call me ‘Sassenach’ again it reminds me of a time when my parents were alive, I’ve already laid those memories to rest. This isn’t your child I’m carrying.”

“Yes it is Claire, ye are a terrible liar. I’ve gone through things in my life too Claire, but I choose not to run from them anymore, my parents are dead too, had ye considered that? That I ken the pain ye are going through?”

Honestly the thought had not occurred to me, and it really didn’t change much. He had dealt with his past, and I hadn’t, no one could force me to, not even him.

As I considered his words he walked towards me and took my hand in his, before I could protest he placed his other hand on my stomach.

“Can we talk about all of this Claire?”

“What ‘this’ do you want to discuss? My pregnancy? My house that you now own?”

“The bairn Claire, I ken that I might not be able to fix anything else to your liking, but I can help you with the bairn. Will you think about it?”

I barely nodded as I escaped his arms. I made to walk away, but I couldn’t help myself, I looked into his eyes. He whispered “Please, think about it.”

. . . . .

The following day I was sitting next to Gail on a plane headed for Glasgow, more determined than ever that I was doing the right thing for me. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, and certainly not the mother to Jamie ‘Sawny’ Fraser’s child.

My time in Glasgow had been a blur, and the day had finally come, I knew Gail expected me not to go through with it; she watched me like a hawk as I stared at the questions on the clipboard.

My stubbornness prevailed. Whether this proved to be a good or bad thing, only time would tell. I finished the paperwork, and was brought into a room where I put on a paper gown. The procedure was short, and I went back to the hotel room with Gail immediately after. Then I slept, and cried, and slept for 72 hours, barely eating, before I had to pack and get back to my life.

When the car pulled up outside of my apartment, I gave Gail a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for escorting me and for being there. I dropped my bags inside my apartment, and decided to head straight out again and go for a walk. I felt fragile, health wise I was fine, I had been healing nicely, and almost all traces of my pregnancy had disappeared. My soul, on the other hand, needed desperate attention. I walked awhile and then headed for my favourite bench seat, but it was occupied.

He had heard me coming. “Where have you been?” He asked, “I’ve been by yer apartment everyday, but I havena heard ye, did ye go somewhere? Did ye think about what I said?”

He looked up, surveying me. It dawned on him that I was no longer sporting the bump of early pregnancy. He stood up, and gave me a look that I didn’t recognise.

“Did ye do this to yerself?” He pointed at my stomach. “Did ye remove it Claire?”

I felt ashamed, and couldn’t muster the words to tell him I had, so I nodded.

I’d never seen someone change so quickly in my life, his expression was one of pure loathing. “How the fuck could ye do it? Take away our bairn. Take it away without even consulting me!”

“It wasn’t your decision to make.” I said simply, believing my words to be true. It wasn’t his choice.

“I’ve been here hoping that ye were taking time to think about what I said to ye last week, and now this shit. I’ll never forgive ye.” His eyes flashed dangerously, but instead of saying anything else, he walked away from me.

I yelled after him. “You don’t understand Jamie, I wasn’t ready, I don’t know how to have you in my life, I’m scared, I don’t know how to deal with everything I’m feeling about you, about my parents, about the baby.”

He carried on walking. His pace never once faltering.

I was still convinced what I had done was the right thing; irrespective of how I felt about dealing with Jamie and his relationship to my past, our romantic relationship was too new.

But when I looked inside of myself, I knew it was only my stubbornness that had carried me this far in my rift with Jamie. What sort of a psychologist could I be when I was so fucked up. I needed to fix it with him, but I had no idea where to start, and quite frankly I wasn’t sure that there was anything I could do.

What I did know was that while I worked on Jamie, I also needed to work on finally putting my feelings about my parents death to rest.

I fell into a deep and disturbed slumber once I was back in my apartment and in bed. I hadn’t been able to shake the horrible sinking feeling of loss, the loss of something that I had once wanted so desperately, even knowing it wasn’t the right time, I couldn’t convince myself out of feeling it.

Mend this Porcelain Heart of Mine

So this is a prompt fill for a wonderful anon who asked for a fic where the reader is coming out of an abusive relationship.

I hope you enjoy this and I do hope you are in a better place, dear friend.

This will be cross-posted as always to AO3 so please feel free to head over and give this a kudos or a comment.

Title: Mend this Porcelain Heart of Mine

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Domestic abuse, emotional abuse, some verbal abuse, and mention of an eating disorder.  Please take care if these are triggers for you.

Broken heart one more time Pick yourself up Why even cry? Broken pieces in your hands Wonder how you'll make it whole

You know you pray This can't be the way You cry, you say Something's got to change And mend this porcelain heart of mine...

There could only be so many cracks in a porcelain figure that cannot be repaired, the pain remaining the same.

It would take just one more slap, one more kick, one more vicious insult for her to shatter into a million pieces.  It had taken hollow words, tearful apologies and countless soft caresses to tape over those broken parts of her, over and over again.

He would go too far one day, when he would not hold back, when he would unleash the strength of his hatred upon her and her life may come to a singular, violent end.

He had beaten her before, when he was not happy with the meals she cooked or if she had been on the phone to friends, or if she passed in front of the television when he was watching sports.  Every little thing she did or said was picked apart until she was almost afraid to breathe for fear of provoking him.

She could never eat in front of him, for she chewed too loud and needed to lose weight anyway, in his mind, so she believed him, often going to bed hungry and skipping meals to try and conform to the ideals of beauty that he wanted.  

He was close to convincing her to quit her job so she could stay at home and he could focus on his own career, that her place was in the home and that she belonged to him and only him.  It had come to a point where she did not even look up while they were out with the constant fear of meeting another man's eyes and be accused of wanting to cheat on him.

He would constantly check her phone, accuse her of deleting messages, and stalk her social media pages to make sure that she would not even like photos or posts from other male friends.

One night, he had pressed her phone so hard against the side of her head that the bones in her ear were thrumming for hours after launching into a tirade about a supposed conversation she had with a colleague from work, his hand yanking sharply at her hair to punctuate his meaning, "You're so fucking sly.  I know your game, you little slut.  You were talking to him again, weren't you?  I know your expressions, you can't hide a goddamn thing from me, you little bitch.  Next time, I won't be so kind.  I'll break every fucking bone in your body, you understand?"

All she could do was whimper, "Yes, Jake."

What followed was a swift backhand and she had fallen to the ground.  "Now stay down there where you belong.  You're nothing without me, and it's about time you realised that."

It would be so easy just to take such things, to accept them as the truth.  It would be so easy to just believe him, that she was nothing, and that she had been flirting with her eyes all the time, that she gave out this vibe that she was going to sleep with every man she came into contact with.  It would be so easy to starve herself, to make herself ill, just to fit into that impossible mould of feminine beauty that did not even exist.  It would be so easy to distrust her own mind that was screaming that he was wrong, that she did everything for him, had given up so much for him and yet it was never enough.

It would be so easy to just let him murder her...

"No one misses you.  No one even looks for you at those fucking parties you like so much.  No one would miss you at work.  Just look at the state of you, with no fucking talent.  I'm the only person who knows what you're worth.  You're nothing without me..."

Nothing... nothing... nothing...

But tonight, when he had lunged at her in a drunken rage, hands reaching for her throat, calling her a cheating whore, that the man whose music she had been listening to was a lowlife bastard with a stupid band and no talent, that the decision flooded to life like a switch being flicked, bringing reason back to her beaten, downtrodden mind.

I don't have to take this...

I can fight this...

I am not nothing...

I have to run...

I have to live...

The momentum of her moving away just out of his reach almost sends her falling backwards, but in a surprising agile move, she had turned away from him immediately, the flight instinct kicking in strongly, knocking over a standing lamp to make an extra obstacle for him to traverse, dashing for the apartment door, having some sense to grab her car keys and phone from the hall table, her hands slick with sweat almost sliding off the door knob.

In a moment of sheer panic, she almost thought she was trapped when his heavy footsteps advanced towards her, but a single turn and she had thrust herself out into the corridor, running as fast as she can for the stairwell, not even daring to look back, his voice echoing after her, "Get the fuck back here!  Get back here, you little bitch!  You're mine!  Get back here, right now!"

She almost trips over her own feet as she descends the four flights to the ground floor, racing with all speed to her car, hands shaking so much that she almost drops the keys, opening the door and sitting in, turning the ignition on.

All the while, she looks in the rearview mirror to check that she hadn't been pursued, the icy fear that he could very well catch her and drag her back inside ever present.

The car engine roars to life and she pulls out rather recklessly out of the complex parking lot, not even paying attention to the speed limit or the direction she was taking until she was certain that he had not followed her.

It is at least ten minutes before she is even calm enough to think clearly, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the next gas station comes into view on the long, deserted road like a welcome beacon.

Slowly, she turns the car into the small parking lot round the back, switching the engine off and sitting still for a long moment where the only sound was her laboured breathing, before she covers her face and gives into the utter despair and shock that she had escaped her abuser with her life.

Her phone lies on the passenger seat, the screen coming to life with messages, one after another, all commanding her to come back, that they could talk, work it out.

But she knew there was no turning back.  If she even set foot in that apartment again, he would either take her in again with more meaningless apologies, or he would wring her neck and leave her for dead.

Never before had she felt so alone, having not confided in any of her friends, having been completely cut off from those she cared for, both in work and in her personal life.  Jake had skilfully weaved a complex web of lies that made her believe that she did not need her friends, that she only needed him.  It had been a devious manipulation from the beginning where she was nonethewiser, having been so in love and hardly believing that a man like Jake would never notice a girl like her.

The man he had accused her of having an affair with the most often, and whose cover album she had been listening to that night had been one of the few friends she had done her utmost to stay in touch with, despite Jake's best efforts to keep them separated.  

If she lost everything else in her life, she could not lose her friendship with Danny.

Sweet, kind, steadfast Danny...

Her thoughts come to a singular focus now on him, and her heart begins to ache painfully, knowing that he was her only hope now.  His kindness and warm caring had been her touchstones through the violence and mental anguish, where she would listen to one of the more quiet tracks from 'Under the Covers', hear his voice and instantly begin to remember how to breathe again.

She had not told him anything about the abuse, or what Jake had been accusing her of pertaining specifically to him, but now she felt that it was time to reach out to Dan, because she needed him so badly.

It was just after nine in the evening as she sat in the gas station parking lot, darting frantic looks as any other car passes by, dialling his number with shaking fingers, listening to the steady ringing sound before he picks up, "Hello?"

All of a sudden, at the sound of his greeting, the gentle cadence of his voice that was a literal godsend, she cannot speak.

"Hello?"

All she can manage is a hitched intake of air.

"Hey... it's you, isn't it?  Are you okay?  What's wrong?"

His name is a rushed exhale, voice cracking and tremulous on those two syllables, "Danny..."

"Yeah, I'm here.  I'm here... tell me what's wrong, you sound... I've never heard you like this, ever."

Vision swimming with tears, she mumbles, "I... I... he tried to... I had to... he wanted to kill me, and I... I couldn't..."

A sharpness rises in his tone, mixed with urgency, "Woah, woah, slow down.  Who wanted to kill you?  What is going on?"

"Jake... he... he wanted to hurt me again... he nearly attacked me, I had to run, I had to get away... and now I'm here in my car and I am so frightened and I just... I just... I don't know what to do... I don't know where to go, I'm just stuck and I can't... I can't..."

Dan's voice becomes quite loud, "Oh my God... are you hurt?  Did you say you're in your car?  Is he still there?  Where are you?"

She manages to breathe quite deeply, doing her utmost to remain calm and not cause him any undue worry, "No, no, I'm fine.  He almost grabbed me and I don't know what he would have done.  I just ran away, got to my car and just drove as fast and as far away as I could.  I'm behind a gas station miles away, he didn't follow me.  I had to leave, he was going to kill me... I can't... I can't... please... please, help me, Danny, please..."

"Slow down, slow down.  Listen, just take a deep breath.  Just breathe, you're okay.  Let me think for a second..."

She can hear Dan's footsteps, as if he was pacing about and she can only imagine how agitated he was and it was all her fault.  She just had to drag him into this, she couldn't have just gone on alone...

She does as he asks, leaning forward until her forehead is resting on the steering wheel, willing her brain to stop firing on all cylinders, to be calm and to let Dan help her rather than become hysterical.

"Where are you?"

On the drive, she had not paid any attention to roadsigns or any landmarks, so she admits quietly, "I don't know, I just kept driving.  A few miles from the apartment, I think?"

"Stay there, let me come to you."

The guilt floods her in a rush, "No, please.  I can't have you coming out in the middle of the night."

