#Disclaimer: do not actually use alcohol to clean a wound

[bucketsofmonsters]

Hunting Season

cw: trophy hunting of sentient creatures, severe leg injury, oral sex, fingering, thigh humping

fem jackalope hybrid x afab reader

Word count: 8k

You hated hunting season. You moved out here, all the way to the woods, to escape people and yet every year they came, the worst people you could possibly imagine. Every summer stupid men came into your forest with their guns and their traps and every year it infuriated you. You wouldn’t be so mad if they were hunting for food, that you understood, but almost all of them were trophy hunters. 

You set off on your daily ritual of trying to set off all the traps they’d set this morning so no one would get caught in them. 

Your head jerked up as the sound of distant wailing pierced through the quiet of the forest. You took off. If you’d heard it, then it was only a matter of time before someone else did. 

As you got closer to the noise, you realized that it sounded human and you cursed, knowing a hybrid had gotten stuck in one of their traps. 

You approached slowly, making sure no one else was around. Your relationships with the hunters were already strenuous. They knew you were setting off all of their traps, if they knew you were also setting their prey free… well, you weren’t sure what they might do but you were certain it wouldn’t be good.

The first thing you saw, hidden away amongst the leaves, was a set of antlers. They poked up above the foliage as you crept up slowly. 

Through the leaves you saw a girl, around your age, with a pair of long fluffy ears that were tucked down behind her antlers overtop her mousy hair. The flattened ears matched her terrified expression, her cheeks wet with tears as she kept desperately clawing at her leg. 

You didn’t even think jackalope hybrids existed, thought they were an urban legend hunters told each other about. And yet there she was, panicked and crying and very much real. 

As you began to approach, her big ears perked up. They were nestled behind her antlers, her nose twitching as you moved through the foliage. 

Big, teary brown eyes met your own as you emerged from your hiding spot. As soon as she saw you she tugged urgently at her leg, which was wedged firmly between the teeth of the metal trap. The only thing she succeeded in was getting digging the metal further into her flesh as she desperately tried to pull away. 

You took a step back in an attempt to get her to stop moving. “Hey, I’m not here to hurt you but if you keep moving like that you’re going to hurt yourself even worse. 

She tried to thrash away from you, muttering no to herself as she was painfully rooted in place. 

“You need my help to open this kind of trap, just please stay still,” you pleaded with her. 

She listened, freezing in place, wet eyes looking expectantly at you as you edged closer. 

As soon as you were within reach you got to work compressing the springs on either side of the trap to free her. After a few substantial pushes the trap fell open and you quickly latched it that way before pushing it away from the both of you. 

The poor girl immediately tried to stand up and collapsed, her injured leg not allowing her to put any weight on it. You went down with her, pulling her arm over your shoulder to help her stand. “There you go, sweetheart, just lean on me. That’s it, there you go.”

She eagerly leaned into your side, putting almost all of her weight on you. There was no attempt to fling herself away this time and you weren’t sure if it was because you’d earned her trust or because she’d realized she had no other options. 

Either way, you needed to get her to safety, and fast. 

Your pace was slower than you would have liked. You’d have preferred to attempt to carry her but you got the distinct feeling that would spook her even further.

Luckily you weren’t too far from your cabin and you managed to make your way back without encountering anyone. 

You pulled her through the door, quickly shutting it behind you, closing her off from any prying eyes. If anyone saw her, you weren’t sure there was anything you could do to stop them. 

“You’re helping me?” She said it like she couldn't quite believe it, like she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. You had a feeling only time would take away that instinct. There wasn’t anything you could say to make it go away right now, it was too ingrained in her. 

The most you could do was help her with gentle hands and a soft voice. 

“Yup. Come on, up here.” You shifted her onto your bed, the blood from her injured leg seeping into the sheets. 

You cursed under your breath as you realized that all that was left of your first aid supplies was an old roll of gauze and a half empty box of bandaids. Certainly not enough to fix this. You grabbed some vodka and a clean rag, determined to do the best you could to sanitize it before wrapping it up, or at least to remove some of the grime it was currently covered in. 

The wound was barely visible, clots of blood and dirt streaked across her, spread everywhere from her writhing on the ground. 

“This is going to hurt,” you warned her as you soaked the cloth, hoping she understood that this had to be done. 