"I'm already out the door, so I'm doing this."

She sniffs, wiping her cheek with her sleeve, "Okay..."

"Send me a Google maps or one of those map pin things to let me know where you are.  Don't get out of your car until you see me, okay?"

"Okay, I'll do that."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, sweetheart, okay?  I'm on my way, I'll be right with you.  Stay in your car, I'm on the way."

She can only manage one more 'Okay' before she has to hang up, quickly dropping a location pin on Google maps and sending it to him, clutching her phone tight like a lifeline and praying for him to get to her soon.

Twenty minutes later...

The headlights of an approaching car make her freeze, having been a tightly coiled spring ever since ending the previous phonecall, but as soon as they are switched off and the driver exits, the wild halo of curls and tall, lean figure are unmistakeable.

He steps towards the car, ducking down slightly to peer through the windscreen at her, his eyes wide and his lips mouthing her name.

Her movements are almost in slow motion as she pushes open her own door, stepping out and saying his name with such desperation, "/Danny/..."

She does not make it three steps before he sprints over to her, arms open wide and catches her in a strong, clumsy hug as all her strength fails and she sags against him, clinging on as if her very life depended upon it.

Luckily, they are close to a side wall of the gas station as he leans back and slightly to the left, lowering himself down to the ground, holding her against him, rocking her gently and murmuring her name over and over.

"You're safe... you're safe... no one is going to hurt you... you're safe, sweetheart... I'm here, ssshhhh..."

Her sobs are loud and unrestrained as she buries her face in his chest, pouring out all the pain that she had endured for so long, hands trying to find purchase in the material of his jacket, needing his stability, his comfort, this safe haven.

After several minutes of weeping and having Dan gently stroke down her hair, when she quietens down, she allows Dan to help her to her feet, and she leans against him as they walk to his car.

As they pull up in front of Dan's house, her phone had not stopped vibrating with missed calls and messages, which they both elected to not acknowledge.

He reaches for her phone and decisively switches it off, throwing it rather sharply into the glove compartment and shutting it with a snap that makes her jump.

He immediately looks over at her with a sorrowful expression, "Shit... sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you..."

"No, it's okay."  Her heart thumping loudly in her ears told a different story but she attempts to give him a smile, despite her prickling nerves.

"I just... he wouldn't leave you alone and it pissed me off... sorry..."  Resting his head back against the seat, he breathes slowly, eyes shut.

The silence becomes quite awkward now as she stares downwards, wringing her hands, clenching tightly and untwisting her fingers, feeling utter shame at how low she had come to before realising that she could have just left him.

She hears Dan whisper her name and she looks over with large eyes glimmering with unshed tears, "Let's get inside, okay?"

Nodding, she opens the passenger door, following him with her head bowed, looking back over her shoulder with still some measure of paranoia, that somehow Jake could track her phone or her smell like a bloodhound, that he would find her and drag her back.

She manages to keep all that worry well hidden as Dan leads her into his house with one hand on her back, locking the door and sliding the security chain across.

"There.  No one is getting in here."

She nods, that small measure of relief quite strong.

"Take a seat, make yourself at home."

He gestures to the sitting room and she makes her way to the sofa, sitting on the edge, fiddling with her sleeves, doing her best to breathe steadily, that lingering fear still present despite being in Dan's home where she was safe.

After a few minutes, Dan returns from the kitchen with a plate and a mug in hand, setting them down in front of her on the coffee table.

She glances over, and notices that it is a grilled cheese sandwich cut into four triangles, a knife and fork beside it and the mug is filled with tea.

"There wasn't much in my fridge, I just whipped up what I could, but grilled cheese is always a winner in my book."

Dan sits beside her with a soft smile, tucking one leg under his knee and resting his elbow on the back of the sofa, but still keeping a small space between them.

Instantly, her mind goes into overdrive about calorie content and not being able to exercise to burn the fat, but her exterior is quite calm.  She smiles, saying politely, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry, I'm sorry you went to this trouble."

Dan tips his head to one side, giving her a firm look, "I heard your stomach growl on the way over."

"Still... I'm not hungry."

He was being so kind, but she didn't deserve it.  She had already brought him out in the middle of the night and now she was going to eat his food.  She didn't deserve it...

Dan frowns, "You've had a shock, you have been running on adrenaline all night and you need to keep your strength up."

She is close to snapping at him, restraining herself to say in a tight voice, "I told you that I'm not hungry."

She did not want to have this argument, to make up an excuse that she had no appetite when she was actually starving, that if he had a piece of fruit that she would prefer it instead, having gone without dinner to reach Jake's goal weight to be finally deemed perfect in his eyes.

But she knew deep down that even a healthy choice would fill her with guilt, so low had her self esteem become.

Dan blinks quite fast, his voice cracking, "You look so pale and you're shaking.  Please... why won't you eat?"

"I don't want to be fat."

The words spoken in a rushed whisper hang in the air and the shock on Dan's face cuts deeper than any blade.

He shakes his head several times, saying so softly, "Listen to me... you are not going to be fat.  You need to be healthy and not become ill.  You can't hurt yourself this way..."

Dipping her head, white hot shame coursing through her, she smothers a whimper, knowing that he was right, but she just couldn't bring herself to even look at the sandwich on the plate, the fear of weight gain hanging over her like the sword of Damocles.

There is a clink of cutlery against the plate and she brings herself to look up again, watching as Dan cuts a small section of one of the triangles, putting it on the fork and raising it up between them.

"Please... just one piece?  For me, please?"

His eyes are soulful, full of tears and the fact that he had to beg her to eat was more than she could bear.

Obediently, after much mental anguish, she manages to lean forward, opening her mouth with great reluctance, and he gently feeds her the piece of the sandwich, tilting her chin up with his index finger as he lifts the fork out and away from her mouth.

That simple contact almost made her tremble, but she does not let on.

She chews slowly, feeling the crunchy and soft textures along with the firework explosion of flavour on her tongue as she swallows thickly, the food making its way into her empty stomach and she lets out a contented sigh as Dan visibly brightens with relief.

"Better?"

"Yes... I will eat the rest.  You were right, I am really hungry... I'm sorry for lying..."

"Don't apologise, it's okay.  Just don't make yourself sick."

"I won't.  Thank you..."

Dan nods, standing up and making his way back to the kitchen in order to give her some privacy, for which she was extremely grateful.

Picking up the knife and fork, she cuts the rest of the sandwich up and eats it slowly, despite wanting to cram it all into her mouth, humming in pleasure, almost embarassed at reacting in such a way, since it was only an ordinary grilled cheese sandwich and not a gourmet meal.  

But the fact that Dan had made it, that he had wanted to make her strong again after he being so beaten down, it filled her up with energy and nourishment on so many levels.

She takes several large swallows of tea, not even caring to ask if he had put sugar or skimmed milk in it, only wanting to drink it down.

Feeling warm and pleasantly full, she allows herself to lie down on the sofa with a cushion beneath her head, sense beginning to unwind, sleep creeping into slowly but surely.

She hears Dan's footsteps approaching, and he leans down, saying quietly, "Tired?"

"Yeah..."

"Come on, you can sleep in my bed tonight."

This was too much.  He had rescued her in the middle of nowhere, made her food and now he was offering her his bed.

"Dan..."

"I insist.  My house, my rules.  You deserve a good rest and my bed happens to be super comfortable and comically large."

Not having the strength to argue, she nods in silent agreement, following him to the bedroom, pushing any wayward romantic thoughts from her mind.

"You can borrow a shirt if you want, just so you're not sleeping in your clothes.  I know how uncomfortable that can be sometimes."

"Okay, thank you."

Searching through his drawers, she comes across a 'Rush' band t-shirt that she had admired previously, which had been her first introduction to the band he loved so much, remembering when he had made her a playlist of his favourite songs, which was quite lengthy and had been the greatest solace during Jake's torrent of abuse apart from his own music.

The shirt is like a dress on her and that feeling of safety is increased even more.

There is a quiet knocking at the door, followed by Dan asking through the door, "You okay?"

She hurriedly folds her clothes and goes over the the bed, getting under the covers, and lying on her side, facing the door, calling out, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Is it okay if I come in?"

"Yes."

Dan peeks his head in the door, "You were able to find something?"

She nods, pushing the blankets down a little bit and he chuckles as he recognises the logo, "Good choice."

A pause.

"So... I'll just say goodnight."

Disappointment floods her suddenly, and she inquires quite innocently, "You're not sleeping in here?"

"No, the couch will be fine."

Raising an eyebrow, she raises herself up onto one elbow, "Dan, you are hardly going to fit on that couch.  I know you are tall."

Dan looks aghast, "I'm... tall?  Say it isn't so."

Shaking her head with a smile, she says quite softly, "I've imposed enough on you.  I am not depriving you of this large bed or a good night's sleep.  I'd feel bad..."

Dan huffs a sigh, "Well... I didn't want to... like, make you uncomfortable, and I thought that you maybe wanted to have some space, that's all.  But... you'd like to share the bed?"

Rather than giving him a word answer, she shifts back until there is enough space for him to lie down in front of her, stretching her arm across the mattress and patting the space several times, with no hint of longing or flirtation, only a want for him to sleep comfortably.

Dan gives in with a quiet chuckle, "I'll just get the lights."

Turning over onto her opposite side, her back to him now, she closes her eyes just as the lights are flicked off, listening to the sound of rustling clothing and shoes being discarded, feeling the mattress dip slightly as Dan crawls into bed behind her, lifting the blankets and getting under the covers with her.

Still, she does not move, very aware of her own breathing and pulse thundering in her ears.

"I... I tend to sleep with my shirt off... good old California weather, but I can put something on, if you..."

"No, it's fine... it's pretty warm this time of year."

"Okay.  Well... goodnight."

"Goodnight."

A pause.

She hears Dan say her name once again and she makes a quiet sound of inquiry, "Just one last thing, that I sometimes toss and turn in my sleep, so if I am moving too much, just nudge me and I'll stop."

"Okay."

A pause.

"Dan?"

"Yeah?"

Grateful for the darkness so he cannot see her obvious blushing, she asks shyly, "Can we... I mean... I'd like to hold your hand..."

"My hand?"

"Yeah... just to know that you're there."

Way to sound so pathetic...

"Sure... just let me... I'm just going to move up behind you... and put my arm around you..."

His arm comes around her waist, his hand coming to rest lightly on her belly, the warmth radiating outwards from his palm that makes her shudder pleasantly as he holds her securely against his chest, stretching out so they can easily spoon together.

Tentatively, she covers his hand, sliding her fingers in between his and holding as tight as she could, his fingers curling inwards in response.

Her eyes flutter closed as he presses a light kiss to her hair, just above her temple, his breathing stirring the strands close to her ear, before he begins a gentle humming of a melody that she cannot place, but is not unlike a soft lullaby.

Just let me stay here... let me stay here with you, please... please, just let me stay...

More than anything, she wanted to look into his eyes, to lose herself in them, and tell him everything that she had been too afraid to even express in a phonecall or a text, when her abusive partner had threatened to break her phone if she ever spoke to him.

But Jake wasn't here anymore.  She was with Danny, and all was right in the world.

Carefully turning over in his arms until she is laying on her back, she gazes up at Dan, finding that their faces were much closer together than she had predicted, and his hitched breath gusts against her lips as their eyes meet, even in the dark of the bedroom, she knows without question that he was looking straight at her.

Without even thinking, she inclines her head upwards those last few inches to gently kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting in some small way to thank him for everything he had done tonight that she could not express in mere words.

Before she can move her head back down again, Dan has turned his face more towards her and their lips brush together featherly light, the sensation making her heart knock loudly in her ears while Dan shifts closer, their legs sliding against each other as he presses along the entire length of her body, wrapping her up in his embrace and the tangle of blankets, nuzzling her nose with a quiet murmur, "You're so beautiful..."

Not giving her a chance to reply, he has leaned down for a soft kiss, catching her lower lip and making her back arch with a needy sound, tilting his head and pecking her lips gently once again, dotting kisses across her cheeks and her nose before gently kissing her once more, still so softly.

Not simply content to just lie there, she slowly slides her hand up the side of his neck, weaving her fingers through the soft, thick curls, cupping his cheek and responding with shy eagerness.

When they draw apart from air, Dan lets out a breathless chuckle, "Wow... that was... wow."

She cannot help but giggle at his lack of vocabulary, hardly blaming him as her own mind was still cloudy after such sweet kisses, still playing with his hair while looking up at him with doe eyes.

"You're okay?"

"Yes... more than okay, now."

"Good.  I don't want to rush things, like... you've had a fucking terrible time and you need to be taken care of, and I want to do that for you.  I mean, if that's what you want?"

Swallowing thickly past the lump in her throat, she manages to whisper, "That's all I want.  I just want you..."

Dan appears to be quite moved at this, raising his hands to gently cup her face, holding her in place so they can keep that steady, intense eye contact, "I'm here, if you need me.  Tonight and for as long as you need, okay?  I'll take care of you however you want and nothing is going to change that."

"You promise?"  Her voice cracks with emotion, as Dan leans down to kiss her lips, murmuring, "I promise, baby... I promise..."

Leaning their foreheads together, he says gently, "I think we should sleep now.  You've had a long night."

As much as she wanted to stay up all night with him, she lets out a quiet yawn, rubbing her eyes.  "Okay..."

"I'll be right here beside you, okay, sweetheart?"

"Okay... thank you."

"No problem.  Just rest now.  I've got you and you're safe."

The thought that she loved him crossed her mind, but remained unspoken for now, even as he returned to spooning her, nuzzling his face into her neck after giving her one last kiss goodnight, their hands finding each other and dovetailing together.

This must be what a safe haven felt like: she never thought it could ever exist again for her, but here it was in his arms, loving her back to life.

this is a pretty heavy post like, feel free to ignore it bc im just. in a really bad place right now and i need to vent and say things other than ‘im so tired’ because it doesn’t accurately encompass how i actually feel

So, like. 2012? Sometime after my mom died I got into a really bad place mentally, with everything piling up; my shit life, my shit aunt, my shit roommate, just shit after shit, my money kept going to bills, i didnt eat for weeks at a time. 

I was in a really bad place. Like, horrifically bad. Only made worse by my aunt taking me to the hospital and telling the doctors there I was suicidal. To be fair, I was, but being locked in, what’s essentially a cell with a wooden bed? Not Fun. 

I tried getting better, I went to a therapist and a psychiatrist, got on medicine. talk about my problems, tried moving on. 

it didnt work. i felt a sense of uselessness around that time. i was 20 and my mom died less than a year ago. 

i’d been nursing my bad health since i was a kid, and when mom’s diagnosis came when i was 17...it was a lot to handle. and as time went on, my aunt got more distant until it was me, a barely old enough fresh high school graduate, trying to juggle college, full time work and taking care of my sick (and dying) mom. 

two years is a lot of time to have that much pressure put on you. and it does a lot to a person’s psyche when you go from being On at all times, to suddenly, you’re sitting in a hospice, telling your mom it’s okay to rest now. you’ll be fine. 

you start feeling useless, i guess. you just. don’t know what to do anymore. your mom’s gone, you’re out of work for a week to “mourn” but really. you spend the week staring at the wall wondering what you could have done better. 

(the spoiler is, nothing. nothing. death is fucked up. mom knew. the whole time she was going through the stages, making herself okay with the idea of dying. im glad she’s resting now. the last few years of her life were hard. too hard for one woman to handle.)

some could say that my anger and depression and sadness and just emptiness came from grief, maybe. maybe im still not over it. (spoiler: im not). 

i remember, my aunt calling me the day my roommate was in the hospital, i was with her, sitting with her. and i’d called my manager to let him know that i was on my way to work, i shouldn’t be late but if traffic gets bad, then i might be late. 

my aunt calls, yells at me, calls me a lot of names to the point im sobbing in my roommates hospital room. not an uncommon occurrence at that point. my aunt making me cry. i was 20 and my aunt had been doing that for about 10 years at that point. 

my roommate takes the phone, says something i can’t remember to her and hangs up. and then she calls a nurse who takes me aside, sits me down in a room and asks me if i need to leave. if my aunt’s abusing me or hurting me. 

it was a long day at the hospital. and then, later on that night, as im about to take myself to the local hospital to find out what i need in order to see a therapist, my aunt hijacks my plans and drags me there herself. takes me to the ER, tells them she’s worried about her niece’s who’s suicidal. 

and anyway. to make a long story short. i spend a lot of time in this tiny box of a room, with no shoes or pants or shirt. in my underwear and a gown, sitting on a wooden frame bed with no blanket. 

when i finally get my aunt out of the room, and i talk to the psych lady who came down from the ward, she asks me if i need to leave my aunt, asks if my aunt’s hurt me or hit me. 

at the time, i didnt realize that abuse in the context she was asking also meant verbal, mental and emotional. i didnt realize that’s what my aunt was doing until way later. 

the more i talked to a therapist later on, the more i realized that things were messed up. that my aunt’s treatment of me wasn’t right. that my aunt, as a whole, is abusive. 

i was 20 when i tried to commit suicide. 

i dont talk about it ever, because it was a point in my life i’ve been trying hard to forget. 

i was just. so wrung out. my roommate left me with a 300 dollar power bill despite “promising” to pay her share. my landlord kept bothering me about rent even though i’d always remind her when i’d get paid, my aunt wouldn’t stop. and i just felt alone. 

so fucking alone. i was empty and hollow and my house and life were a fucking mess. 

at that point, i’d been trying to think of a way that seemed natural i guess. just. something that no one would realize i’d done it on purpose. 

i didn’t have any money for food, so starving myself seemed like the best option. and so, i didnt eat. for days and then weeks and then months. 

my dumb brain just, thought that, well, ive already got bad stomach problems. my stomach already bleeds. if i don’t eat then the acid just gets worse, it’ll make me bleed. 

didn’t count on passing out during work and being rushed to the ER. 

i lied then and said it was because i didn’t have the money to eat. and so afterwards, my manager and coworkers made sure i ate something. 

but i mean, it wasn’t a glamorous experience. until today, i hadn’t told anyone that me not eating for those months was actually me trying to sabotage my own life. 

but yeah. 

what all this is leading up to is. i feel myself slipping back into that mindset. only this time, i can’t get out of it. i don’t have a therapist, or medication to help. my aunt is on my ass constantly and won’t let me get a job without threatening me homelessness. 

and its tearing me up on the inside. ive been in so much physical pain these past few days. everyday its hard to get out of bed and find the will to do anything.

we had an argument the other day, because i finally couldn’t handle her yelling. i told her how i felt about her and she told me to leave the room. so i went outside. and. fuck. i kept mapping out the quickest way to get to the busy street where all the cars were. if i could just get out there without her seeing then i could just...

when i keep saying im tired, i mean it as, this bone deep i can’t take it anymore tired. the i need to get out of here before something happens to me tired. the i am at the end of my line and if something doesn’t change soon im going to die tired. 

im trying so hard to stay okay. to keep all this in and not bombard people with it. hatching plans and trying to figure out how to get the money to leave. where to go when i do leave. 

but god its so hard. im just so tired.

and i dont know what to do. 

my aunt “paid” me for the last transport and i got 75 dollars. two days of nonstop driving and caring for 16 dogs. 75 dollars. that’s for groceries and my phone bill. and absolutely nothing for savings. 

fuck.

04.22.20

I have been harboring a lot of pain and anger feelings for jen in the back of my head for the last 10 years. When I see her in person, I feel so good that I don’t have a need to bring it up, but those negative feelings, eventually, always return. I finally decided to let it all go and explain to her how I felt— the first part is the letter I read to her over the phone and the second part are my own thoughts and recollection after the phone call.

Part 1:

Maybe you have your issues with me because of that period in high school but it was never to push YOU away. I won’t diminish the fact it was detrimental to you regardless, but I didn’t intentionally prioritize myself at your cost. That happened to be the result of my stupidity and lack of communication. When you left for college, it was hard but you kind of repeatedly put yourself over me and our friendship, and it took a toll. We came back together once you found more balance in your school life and started depending on me more when you and worth broke up. I eventually moved back to New York and you had your off year; that was one of my favorite years. I like you because I have fun with you and because I like to hear you talk. I have often been angry when you couldn’t make it for me, even if it wasn’t your fault, and it constantly remained in the back of my head. But then when I see you it’s like those feelings wash away, and I’m like oh thisss is why I love hanging out with her. When you left, it made me really distant, which was better than fighting with you, but it hollowed me out. You had Mo, you had your life, you were busy. I wasn’t unhappy for you but you didn’t need me or make me feel needed. When I eventually moved on from Caitlin to Ivan, he brought on this intense joy and intimacy that I hadn’t experienced since hs. He made me feel so loved, and so crazy. It consumed me. With Levi, my other friends, and often you I feel grounded. Good positive feelings, nothing crazy. He fucking riled me up so much. Eventually it overwhelmed me but it felt amazing while it lasted. And I remember being so angry with you because why couldn’t you just let me be happy? You were hurt that I left you and it frustrated me that I should consider your feelings once again over mine. Talking to you normally made me feel empty. You were so fucking busy, and I was so busy that i didn’t feel connected when we spoke. But with Ivan, I always felt so good. I always craved that. Why couldn’t you let me have that? Because it came at your expense?

We call each other best friends and the reason I say I don’t need you there for me everyday is because you haven’t always been there for me. The person I talk to everyday now is Levi, and maybe that’s why in your own way you can’t fully trust me. I understand that- the feeling of giving your all to someone who won’t give it back. I wouldn’t want to ask you to irrationally be there for me but there are ways to make me special, which I feel I’ve done for you such as birthdays. My last birthday was one of my favorites because you actually made it. I was hesitant in telling you to even come because I didn’t want to let myself hope. I would rather sabotage myself than be let down.

The things that I perceive important are different than what you want/or are used to giving. Literally the first time ever I got hurt by you was when i walked you home after SPI and wanted to come over to your house but you said no. Obviously I understood the reason, but at that time I was SO taken aback because I had never experienced that. I thought we were friends because we had been eating together and hanging out all the time that I didn’t understand why wouldn’t just tell your parents you wanted a friend over even if you were scared.

There’s been times in the past when you made me feel like utter shit. I’ve gone to bat with my mom in the past about you. I remember in college you told me that you couldn’t tell your mom about me because I wasn’t in school and “what’s there to really say”. you were afraid to stand up to your parents even tho I’m your best friend. I under at and it’s your personality and your life but it was painful. There was a point that, I don’t even think you were angry, but you said something like I was bad influence on you. And you said it off handed, not accusatory— you said that at the end of the day, it was still your actions— but that was hurtful. The reason I get pissed and jealous is because sometimes it feels like you do stuff for others that you don’t do for me. Like when Sarah came over to your place. Or that time we went to Brooklyn shuffle with mo and Naomi and you posted a picture of just you and her. I mentioned it and you called me Nadiya which aggravated tf out of me and effectively made me want to shut up. I know it was mostly irrational and not a big deal, but I was annoyed that I planned the meetup Cuz of my bday but you honored her. It was tiny, but still hurt me and made me feel little. (Yes I know you posted a pic of us for my actually birthday but that’s not the point).

The bachelorette thing annoyed me a lot how it happened, at the time, but when I look back it was actually almost perfect. Nadiya was the one who fucked everything up. And also me, for picking a shitty restaurant. But what annoyed me after was that you didn’t talk to Nadiya. You explained that because you don’t care for her as a friend anymore, and didn’t want to bring it up but I felt like I wasn’t prioritized in that situation. Like I was full of anger and just had to let it go without any resolve.

I rmmbr a few months ago Levi was away for work and I was feeling extremely low, and I asked you something like ‘what do you do for me’ and you responded by saying that it was shitty of me to keep count. I was feeling hormonal from the implant but it makes me feel lonely when i think you can depend on me but I can’t depend on you. I don’t ask a lot of you, or at least I try my best to not bother you too much, which is why it feels good when you do things for me on your own. When you show me that you’ve thought of me. There was this meme I saw that said “affection hit different when you don’t gotta ask for it” that’s how I feel, maybe that’s just me being spoiled idk

The thing is I’m oblivious which is why I like it when you tell me “this is what I did for you” bc it keeps me in check. If I’m constantly reminded you love me, then I don’t have to doubt it or be stuck in my own head. I know you show your love in less obviating ways but they mean so much. When you’re patient with me, I appreciate that a lot. I don’t like when you spend money on me. I love quality time. I love when you make me feel important. I often don’t feel like that which is why I bitch at you lol. It might all be in my head, but how can I be sure? I’m the only one thinking about it 🤔

I am bringing up all the things not because they necessarily bother me anymore but I want to stop holding on to all of it. Feel free to yell at me about the shit I’ve done to you too, I know there’s been a lot. But I do love you, even if we just love each other differently. Even if you don’t post as many pics of me on your IG as I’d like, and I don’t like the pics you do post of me🤦🏽‍♀️ I cant help compare myself to your other friends. Why do they get better captions than me🙄 why do you cook for them and not me. Why do I always compare myself to them and feel like I’m on the losing end. I know this side of me is crazy which is why I like to keep it hidden. I know that you actually do love me (I think). But I feel I’m constantly thinking about how I personally can make you feel good. How to be reliable. How to be there for you. Like that weekend when you were upset about Aaron not responding and him possibly canceling the date. I knew you were in a shit mood so i wanted to do everything in my power to make you feel happy and wanted. To stock the house, and cool for you, and spend money on you, and call your friend and surprised you so that you can cheer up. I know you don’t care for grand gestures and you never ask this of me, but i like to do it and telling myself to *stop* doing it will make me feel dead inside. It’s unfair to put that standard on you and tbh I don’t want that, but I love feeling loved. Talk to me and validate me and make me feel like your present in my life.

I know this is all sounding one sided but you have done a LOT for me through out the years too. I think I’m less mean and crazy with you now than I used to be. You’ve exerted a lot of patience and leniency with me, especially though high school but also after college. Like when we travel and I used to go crazy planning, you bear with me. I remember I used to make you read my long ass college essays even though your probably didn’t fucking want to. You giving me meaningful gifts that you thought I would appreciate. You’ve tried your best to keep up with me— to give me my space when thats what I asked for, to be understanding when that’s what I needed, to put up with my childish, demanding, anal ways. Those qualities haven’t gone unnoticed by me.

I also know that you’ve grown up more and are more aware of my emotions. I know you’re not clingy to the point that you’ll be extremely upset if I’m busy. You take my feelings seriously, and when you point our flaws in me I also try to take them seriously and improve them. Ive come to terms with knowing there won’t be a lot of interactions with you, but at least they can be memorable when they do take place. But that has to be mutual. You’re depending on me more now because of the Eric situation which is fine but I’m hesitant to let myself be fully vulnerable. youll get back to your med school life, and eventually find a boyfriend and it’ll be back to being distant. It’s not ideal, but that’s life. You won’t really need me or pull at me. We’re adults so it manageable but it’s not such a pleasant feeling. I guess I am afraid of feeling used and then being left to tend to myself up until when you need me again

I won’t have any crazy expectations. I don’t want to burden you with all this, just want to communicate my feelings because sometimes it easier for me to clam up. I was thinking maybe I need to start asking you the questions that I would like for you to ask me. That way you can get an idea of the things that I like to talk about along with what we already discuss. I don’t want to keep repeating, to you, that maybe you’re not talking to me the way I would like. It makes you feel like there’s something wrong with how you’re communicating to me, rather than how I prefer things. And it’s always better to show, than tell.

Part 2:

I read my letter to her on the phone and she listened and agreed. I don’t know if I told you, maybe I mentioned it briefly, there was a period in hs after parker and I broke up, that I went mia for a week. Jen and I have been talking obsessively at that point so for me to just black out, and leave her in the dark like that took a huge toll on her. She realized that ‘I’m my own person, and I have a life without her’ so in college she tried to become more independent, to the point that she shut me out. I felt really betrayed because we had told ourselves we would still be super close and things wouldn’t change blah blah. But it felt like she knew they were going to change and she kept it to herself. Side note, although I was mia for that week, this was like first semester 12th grade— afterwards we were the “same” still continued to talk everyday, every moment like nothing changed. But her heart had changed and she never really let me knew how badly it impacted her. In college we were separated because she had to study 24/7 to get into med school and I was dealing with the horrors of my own life. In her spring semester of junior year, we had a huge fight where I told her that she’s always unavailable and hasn’t been a good friend. Things changed a little after that, we started talking more regularly but still sparse. I don’t have a lot of memories of us from that period, but I did hold a lot of pain. As college ended for her, she broke up with her toxic ex and started talking to me more. Not obsessively, but much more than we used to and in the manner a best friend would like calling me at 2am bc she’s sad and can’t sleep and staying on the phone with me all night even tho I had work the next day. I did that because I knew she was hurting, and I was in a better place, and I liked that she was depending on me again.

The next year was her off year and I moved back to nyc from Boston so we spent that entire year together and it was one of my favorites. We finally got to spend the time and do the things we wanted to do together since college. Went out to eat, explored new places, but it wasn’t perfect bc we couldn’t go clubbing since she was still scared of her parents. There were issues during this period tho, where she made me feel like shit- I couldn’t come over to her house bc I wasn’t in school therefore she had nothing good to say about me to her parents. It was hurtful. When she left for med school I had become clingy again and felt her absence deeply- instead of being bitter like I was in college I decide to outsource. I became close to Caitlin and we started doing all the crazy things Jen wasn’t able to do. Like staying out until 5am, doing coke, binge drinking. I was always angry at Jen in the back of my mind for not being there for me, but rationally knew that neither of us had a choice. After a year or so, my husband moved to SF, Caitlin started becoming crazy and super unreliable, and jen was busier than ever bc of school and *also* whenever she would come to visit nyc, her bf only made her hangout with him. We WOULD talk but it felt so casual that it drained me. I hated it, I felt so empty from it. I know some people would say that at least there was contact/effort there but it wasn’t enough for me. I was working and in school full time and it was hard bc I felt I couldn’t depend on anyone.

Eventually Ivan came into my life and it was a whirlwind. It consumed me, I was so fucking happy. Too happy— I started (unintentionally) talking to jen less and less bc I was so overwhelmed. She told me last night there were long stretches of me and her not talking, up to an entire month at one point. I honestly can’t even recall that. All I rmmbr is Ivan. She felt betrayed again and it triggered that similar pain from hs. Became emotionally distant, but then once she and Eric broke up, she propelled into my arms yet again and started depending on me emotionally. It sucked for me bc yeah I’m here for her but it felt she only reached out when she needed ME but I can’t reach her when I need her. Because I have to just be okay with the fact that there will be times when shes unavailable but it’s unacceptable if I’m too busy.

In my letter I basically told her I don’t feel cared for when we talk bc she’s not vulnerable with me which makes me feel not valued. As a friend, she’s great but as a bffl she’s not cutting it. I also said that she’s going to leave for residency and I don’t trust that we won’t be distant again, so I don’t want to fully invest myself. She told me my feelings are valid and that she’s been holding onto that pain from hs for a long time subconsciously and it’s affected her actions towards me. She essentially told me she doesn’t trust me bc she has a fear that I can leave at any moment and so won’t allow herself to be that vulnerable and clingy with me. I thought about that- and I agree it has been unfair to her. Just because I’m obsessive and crazy doesn’t mean I have the right to cut her off bc I feel like she’s not there enough. As an adult I have to understand that. To just drop off all communication like that, of course it’s going to have an effect. She agreed that we should have talked about the hs thing 10 fucking years ago instead of now. I think ultimately it would have been the same— I would have always felt bitterly jealous that she’s away busy doing stuff with other people. For me, there is no amount of talking or texting we could do that would replace an in person relationship. And sadly, there’s no way to sustain the relationship we had in hs. For her, it’s physically not possible and for me it’s not emotionally a good idea. Im very 0 to a 100 and that’s not how adults should be. She told me that it would probably be a good idea for me stay guarded and not extremely clingy as she goes off to her residency because we would be distant. I feel better talking to her and getting every thing off my chest esp bc I got to hear her side. I understand now why she acts the way she does, which makes me not harbor negative feelings for her.

A sentence meme of my favorite Halsey lyrics

From all her songs/albums. I love Halsey so freaking much. So I’m gonna make another Halsey meme. Also, I realize that her new album has less quotes than the others, but I haven’t listened to it as much yet! Cut for length because it’s long. 

“Throw me in the deep end, watch me drown.”

“ I'm helpless, clinging to a little bit of spine.”

“Viral mess turned dreams into an empire.“

“Survival of the richest, the city's ours until the fall.”

“They're Monaco and Hamptons bound, but we don't feel like outsiders at all.“

“What kind of dough have you been spending?“

“What kind of bubblegum have you been blowing lately?“

“All we do is think about the feelings that we hide.”

“And California never felt like home to me until I had you on the open road.”

“Your laugh echoes down the highway carves into my hollow chest, spreads over the emptiness. It’s bliss.”

“Would it really kill you if we kissed?“

“And there's a storm you're starting now.”

“I'm a wanderess.”

“Don't belong to no city. Don't belong to no man.”

“I'm the violence in the pouring rain. I’m a hurricane.”

“I found myself reminded to keep you far away from me.”

“Didn't know where we were running to. But don't look back.”

“Feet first, don't fall. We'll be running again.”

“I'm searching for something that I can't reach...“

“I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies.”

“And I swear "I hate you" when you leave.”

“My ghost, where’d you go?”

“I can't find you in the body sleeping next to me.”

“What happened to the soul that you used to be?“

“I love him but I know I'm gonna leave him...”

“You're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope.”

“You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece.”

“I'm covered in the colors, Pulled apart at the seams.”

“And now he's so devoid of color. He don't know what it means.”

“I know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you.”

“You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue. You touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky. And you decided purple just wasn't for you.”

“Everybody wants to know if we fucked on the bathroom sink.”

“We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night But the ending is the same every damn time.”

“They think I'm insane, they think my lover is strange.”

“But I don't have to fucking tell them anything.”

“I don't have to fucking tell you anything.”

“That's the beauty of a secret. You know you're supposed to keep it.”

“They know you walk like you're a God, they can't believe I made you weak.”

“These days I can't seem to make this right. Well, is this fine? Will it be alright?”

“When his hair falls in his face, And his hands so cold they shake.”

“Now we're lost somewhere in outer space. In a hotel room where demons play.”

“I've got a lover. A love like religion.”

“I'm such a fool for sacrifice.”

“I'm such a fool to pay this price.”

“I found the savior. I don't think he remembers. 'Cause he's off to pay his crimes. And he's got no time for mine.”

“Every single night pray the sun'll rise.”

“I was as pure as a river, But now I think I'm possessed.”

“I’ve been cold since you left.”

“You've got a fire inside but your heart's so cold.”

“'Cause I've done some things that I can't speak of.”

“I've tried to wash you away but you just won't leave.”

“I came here so you'd come for me.”

“I'm begging you to keep on haunting me.”

“You weren't looking for me.”

“Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me?“

“Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?“

“You can't wake up, this is not a dream.”

“You're part of a machine, you are not a human being.”

“ Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline."

“Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold.”

“Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?“

“I sat alone, in bed 'til the morning.”

“My mind's like a deadly disease.”

“I'm bigger than my body. I'm colder than this home.”

“I'm meaner than my demons. I'm bigger than these bones.”

“Goddamn right, you should be scared of me.”

“I couldn't stand the person inside me. I turned all the mirrors around.”

 "Oh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends.”

“ I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight." 

“You know the two of us are just young gods.”

“I'm the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon.”

"If you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight."

“You told me this is right where it begins.”

“I promised myself I wouldn't let you complete me.”

“ you clutched my brain and eased my ailing.”

“And I try to refrain, but you're stuck in my brain.”

“And all I do is cry and complain because second's not the same.”

“I'm sorry, but I fell in love tonight.“

“Feel like we've been falling down like these autumn leaves.”

“We're the underdogs in this world alone.”

“I'm a believer, got a fever running through my bones.”

“They can break our hearts, they won't take our souls.”

“Would you bleed for me?“

“I bet you kiss your knuckles right before they touch my cheek.”

“But I've got my mind, made up this time.“

“Cause there's a menace in my bed. Can you see his silhouette?”

“Set a fire in my head, tonight.“

“Would you lie for me? Cross your sorry heart and hope to die for me?“

“Don't forget me, don't forget me.”

“I wouldn't leave you if you'd let me.“

"one day I'd realize why I don't have any friends" 

“ I don't let him touch me anymore.”

“Cause I have spent too many nights on dirty bathroom floors to find some peace and quiet right behind a wooden door."

"please don't go away" 

"it's too late" 

“ I can't stop thinking that I almost gave you everything.”

“And now the whole thing's finished and I can't stop wishing that I never gave you anything.”

“Now I'm constantly reminded of the time I was 19.”

“Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you.”

“Would've gave it all for you, cared for you. So tell me where I went wrong.”

“But you've been replaced. I'm face to face with someone new.”

“Can you hear my heartbeat fucking kickin'?“

“And you thought that you were the boss tonight. But I can put up one good fight.”

“Don't you see what you're finding? This is Heaven in hiding.”

“Said this ain't what you usually do, and a girl like me is new for you. And I can tell you mean it cause you're shakin'.”

“'Cause I'm Heaven in hiding.”

“'Cause I can sometimes treat the people that I love like jewelry.”

“Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really starts to fall in love with me.”

“Didn't mean to leave you and all of the things that we had behind.”

“Someone will love you but someone isn't me.”

“ I believe that we're meant to be.”

“Look, I don't mean to frustrate, but I always make the same mistakes.”

“I'm bad at love, but you can't blame me for tryin'.”

“You know I'd be lyin' sayin' you were the one that could finally fix me.”

“But I never got the chance to make her mine, because she fell in love with little thin white lines.”

“But I always think about it when I'm riding through.”

“I know that you're afraid I'm gonna walk away each time the feeling fades.”

“She doesn't look me in the eyes anymore, too scared of what she'll see, somebody holding me.”

“When I wake up all alone and I'm thinking of your skin.”

“She doesn't call me on the phone anymore.”

“She's never listening, she says it's innocent.”

“I must've crossed a line, I must've lost my mind.”

“I miss the mornings with you laying in my bed.”

“I miss the memories replaying in my head.”

“ I hide and cower in the corner, conversation's getting hard.”

“And I'm faded away, you know, I used to be on fire.”

“I'm standin' in the ashes of who I used to be.”

“Now it's my own anxiety that makes the conversation hard.”

“You said I should eat my feelings, head held high.”

“I won't take anyone down if I crawl tonight.”

“And I went tumbling down trying to reach your high.”

“But I scream too loud if I speak my mind.”

“I don't wanna wake it up, the devil in me.”

“Gotta wake up, come back to life.”

“You said I'm too much to handle.”

You said I shine too bright, I burnt the candle. Flew too high.”

So I’ve just read all of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown , and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Every word the characters speak seems to have meaning, and it’s very easy to realize the author has been planning the story for a long time. I urge everyone to check it out!

Because I’m trash, I’ve written some fanfiction. Because of course I have. It’s awful, please dont’ judge the webcomic on it!

@velocesmells I hope it’s not too terrible? It’s supposed to be an AU so I’m justifying how OOC they are in this with that O.O

There’s never anyone that eats with Lillium, but he makes a second plate anyways. You know, just in case.

…

Lillium’s place is dark.

Iris glances at it as he walks down the city streets, his bag slung over his shoulder, and furrows his brow slightly, biting his lower lip. Usually, the guy’s up and running by this time of the day, no matter how late it may be, the kitchen lights turned on until Iris can barely guess if it’s night or day. He doesn’t even have his obnoxious hipster music blasting from the house, which would be a welcome relief, if it weren’t so utterly bizarre.

Iris hesitates. He should be getting to centre soon, there’s a curfew he’s supposed to make on weekdays, regardless of how much he complains about it. It’s just… Lillium doesn’t do quiet evenings in the house. He spends the whole day working his arse off, switching from shitty job to shittier job, so he can come back to the house and cook the whole night, bragging about his omelette magic. Iris has scolded him about it enough times not to know that.

With the hollow, dull feeling in his chest from being perfectly aware that he’s going to regret this, Iris turns and marches up to the battered old house in the worst part of the neighbourhood, his footsteps echoing in the narrow alley. He makes a face at the stench, but powers on through.

There’s not much to Lillium’s that constitutes as a proper house; he’s being nice by not calling it a shack. It’s only one storey, of course (as if the guy could afford anything more than that), and it’s been sitting there, in between two tall apartment buildings, since the beginning of time, dwarfed by the growing urbanization of the landscape around it. Iris has told Lillium a thousand times that it seems more like an abandoned  cabin in a horror movie than anything, given the way the wooden walls are slowly rotting, the random spurts of paint on the walls without any order to them.

Iris fumbles to open the door with his key, swearing when he accidentally pokes his finger, and pushes it open without much trouble. He steps into the kitchen, glancing around for any sign of Lillium.

The place only has three rooms: the bathroom, a bedroom, and the kitchen. The bathroom is pretty terrible, which explains why Iris makes sure he’s done his business back at the centre before coming here, and the bedroom has been offered to him so many times (eyes twinkling, a smirk curling Lillium’s lips) that it’s become unthinkable to even go in. It’s not surprising that it’s the kitchen that’s the heart of the house (Lillium lives here), but he has to admit that it’s gotten pretty nice over the years, as more money has come in. Most of the appliances are decent, and it’s always kept pristine when Lillium’s not cooking, although all bets are off the moment he cracks some eggs. He’s also got all of his pictures and stuff there; his books cluttering the shaky shelves, dozens of volumes filled with recipes, his stupid teddy bear reclined against the wall. It makes it seem extremely more personal than his own room, much more intimate.

“Iris?” the familiar voice startles him, and he turns around towards where it’s coming from, tightening his grip on his bag. Lillium’s standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screams ‘unsure’ rather than ‘defensive’, slightly hunched over. He’s frowning. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a curfew?”

“I…,” Iris swallows, before lifting his chin, determined, “Oh, shush, White, leave it alone. Why aren’t you cooking? Did you finally realize everything you make tastes like ash sprinkled with ketchup?”

Lillium doesn’t laugh.

Iris’s heartbeat is faster than it should be. They’re just talking, after all. It’s just… Lillium isn’t smiling, joking around, or teasing him. He’s not even even offering him food, for Christ’s sake. Iris bites his lip again, lowering his gaze.

“You should go back to the centre,” Lillium murmurs, facing away from him. His bleached roots are starting to show amidst all the pink. His voice sounds forcibly light when he adds, “I know you want to be a bad boy and all, but don’t be stupid.”

Something’s wrong.

Iris looks down at the kitchen table. There’s some papers piled up on top of it, smudges of dirt on the corners of them from carrying them around with greasy fingers; besides that, his #1 Chef cup is resting on the table, half-empty. He narrows his eyes…

His apron is missing. In fact, it wasn’t at the rusty hanger Lillium uses to put all his coats up in the corridor. Where’s his apron from the café?

“You got fired,” he realizes, feeling a bit dumb for not noticing earlier, and watches his friend’s shoulders go down. “The café place you liked.”

“10 points for Gryffindor,” Lillium sighs, finally meeting his eyes again, a self-deprecating smile  on his lips. “Guess it wasn’t just meant to be, eh? Alas, they probably knew that, deep in my heart, I belong to you.”

Lillium used to tell him about the café. He was so excited when he got the job, prancing around the house and making Iris stand up to have a ‘happy dance’ in celebration of the first time he actually worked at a place near food. “Just you wait,” he told him, in a sing-song. “Soon I’ll be in the kitchens instead of wiping tables.”

Iris isn’t good at comforting people. Hell, he’s not even good at being around people, the centre’s made sure of that. Mostly he just broods around Lillium and the guy feeds him, takes him out to the park and puts flowers in his hair, snapping pictures of an old Nokia that smells like cat piss. They’re friends because Lillium likes him, not because he’s actually made any effort to keep in touch.

It’s… it’s strange, that his heart shrinks when he thinks of how Lillium’s incandescent smile must have faded today, in front of his boss. It pulls at his insides, the thought of him very quietly leaving through the back instead of spending the day at work.

Iris swallows hard, fidgeting, and chokes out, “Could I get an omelette?”

Lillium raises his eyebrows, “You’re actually asking me for an omelette? Have I died and gone to Heaven?” His eyes twinkle, “Are you my angel?”

Please never die, he thinks, with a terrifying sense of alarm, please.

He’s bad with people, yeah, but Lillium always makes it so that he never has to try. He’s rude and pushes him around, gives him stuff he’s too embarrassed to ask for, and doesn’t care at all that he’s dating both of the twins at the centre at the same time. Lillium’s kind of an older brother, in that way, except he’s constantly offering sex.

“It’s just not right, seeing you mope around like this,” Iris mutters, pursing his lips, “You’re supposed to be cooking or something, you weirdo. And don’t make any angel jokes, those are just old.”

Lillium pouts, taking a step closer to him, “Oh, honeybun.”

“Honeybun,” Iris repeats, faintly amused despite himself. “You do know there are knives in the kitchen, right?”

It takes a little while, but Lillium gives in, pushes Iris aside (“This omelette is supposed to taste good, Iris, shoo.”), and turns on the lights before starting to cook. The smell of bacon slowly being fried  fills the room, and Iris sits down on the chair, letting his bag fall to the floor with a soft thump. He takes his sketchbook out, shoving the papers on the table away and starting to draw absently, wrinkling his nose at his sloppy sketch. Meh, it’s late, anyway.

After some time, the sound of a plate being set on the table startle him, making him look up. The omelette smells heavenly, and it’s a rich, warm colour; between gold and a murky brown from the mushrooms.

“Here you go, my lord,” Lillium sighs, sitting across from him and holding his head up with his bandaged hands, smiling softly. “Enjoy.”

Wordlessly, Iris glares, fuming, and divides the omelette in two.

Lillium raises his eyebrows.

“We’re supposed to share, idiot,” Iris mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat. “I won’t be the only one eating here.”

“Ooh,” he smirks, “Is this a date, perhaps?”

“I’m leaving - “

“Aw, c’mon, c’mon, stay,” Lillium whines, holding out one of his hands to grab his wrist as he tries to rise from his seat, flushing furiously.

He sits back down, breath coming out in small huffs, “...You’ll get another job, Lillium, okay? Soon you can be the #1 Chef and Begonia will throw a party or something.”

Lillium sticks a forkful of omelette in his mouth, chewing for a moment before answering, “It’s not kind to lie to people who care about you.”

Iris looks at him, slightly annoyed, “I’m not a liar. You won’t be winning any beauty competitions, Mr. White, but you can cook, alright? Stop being all emo, it’s creeping me out.”

“Says the ultimate emo,” Lillium bites back, but his smile seems a little more honest.

“Have you seen your clothes?”

“Have you seen your hair?”

Lillium snorts, “Rude, my hair is fabulous.”

It’s getting late; so much that he’s guaranteed a scolding from the people at the centre, if not being grounded for this weekend. He should really, really go, before they get truly mad and take his sketchbook away. Living alone is much lonelier without his sketchbook.

But, after a short while, when there’s only small bites of the omelette on the plate and Iris has already given up trying to finish it, Lillium’s hand settles over his hesitantly, trembling a little. He says, “Thank you.”

Iris stays.

…

They end up in the bedroom; and it’s one of the few times Iris has ever been inside the place. Despite the fact that Lillium’s lived alone ever since he met him, he’s still got a double bed “for overnight visitors”, or that’s what he claims.

Lillium rests his back against the headboard, and Iris lies down next to him, leaning his head on his shoulder and looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t protest when Lillium links their hands together, or when he gently nudges closer to him, in a move so terribly unsubtle and telling that it’s almost cute that he seems so nervous.

It’s weird, knowing that Lillium wants him there. Iris can barely manage to cover up his scars with his clothes, he’s a mess in school in almost every subject, he’s dry and sarcastic with people he doesn’t know very well and he’s a guy who likes other guys, possibly at the same time. At first, he thought maybe Lillium wanted to have hook up with him, but, even though the guy can’t have five minutes without an innuendo, he’s never made any move to touch him in a way that’s not reassuring or affectionate, instead of sexual.

“You’re going to regret this so much tomorrow,” Lillium whispers into his hair, his voice giddy. “But I’m milking it.”

Iris sighs dramatically, mock-offended, and moves his head up to kiss his cheek, so quickly he’s not quite sure he’s actually done it. Next to him, Lillium freezes.

“Now, I’m dead,”  he murmurs, and the touch of his lips against his scalp makes him shiver.

“Shut up,” Iris pokes him in the shoulder. “I’m the one who’s going to die when I get back to the fostering centre. If I’m not out in three days, you’ll know I’m not coming back.”

“I’ll have an omelette made in honour of your death,” Lillium teases, and Iris shuts his eyes.

Fin.

PUDDLEGLUM

JILL was asleep. Ever since the owls' parliament began she had been yawning terribly and now she had dropped off. She was not at all pleased at being waked again, and at finding herself lying on bare boards in a dusty belfry sort of place, completely dark, and almost completely full of owls. She was even less pleased when she heard that they had to set off for somewhere else - and not, apparently, for bed - on the Owl's back. "Oh, come on, Pole, buck up," said Scrubb's voice. "After all, it is an adventure." "I'm sick of adventures," said Jill crossly. She did, however, consent to climb on to Glimfeather's back, and was thoroughly waked up (for a while) by the unexpected coldness of the air when he flew out with her into the night. The moon had disappeared and there were no stars. Far behind her she could see a single lighted window well above the ground; doubtless, in one of the towers of Cair Paravel. It made her long to be back in that delightful bedroom, snug in bed, watching the firelight on the walls. She put her hands under her cloak and wrapped it tightly round her. It was uncanny to hear two voices in the dark air a little distance away; Scrubb and his owl were talking to one another. "He doesn't sound tired," thought Jill. She did not realize that he had been on great adventures in that world before and that the Narnian air was bringing back to him a strength he had won when he sailed the Eastern Seas with King Caspian. Jill had to pinch herself to keep awake, for she knew that if she dozed on Glimfeather's back she would probably fall off. When at last the two owls ended their flight, she climbed stiffly off Glimfeather and found herself on flat ground. A chilly wind was blowing and they appeared to be in a place without trees. "Tu-whoo, tu-whoo!" Glimfeather was calling. "Wake up, Puddleglum. Wake up. It is on the Lion's business." For a long time there was no reply. Then, a long way off, a dim light appeared and began to come nearer. With it came a voice. "Owls ahoy!" it said. "What is it? Is the King dead? Has an enemy landed in Narnia? Is it a flood? Or dragons?" When the light reached them, it turned out to be that of a large lantern. She could see very little of the person who held it. He seemed to be all legs and arms. The owls were talking to him, explaining everything, but she was too tired to listen. She tried to wake herself up a bit when she realized that they were saying goodbye to her. But she could never afterwards remember much except that, sooner or later, she and Scrubb were stooping to enter a low doorway and then (oh, thank heavens) were lying down on something soft and warm, and a voice was saying: "There you are. Best we can do. You'll lie cold and hard. Damp too, I shouldn't wonder. Won't sleep a wink, most likely; even if there isn't a thunderstorm or a flood or the wigwam doesn't fall down on top of us all, as I've known them do. Must make the best of it - " But she was fast asleep before the voice had ended. When the children woke late next morning they found that they were lying, very dry and warm, on beds of straw in a dark place. A triangular opening let in the daylight. "Where on earth are we?" asked Jill. "In the wigwam of a Marsh-wiggle," said Eustace. "A what?" "A Marsh-wiggle. Don't ask me what it is. I couldn't see it last night. I'm getting up. Let's go and look for it." "How beastly one feels after sleeping in one's clothes," said Jill, sitting up. "I was just thinking how nice it was not to have to dress," said Eustace. "Or wash either, I suppose," said Jill scornfully. But Scrubb had already got up, yawned, shaken himself, and crawled out of the wigwam. Jill did the same. What they found outside was quite unlike the bit of Narnia they had seen on the day before. They were on a great flat plain which was cut into countless little islands by countless channels of water. The islands were covered with coarse grass and bordered with reeds and rushes. Sometimes there were beds of rushes about an acre in extent. Clouds of birds were constantly alighting in them and rising from them again-duck, snipe, bitterns, herons. Many wigwams like that in which they had passed the night could be seen dotted about, but all at a good distance from one another; for Marsh-wiggles are people who like privacy. Except for the fringe of the forest several miles to the south and west of them, there was not a tree in sight. Eastward the flat marsh stretched to low sand-hills on the horizon, and you could tell by the salt tang in the wind which blew from that direction that the sea lay over there. To the North there were low pale-coloured hills, in places bastioned with rock. The rest was all flat marsh. It would have been a depressing place on a w et evening. Seen under a morning sun, with a fresh wind blowing, and the air filled with the crying of birds, there was something fine and fresh and clean about its loneliness. The children felt their spirits rise. "Where has the thingummy got to, I wonder?" said Jill. "The Marsh-wiggle," said Scrubb, as if he were rather proud of knowing the word. "I expect-hullo, that must be him." And then they both saw him, sitting with his back to them, fishing, about fifty yards away. He had been hard to see at first because he was nearly the same colour as the marsh and because he sat so still. "I suppose we'd better go and speak to him," said Jill. Scrubb nodded. They both felt a little nervous. As they drew nearer, the figure turned its head and showed them a long thin face with rather sunken cheeks, a tightly shut mouth, a sharp nose, and no beard. He was wearing a high, pointed hat like a steeple, with an enormously wide flat brim. The hair, if it could be called hair, which hung over his large ears was greeny-grey, and each lock was flat rather than round, so that they were like tiny reeds. His expression was solemn, his complexion muddy, and you could see at once that he took a serious view of life. "Good morning, Guests," he said. "Though when I say good I don't mean it won't probably turn to rain or it might he snow, or fog, or thunder. You didn't get any sleep, I dare say. "Yes we did, though," said Jill. "We had a lovely night." "Ah," said the Marsh-wiggle, shaking his head. "I see you're making the best of a bad job. That's right. You've been well brought up, you have. You've learned to put a good face on things." "Please, we don't know your name," said Scrubb. "Puddleglum's my name. But it doesn't matter if you forget it. I can always tell you again." The children sat down on each side of him. They now saw that he had very long legs and arms, so that although his body was not much bigger than a dwarf's, he would be taller than most men when he stood up. The fingers of his hands were webbed like a frog's, and so were his bare feet which dangled in the muddy water. He was dressed in earthcoloured clothes that hung loose about him. "I'm trying to catch a few eels to make an eel stew for our dinner," said Puddleglum. "Though I shouldn't wonder if I didn't get any. And you won't like them much if I do." "Why not?" asked Scrubb. "Why, it's not in reason that you should like our sort of victuals, though I've no doubt you'll put a bold face on it. All the same, while I am a catching of them, if you two could try to light the fire - no harm trying - ! The wood's behind the wigwam. It may be wet. You could light it inside the wigwam, and then we'd get all the smoke in our eyes. Or you could light it outside, and then the rain would come and put it out. Here's my tinder-box. You won't know how to use it, I expect." But Scrubb had learned that sort of thing on his last adventure. The children ran back together to the wigwam, found the wood (which was perfectly dry) and succeeded in lighting a fire with rather less than the usual difficulty. Then Scrubb sat and took care of it while Jill went and had some sort of wash - not a very nice one - in the nearest channel. After that she saw to the fire and he had a wash. Both felt a good deal fresher, but very hungry. Presently the Marsh-wiggle joined them. In spite of his expectation of catching no eels, he had a dozen or so, which he had already skinned and cleaned. He put a big pot on, mended the fire, and lit his pipe. Marsh-wiggles smoke a very strange, heavy sort of tobacco (some people say they mix it with mud) and the children noticed the smoke from Puddleglum's pipe hardly rose in the air at all. It trickled out of the bowl and downwards and drifted along the ground like a mist. It was very black and set Scrubb coughing. "Now," said Puddleglum. "Those eels will take a mortal long time to cook, and either of you might faint with hunger before they're done. I knew a little girl - but I'd better not tell you that story. It might lower your spirits, and that's a thing I never do. So, to keep your minds off your hunger, we may as well talk about our plans." "Yes, do let's," said Jill. "Can you help us to find Prince Rilian?" The Marsh-wiggle sucked in his cheeks till they were hollower than you would have thought possible. "Well, I don't know that you'd call it help," he said. "I don't know that anyone can exactly help. It stands to reason we're not likely to get very far on a journey to the North, not at this time of the year, with the winter coming on soon and all. And an early winter too, by the look of things. But you mustn't let that make you down-hearted. Very likely, what with enemies, and mountains, and rivers to cross, and losing our way, and next to nothing to eat, and sore feet, we'll hardly notice the weather. And if we don't get far enough to do any good, we may get far enough not to get back in a hurry." Both children noticed that he said "we", not "you", and both exclaimed at the same moment. "Are you coming with us?" "Oh yes, I'm coming of course. Might as well, you see. I don't suppose we shall ever see the King back in Narnia, now that he's once set off for foreign parts; and he had a nasty cough when he left. Then there's Trumpkin. He's failing fast. And you'll find there'll have been a bad harvest after this terrible dry summer. And I shouldn't wonder if some enemy attacked us. Mark my words." "And how shall we start?" said Scrubb. "Well," said the Marsh-wiggle very slowly, "all the others who ever went looking for Prince Rilian started from that same fountain where the Lord Drinian saw the lady. They went north, mostly. And as none of them ever came back, we can't exactly say how they got on." "We've got to start by finding a ruined city of giants," said Jill. "Aslan said so." "Got to start by finding it, have we?" answered Puddleglum. "Not allowed to start by looking for it, I suppose?" "That's what I meant, of course," said Jill. "And then, when we've found it-" "Yes, when!" said Puddleglum very drily. "Doesn't anyone know where it is?" asked Scrubb. "I don't know about Anyone," said Puddleglum. "And I won't say I haven't heard of that Ruined City. You wouldn't start from the fountain, though. You'd have to go across Ettinsmoor. That's where the Ruined City is, if it's anywhere. But I've been as far in that direction as most people and I never got to any ruins, so I won't deceive you." "Where's Ettinsmoor?" said Scrubb. "Look over there northward," said Puddleglum, pointing with his pipe. "See those hills and bits of cliff? That's the beginning of Ettinsmoor. But there's a river between it and us; the river Shribble. No bridges, of course." "I suppose we can ford it, though," said Scrubb. "Well, it has been forded," admitted the Marsh-wiggle. "Perhaps we shall meet people on Ettinsmoor who can tell us the way," said Jill. "You're right about meeting people," said Puddleglum. "What sort of people live there?" she asked. "It's not for me to say they aren't all right in their own way," answered Puddleglum. "If you like their way." "Yes, but what are they?" pressed Jill. "There are so many queer creatures in this country. I mean, are they animals, or birds, or dwarfs, or what?" The Marsh-wiggle gave a long whistle. "Phew!" he said. "Don't you know? I thought the owls had told you. They're giants." Jill winced. She had never liked giants even in books, and she had once met one in a nightmare. Then she saw Scrubb's face, which had turned rather green, and thought to herself, "I bet he's in a worse funk than I am." That made her feel braver. "The King told me long ago," said Scrubb - "that time when I was with him at sea-that he'd jolly well beaten those giants in war and made them pay him tribute." "That's true enough," said Puddleglum. "They're at peace with us all right. As long as we stay on our own side of the Shribble, they won't do us any harm. Over on their side, on the Moor - Still, there's always a chance. If we don't get near any of them, and if none of them forget themselves, and if we're not seen, it's just possible we might get a long way." "Look here!" said Scrubb, suddenly losing his temper, as people so easily do when they have been frightened. "I don't believe the whole thing can be half as bad as you're making out; any more than the beds in the wigwam were hard or the wood was wet. I don't think Aslan would ever have sent us if there was so little chance as all that." He quite expected the Marsh-wiggle to give him an angry reply, but he only said, "That's the spirit, Scrubb. That's the way to talk. Put a good face on it. But we all need to be very careful about our tempers, seeing all the hard times we shall have to go through together. Won't do to quarrel, you know. At any rate, don't begin it too soon. I know these expeditions usually end that way: knifing one another, I shouldn't wonder, before all's done. But the longer we can keep off it-" "Well, if you feel it's so hopeless," interrupted Scrubb, "I think you'd better stay behind. Pole and I can go on alone, can't we, Pole?" "Shut up and don't be an ass, Scrubb," said Jill hastily, terrified lest the Marsh-wiggle should take him at his word. "Don't you lose heart, Pole," said Puddleglum. "I'm coming, sure and certain. I'm not going to lose an opportunity like this. It will do me good. They all say - I mean, the other wiggles all say-that I'm too flighty; don't take life seriously enough. If they've said it once, they've said it a thousand times. 'Puddleglum,' they've said, `you're altogether too full of bobance and bounce and high spirits. You've got to learn that life isn't all fricasseed frogs and eel pie. You want something to sober you down a bit. We're only saying it for your own good, Puddleglum.' That's what they say. Now a job like this - a journey up north just as winter's beginning, looking for a Prince that probably isn't there, by way of a ruined city that no one has ever seen - will be just the thing. If that doesn't steady a chap, I don't know what will." And he rubbed his big frog-like hands together as if he were talking of going to a party or a pantomime. "And now," he added, "let's see how those eels are getting on." When the meal came it was delicious and the children had two large helpings each. At first the Marsh-wiggle wouldn't believe that they really liked it, and when they had eaten so much that he had to believe them, he fell back on saying that it would probably disagree with them horribly. "What's food for wiggles may be poison for humans, I shouldn't wonder," he said. After the meal they had tea, in tins (as you've seen men having it who are working on the road), and Puddleglum had a good many sips out of a square black bottle. He offered the children some of it, but they thought it very nasty. The rest of the day was spent in preparations for an early start tomorrow morning. Puddleglum, being far the biggest, said he would carry three blankets, with a large bit of bacon rolled up inside them. Jill was to carry the remains of the eels, some biscuit, and the tinder-box. Scrubb was to carry both his own cloak and Jill's when they didn't want to wear them. Scrubb (who had learned some shooting when he sailed to the East under Caspian) had Puddleglum's secondbest bow, and Puddleglum had his best one; though he said that what with winds, and damp bowstrings, and bad light, and cold fingers, it was a hundred to one against either of them hitting anything. He and Scrubb both had swords Scrubb had brought the one which had been left out for him in his room at Cair Paravel, but Jill had to be content with her knife. There would have been a quarrel about this, but as soon as they started sparring the wiggle rubbed his hands and said, "Ah, there you are. I thought as much. That's what usually happens on adventures." This made them both shut up. All three went to bed early in the wigwam. This time the children really had a rather bad night. That was because Puddleglum, after saying, "You'd better try for some sleep, you two; not that I suppose any of us will close an eye tonight," instantly went off into such a loud, continuous snore that, when Jill at last got to sleep, she dreamed all night about road-drills and waterfalls and being in express trains in tunnels.

Caramel Skin Under a Vanilla Sky prt 39 full draft

Lance wasn't doing ok. Physically he was getting better, but as the infection in his chest cleared around the two and a half movements mark since the crash and now surgery loomed around the corner. The procedure wouldn't be performed on the Atlas, but instead on New Altea. Lance didn't want to leave so many things unanswered. He didn't want to be pushed aside and disregarded, which was exactly what felt like was happening. Keith was his main line with the outside world. Shiro dropped by from time to time, sometimes Curtis was with him and sometimes he was. Hunk had come by twice but was acting distant, unable to meet his eyes despite the fact he'd nearly crushed him in a hug as he cried his eyes out over being so worried about him. Shay had shyly come to enquire about his health and wish him well. Krolia had thanked him for his service and thanked him for getting Keith back home in one piece. Even Zak had ventured up to tell him he was an "idiot", but "an idiot that had done a good job". He knew Acxa and Keith's team had come by when he'd been napping, catching the tail end of the four of them talking outside the door... So he didn't know why he felt so hollow inside. Actually. He did. His fight with Veronica. His sister angered that he'd taken such measures without thinking of their family, and without consulting her about it. He couldn't admit the truth of what happened with Klearo to her. He couldn't admit that he'd fucked up from the very beginning then was tricked by someone who he looked up to. Veronica had basically insinuated that he was a burden, who didn't know what he was doing and should have stayed on Earth. She didn't get it. She didn't get to him that being a "burden" was his greatest fear. She didn't get that his drug and alcohol abuse had steadily grown worse, or understand the way he wrecked their family with his mere presence. Keith tried his hardest to help him through his moods and panic attacks, but he felt like he was shackling Keith down with his depression. Keith who still treated him like he was the most treasured person in existence. Keith who said they'd work things out... then left things in the air. It wasn't like he wanted to talk to the ship's councillor... but when they didn't come by his room, he had to wonder if Keith wasn't secretly enjoying him being so messed. The disgusting thought left him unable to look his boyfriend's way for vargas, ultimately serving to hurt Keith when he hadn't done anything wrong. Which he wasn't. Shiro's actions had told him that. No. It wasn't fair to blame Shiro. Keith had desperately needed the healing pod, and Lance couldn't be more relieved that his boyfriend had been healed. He just... felt... insignificant. No matter how he sat or laid, some part of his body hurt. He missed eating real food, being stuck on a liquid diet until after the surgery. He missed being able to move around, and shower unaided. Keith had been granted permission to help him shower. Each of the sticky sensor pads had left bruised behind after pealed off his tender skin. He was losing weight again, and losing his drive. He wasn't ok, and was only getting worse as he was kept waiting, unable to feel like he was being punished for getting Keith in harms way, by not being healed. He got that the Atlas couldn't leave it's orbit over the Altean ship while the investigation was on going, but didn't get why Shiro didn't open a wormhole to New Altea so that he could be put in a pod. Being comatose for a phoeb or three sounded ideal when compared to sitting in a very uncomfortable hospital bed, or trapped in his nightmares all night long thanks to the sedatives Daehra had prescribed to help him sleep through his nightly coughing fits. Lance didn't want to take more drugs. The more he craved them, the more he tried to push them away. He knew it was dangerous to fall back into his bad habits, but these new ones were working for him. They weren't filling up that hole in his heart from being unwanted, or easing the guilt he felt from relying on Keith. Quintant after quintant he was left laying there as it blurred together. To him it was like being left that cell all over again. He was constantly waiting to wake up and find himself being dragged out to Klearo's bed. Or to wake up and find himself still in the outpost, with Keith having been stolen away and cut to pieces. He wasn't stupid. He knew there had to be a network of connections when it came to Kre'el. She was just one woman... A woman he wanted answers from. A woman who'd lied to him so seamlessly and easily that the thought of her made him feel physically ill. None of these symptoms were going to clear before he was forced off the Atlas. Shiro probably didn't want him to ever return. He probably didn't want him anywhere near his team, and it didn't matter how illogical the arguments were for why that was so, his anxieties had him wrapped around their little finger. Shiro wouldn't haven't jumped in to help him, had it been him alone. He knew it. Like really knew it. The voice in his head whispered it over and over, never a kind word directed his way. He was his own worst enemy. With each quintant that passed, he was sure he was moving that much closer to insanity... Sure he was slipping away from the most wonderful boyfriend a guy could ask for. He didn't want to tie Keith down with his mental health issues. He didn't want to keep having panic attacks out of nowhere, and dreams he couldn't wake from. He wanted to be strong for Keith, but had no idea where to begin. * With his arms loaded up with bedding from the Telula and a treat from Hunk, Keith was running late. Daehra was on "Lance Duty" for the morning, his panic attacks so bad that Keith didn't want him left alone. He honestly feared for Lance hurting himself without realising he'd done it, or even worse, being caught up in a flashback and lashing out against someone he loved. Neither of them were really happy about Lance being transferred off the Atlas and out to New Altean, without answers. Lance was going through so much and taking him away without giving him answers was cruel as hell. His boyfriend wasn't reacting well to the news, hence why he'd dropped down to the kitchen to see if Hunk had something chocolaty to lift his spirits, then it was down to the Telula to get Lance a nicer blanket than the one on his hospital bed, back up to the kitchen to collect two chocolate milkshakes that looked like everything Lance wasn't supposed to be having. Lance's was packed with extra vitamins and minerals, but Keith had forgotten which one was which. His mind too busy. With Daehra and Lucteal, who was acting like Lance's personal bodyguard and limiting access to Lance's room, he knew he had the time to rustle up his surprise after a quick check up to make sure his ankle was healed properly... only for Shiro to corner him just short of his end goal. The expression his brother wore could only mean trouble... Opening the door to the room beside him, Shiro had planned to ambush him. The conveniently empty room said as much. Taking the milkshakes out of his hands, Shiro placed them down on the desk by the door, before crossing his arms and giving him his best "dad" look "Something you want to tell me?" "Uh? I was grabbing a blanket for Lance..." "Not about that. Well, about Lance, but something a little more pressing" "Not that I can think of..." Keith was confused. Shiro had that calm anger thing going on, like he was ready to snap, or turn on that disappointed tone. Personally Keith would prefer the violence, but knew Shiro would opt for disappointment because it hurt more. Reaching into his pocket, Shiro pulled out a small vial of shimmering red liquid. Keith's shock was written all over his face as he stared at the vial. Daehra wasn't stupid enough to just leave one laying around... and he had no idea how he was about to talk his way out of this. Opening his mouth, he made a weird kind of squeak before getting the words out "How did you get that?" "When Lance kept refusing painkillers, I watched over the camera footage from his room, and what do I see? I see Daehra injecting this into Lance's IV daily. I've had it analysed Keith" This wasn't his secret to be telling... Shiro had no right putting him in this position "Do you want me to tell you what I found? Or should I have you tell me what I found?" "I... ugh..." "You what Keith? Do you know how dangerous this is! You've known about this for phoebs, haven't you!?" Keith wasn't sure how Shiro pulled off apocalyptic rage that sounded do disappointed. Shaking, he nearly dropped the blankets "What were you thinking?" "Lance..." "Lance what? Didn't want me to know? You should have known better. I told you how dangerous this stuff is. If he has a drug problem, you should have told me immediately. Do you know how dangerous this is? How addictive this is? Do you understand what kind of a situation you've put me in?" Tears rolled down Keith's face and dripped onto the blankets, unable to meet Shiro's eyes "Well, do you?" "Sh-Shiro... it's not what you think" "What I think is that Lance has a drug problem you've neglected to inform me of. Do you have any idea what kind of complications that this could have caused during his surgery?" "You don't understand..." "Then tell me!" It'd been years since Keith had felt the fear that had his heart racing and his stomach flipping. The fear that came from parents or parental figures... dropping to squat, he buried his face in Lance's blanket, breathing in his scent as he tried to calm down "Then I'll go ask him..." "No!" "Then start talking. Does Coran know? Is this the secret you've all been hiding from me?" Keith shook his head. Yes, it was a secret, but not that one "You don't understand... what he's been through" "What's that supposed to mean?" "I can't... Shiro... it's not my secret to tell" "I'm sick of hearing that. This stuff could kill him. Is that what you want? Lance dead?" Falling back onto his arse, Keith shook his head "He could have died on the operating table" "Shut up!" "Keith, tell me what's going on!" "They got him addicted to it! They kept him drugged up while they tortured him! We... he... we left him alone... he was doing everything he could to forget... we've been... working on... bringing him off of the drugs. He's been making progress... then this happened. He doesn't want to be dependant on them. He doesn't want to..." Breaking down into sobs, Keith felt awful. Another precious secret gone up in flames because of him. Gulping for air, Keith hugged the blanket tighter as he rocked "We were working on this... he was getting better... you had no right..." "Keith..." "No! Don't you dare! Don't you dare... He's my husband, of course I knew about it. Of course I was helping him with. Of course he was trying to get past it... You have no idea how bad Earth was for him. He feels like he broke his whole fucking family... They kept him on this stuff... and... he doesn't want to be... he doesn't want to take them... that's why he wouldn't take more medication. He knows he has a problem, but you can't even trust him! You couldn't trust that Daehra understood. She didn't know how bad those injections were... not until... until after... I came. He couldn't cope, Shiro. He felt like none of us wanted him... he still doesn't feel wanted. This was his case and you're sending him away with no answers. He was working hard out here... only to be betrayed" Angered, Keith didn't realise the slip of his tongue calling Lance his "husband". He couldn't stop crying "I don't want him to die... I don't want him to die... he's my whole fucking world... Coran... we... would have talked to him... not where you could find out. All he's wanted is your respect. He... can't see how amazing he is... because he feels so inferior to everyone..." Keith hiccuped "He's falling apart because of this... you don't know what it's been like for him..." "Lance could have reached out for help at any time" "No..." "Yes. He knows we would be there" "No he didn't!" "Keith, you need to calm down for me" "How can I do that!? You just accused me of wanting him dead!" "I..." Keith knew Shiro pushed because he worried for the pair of them, but that didn't mean anything. He'd well and truly crossed a line "I'm sorry. But you can understand how much of a shock this has been" "It wouldn't have been a shock if you could just trust people..." "He has a drug problem" "And we were dealing with it" "What if something had happened?" "Like what?" "Like he hurt someone when he was high" "It doesn't work like that. Lance doesn't get violent without a good reason" "Are you saying that as his partner or as his friend?" "Both. He's in so much pain all the time... we've been working so hard to get though things" "And that fight you had, where he left, was that to do with this?" Keith shook his head "That's between Lance and Krolia. As far as I know, she and he have talked" "You've still left me in a tough position" "It doesn't have to be. You're sending him away anyway..." "I'm not sending him away. I'm transferring him so he could have surgery and finally go into a pod" "Something you couldn't have done sooner? You couldn't have shipped Kre'el off to Altea?" "No. You know that as well as I do" "It feels like according to you, I know nothing. It's not my first time around drugs, Shiro. You know what those homes were like. You know you can't do jack shit to help anyone who doesn't want help. He asked for help" Sighing, Shiro moved to squat down across him "You know I care about both of you. I'm just shocked that you didn't come to someone who was more experienced to get advice and help for him" "I talked to you. I talked to Coran. I talked to Krolia. I even talked to Lance's mum. But none of you could tell me what I needed to know. How could I betray his trust like that? He needs safety and stability. He needed to get his feet back under him" "I'm proud of you for trying to help him, but you're not trained in these kinds of things. Frankly I don't know if I can continue to let Daehra treat him when she's been giving him such a dangerous substance. I love you both, and all I want is the best for Lance, but you understand that these secrets aren't helping him, or helping me to figure out how to help him" "Shiro... please..." "We're both going to have a little talk with Lance about this" "You can't" Keith's heart was breaking. Lance was going to be torn apart by this. He was already depressed as it was. The conversations they did have were never about what happened, Lance steering away from the topic every time they nudged it. If they weren't talking, Lance wanted to cuddle... but his husband would stay silent for vargas at an end. He'd been so focused on getting Lance through the surgery and then into some kind of counselling and help like he'd asked for that he hadn't foreseen this kind of a speed bump. Carrying the two milkshakes with shaky hands, Shiro had plucked the blanket out his hold as the pair walked into Lance's room. Lucteal had practically glared at Shiro, acting like he didn't want to allow them access to Lance's room. And quiznak if Keith wished he hadn't. Sitting up in his bed, Lance's face brightened up at the sight of him, before falling as Shiro followed into the space "Babe... have you been crying?" Stupid Lance, seeing right through him even when he was trying to hold it all. Shaking harder, Keith barely made it to Lance's left side, placing the milkshakes down on a rather expensive looking machine that was off "It's ok, babe. I'm ok. Daehra, can you give the three of us a little space?" "She should..." "Shiro, trust me on this. Daehra, it's ok. We just need to talk to Lance about something" Daehra's eyes flicked to the IV bag, her empathic senses probably knowing what this was about "Lucteal and I will be right outside" Nodding, Lance seemed to retreat further into himself "Why don't you two go rest? I have a feeling this isn't going to be all that fun, so I'm already scheduling my after scowling nap. I've already had it all from Veronica, so we might as well get Shiro off the list too" "Alright, I understand. Keith, you know what to monitor for?" Avoiding Lance's gaze, Keith jumped at Daehra's question "Uh... yeah. Go ahead" "Please do not upset him further. He has been through quite a lot. A lot of which you would not understand" There was no settling the silent thing going on between Daehra, Lucteal and Shiro. He'd hoped for Lance's sake the would have patched up their differences over the past three movements, but that remained a big fat nope. Leaving the room, the three of them were left with a few very pregnant moments silence passing between them. Keith couldn't take knowing what was coming. He'd very nearly avoided a panic of his own under Shiro's words. Lance seemed to know whatever was going on wasn't something he wanted to talk about, and Shiro... had flicked out the blanket and was now laying it over Lance's bed. Which was supposed to be his job. He didn't want Shiro's stupid scent on his boyfriend's sheets "What is this about? Can you just spit it out already? Did you get data off the ship from the samples? Is that it?" Lance let out a dry laughed before continuing "So what are you here to laugh at me about? The drugs or what Allura did to my body? Or is it the torture? I had the feeling they filmed it... Maybe... How I fucked up and nearly got Keith killed? There's few things that make Keith cry, and with how guilty he looks, it's not something small" Keith wanted to tell Lance to shut up. His tone hurt to hear, as did him exposing all his secrets to Shiro... He hadn't thought about the fact their sample data may still exist with the outpost being destroyed, but it made sense to him that the data would have been sent on before the scene of their crimes were erased. From how Kre'el opened a wormhole, their had to be a secondary location she'd had in mind. Pulling the vial from his pocket again, Shiro held it up for Lance to see "You told him?" There was that disappointment again... this time from Lance "Keith didn't tell me. When you refused pain medication, I examined the video from this room. For privacy I had the sound turned off, but for security I left the cameras on given the prisoners we have onboard from the ship and from the mining moon the ship crashed on" Lance let out a small "oh" as he nodded "So you know I'm a drug addict?" "Keith told me how it happened. That they drugged you during torture?" "Yep. Can't just quit the stuff because it'll shut down my body if I do" Keith shifted, he didn't want Lance to hate him. He knew Shiro was only being so hard because he cared, but... he didn't know what to do or say in this moment "Lance... I'm sorry this happened to you, but why didn't you tell any of us? We could have gotten you help sooner. This could have seriously complicated your surgery. We nearly lost you... we all nearly lost you" Crossing his arms, Lance huffed "Geez Shiro, why would any want to brag that they were addicted to drugs. That I needed them to get through the fucking day. Let me just casually drop that into a group call. Hey guys, guess what? I'm a fucking druggy who's fucked in the head. Even got that touch of brain damage to prove it. Yeah. Because it's that fucking easy when you were enjoying your lives without me. Also, I heard you. I heard you yelling at Keith. I think the whole fucking floor heard you yelling at him. If you've got a problem with me, then you talk to me. You don't sneak around stealing things from my ship, and you especially don't take it out on Keith when he has been trying his hardest to get me off them. I know you worry for him, but he's the same damn age as when you went missing off Pluto. I don't want you fighting or yelling because of some waste of space like I am" "Lance, that's not what I think at all..." "Babe, no. No, you're not a waste of space" Their words overlapped. Keith could understand Lance lashing out. A tiny bit maybe even pleased that his boyfriend had scolded Shiro for yelling at him "Lance, when I saw you on that ship, cradled in Coran's arms I realised how close we'd come to losing you. I couldn't pull Keith out the healing pod... and I didn't know what to do. I don't know what to do now. I'm honestly scared for you. Scared that this could lead to you dying. And I'm scared of Keith being dragged into a situation like he did in those foster homes. There's safer ways to come off of the drugs. I know you rely on Keith, but I'm worried about the strain it'll cause on both of you" "Shiro, I'm not a kid. Not anymore. I appreciate that you came at Keith's message, and I appreciate what you've done for both of us. But this, isn't your problem. That's why you're not listed as my next of kin and Keith is in charge of my medical decisions. You should forget you saw this. It's being handled" Shiro was trying. Keith knew he was trying. He still held that anger from being kept out of the loop on this, but he was trying in his own way to make Lance see that he wanted to be there for him. Raising his head, he swallowed hard at the expression on Lance's face. It was getting too much for him "I can't forget something like this Lance. And pushing it aside isn't going to help. I care about you. Please rely on me. Please let me help you. I want to help you" "I know! You weren't supposed to know! We were working on it... weren't we?" Red-rimmed eyes looked to Keith for comfort. A hand shyly moving to pat the space next to him. Forcing himself forward, Keith climbed up into the bed, Lance curling into him as he held him tightly, nuzzling into the soft curve of the Cuban's neck as pained scent poured from his love. Shaking, his emotions were bubbling up, the dam breaking as he cried softly "We were, baby. We are. You've done so good. I'm so sorry... I didn't want... I didn't want to tell another secret" "No... shhh, I understand. I'm sorry... I'm not strong enough to..." "You are strong. So strong..." Shifting Lance's legs up and between his, Keith positioned Lance so he was leaning against his chest. The angle better for Lance's lungs "I want to die... I'm so tired... of being disappointment" "When we get to Altean, we're going to get some help. I'm not going anywhere" "It's so busy in my head... I crave it so badly..." "I know" Because he did. Lance didn't need to spend vargas explaining himself. He got it. He wasn't oblivious to the physical pain... but Lance was working so hard at being clean of everything he could be clean of. Working so hard not to keep falling apart and to find a way to keep breathing... despite what he might think or how he might act "I thought you forget... no... no one came to... to talk to me" "You thought I forgot you need help? I thought it might be easier on New Altea. Away from here" "I don't want to leave with everything how it is" "I know" "I don't know how long I'll be the in pod... I hate them. I hate them so much... I don't want to wake up. I don't want to... miss more time" "Babe, I'm not going anywhere. We're accidental married remember. I can't let someone swoop in and whoo my husband out from under me" Lance gave him a wet laugh that sounded like music to Keith's ears "Never. Never... no one but you" They'd forgotten they had an audience. Both of them crying softly as they nuzzled, seeking comfort from the person they loved the most. "I... should be going then... Lance, I want to help you. So think about it, please. Anything I can do... I respect you. And I respect what you went through. I know Daehra doesn't like me, but your team... you've got a pretty amazing team. You're a good leader. I was wrong. It was wrong of me to think I understood things better than you did. Especially out in this area of space. The work you did here, it made a real difference. And you should be proud of that. I'm sorry for ambushing you over this. We nearly lost you and I didn't want to lose you to something like this... something that I could be there for..." Sniffling and hiccuping, Lance was the kindest soul he knew. Touches had been setting him off, as had certain smells, but reaching out his busted arm, he bit his lip at pain as he waved Shiro into a hug. Shiro hugging into Keith more than Lance, most probably out of respect. Sniffling as his eyes grew wet, Shiro was just as bad as the two of them "So, accidental husband's?" Lance let out a laugh "We... didn't know we were getting married at the time. There was this alien princess who stood had us stand in this gold ring and drink this horrible wine stuff..." Kissing Lance's cheek, Keith nodded "It was Daehra's little sister Annla. We got married on their planet before we came back for Hunk and Shay's engagement party. We're still working us out... but yeah, accidentally married the best guy in the universe" "You mean the only guy who could love your mullet" "It's not a mullet" "You could grow it down to your arse and it'll always be a mullet" "That's it. If I stay with the pair of you any longer, I'm going to catch your idiocy. Lance... please, even if it's Coran. Let him in?" "Coran... knows most of it... not... not all of it... but he knows most of it" What Coran did know, Keith didn't. They'd talked before Lance had developed the secondary infection and a little after, privately "That's a really good start. I'm sorry I came down so hard on both of you. You're both like brothers to me" "Thank you, Shiro. And can you keep the whole marriage thing a secret? Hunk would kill me. He already tried to kick me out when Lance was having a panic attack" Lance didn't respond. Shiro didn't seem to notice as he detached from the hug and passed over the two very melted milkshakes. Giving Keith's shoulder on last pat, his brother left them. When the door to his room closed, Lance let out a groan "Babe?" "I fucking hate this" "What?" "He apologised and I know I should feel better or some shit, but I don't know how to feel. I've been so fucking mad at him. He said it was for security but I feel like it was because I'm such a fuck up... I don't even know if he would have come and got me... and... Kre'el... why not transfer her? How's their investigation going? Have they been to Erathus? I feel like... like he can't trust me with any of it... I have... so many... I didn't want to burden you... I..." Lance's breathing was becoming uneven. Rubbing his back with his free hand, Keith sighed softly "No, babe. No. I don't know what Shiro is doing, or why he's running things like that, but there's so many things happening at the moment. I don't doubt he cares for you" "It's... hard to let anyone else in. I feel so weak" "I promise you, secret husband of mine, you're strong as hell" "I take it you're the one who let it slip?" "I'm sorry. Shiro... he brought up some feelings I haven't really dealt with properly. From my time in the system... you know, that disappointed tone that only parents can give" "I'm so sorry, babe. I heard him... and I didn't understand it all. How did he even get the vial?" "I don't know. He shouldn't have called us out like that. It's none of his business" "He's your brother. He's worried for you. Especially after what you went through in the system. God. I wish I could back in time and met you sooner. I wish I hadn't picked so many fights with you... I hate that you went through that" "I hate that you're still suffering" "You're suffering too. I don't like bringing all these memories back for you either. Do you maybe want to tell me?" No. Hell no. Lance was down on himself as it was. Hearing Keith's messed up childhood was the last thing he needed... So why wasn't that what came out? "Only if you want to listen" What. No. Lance didn't need to put up with him continuing to cry just because Shiro hit too close to home "Keith, I want to know everything about you... when you're ready. Not when Shiro has scared the quiznak out of you. I can smell your fear all over you. Don't push yourself" Keith let out a deep breath of relief, Lance smacking him playfully with his milkshake "It's not that I don't want to tell you" "You'll tell me when you're ready. Believe me, as the messed up one, I get it. Can we finish these then can you help me shower, Daehra won't let shower alone? It's not Shiro's fault but his scent is setting me off" "I... don't like his scent on you either. We could skip the milkshakes?" Lance shook his head, clipping Keith's chin as he did in his enthusiasm. Cringing back, Lance frowned at him "You promised bed and chocolate... and I might be trying to hard right now not to start crying because you're being too nice to me" "You most definitely deserve me being nice. I know you didn't tell Shiro yourself, but you didn't run away and that was brave" Rolling his eyes at him, Keith was glad to see the sass "Do you ever like... get sick of being so disturbingly nice?" "When it comes to you, not really" "You're killing me here. None of my lines are as smooth as you" Waiting until Lance had raised the straw of his milkshake, Keith let himself smirk internally. If his accidental husband wanted him smooth, he was getting smooth "Maybe when we get to Altea, I can take you on a date? We could watch the sunset, just you and me?" Lance choked hard on his milkshake, the cold liquid spilling into Keith's crotch. Flailing and trying to escape the freezing feeling against his junk, both their milkshakes went everywhere. Lance laughing as hard as he was coughing. Keith left standing by his boyfriend's bed with his sweat pants around his ankles. He'd been aiming for smooth, yet... this was so much nicer.