She drew back a little back a little before nodding and grabbing a handful of your sheets in preparation as you knelt by her injured leg. 

The little shriek she let out as the vodka soaked rag touched her wounds broke your heart. You were going to string those hunters up the second you got the chance. 

The more blood and dirt you pulled away, the better you could to see the gashes in her leg. They were even worse than you’d imagined. She’d clearly been trying to pull herself out for a while before you got there. 

“Really hurts,” she whimpered out.

“I know hun, but we have to get you cleaned up. I promise I’ll be quick, we’re almost done.”

You dabbed at her wounds as gingerly as you could, trying to distract her from the pain by talking while you cleaned her up.

“Your english is really good.”

She swayed back and forth a little, a proud smile crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I know very little about your language, I’ve looked but it’s very hard to find anything about it.”

“Secret,” she said with a wince.

“Oh, is it? I had no idea.”

You’d left the worst part for last but you’d run out of opportunities to avoid it. 

Too nervous to get near it, you opted instead to empty what was left of the bottle onto her leg. As you did, she grabbed your unoccupied hand, squeezing it as hard as she could. 

The bottle ran empty and you looked up to see her with her eyes shut tight and her jaw clenched. 

You stood up to go get the gauze you had left and she tentatively opened one eye at the sound of your retreat. At the sight of her bloody leg she promptly shut it again. You couldn’t blame her, it was hard for you to look at and it wasn’t even your blood. 

You grabbed the old gauze from inside your half forgotten first aid kit and promised yourself that soon you’d go into town and gather more supplies so next time you needed it you’d be prepared. 

Your heart sank at the thought of there being a next time, at the idea that no matter how hard you tried, you could never stop this from happening. 

That there would always be some you couldn’t get to in time. 

You shook the thought out of your head. Worrying about them wouldn’t fix anything. All you could do was care for the one you’d managed to save. 

“Do you have a name?”

She nodded, her ears shifting as she did. “Posy.”

“Well, Posy, you should get some rest. I’ve gotta go out for a while but you’ll be safe in here.”

She glanced around the room nervously, eyes grazing over the furniture. She must have found her surroundings satisfactorily safe because after a few moments she fell backwards onto the bed, nestling into the blankets. 

Despite the fact that she seemed content, you were hesitant to leave her alone. The only thing that managed to send you out that door was the thought that she might not be the only one. 

Night was falling but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You knew these woods more than well enough to navigate in the dark and god knows you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, you knew your mind wouldn’t stop racing long enough to allow you to rest. 

You set off the rest of the traps you could find before returning home, breaking and displacing all the ones that you could. They’d already done far more damage than you would have liked. 

Thankfully, every trap you came across was untripped. You already felt in over your head, you weren’t sure you could take care of any more injured creatures. 

You half expected her to be gone when you got back. 

Instead, she was out cold on the bed, curled up around a pillow she was hugging close to her chest.  She was lit up by the rays of the sunrise creeping through the gaps in your drawn curtains. 

She jerked awake at the sound of the door closing. She tried to bolt upright before being stopped by a painful reminder of why she was in your bed in the first place.

She pulled her legs up towards her, tucking them into herself and inspecting the bloody bandages she had wrapped around her calf. 

“How’re you feeling,” you asked, careful to keep your distance so you didn’t scare her even more. 

“Bad.”

You nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it’s going to be like that for a while, you hurt yourself pretty badly. But it’ll heal, I’ll make sure you’ll be okay, you don’t have to worry.”

Her head cocked to the side and she studied you from her position on the bed. 

“Do you want something to eat?” you asked as she surveyed you. 

She nodded hesitantly. 

Her big eyes watched you carefully as you put a pot on the stove, lighting the fire under it. She moved closer, hopping so as not to put weight on her injured leg and quickly settling in on the floor, positioning herself so she was eye level with the flame.

“Be careful, don’t burn yourself,” you called back as you grabbed a can of soup from the pantry, sticking to something with vegetables in it and hoping that jackalope hybrid’s diets weren’t too dissimilar from bunny hybrids. 

“I’m not stupid.” She pouted at you before returning to her fire watching. “How did you make fire so fast?”

She chose her words slowly and intentionally, working her way through the question while you busied yourself with heating up the soup for the two of you, letting her figure out the words in her own time. 

“Um, there’s gas in the stove and the knob makes a little spark that lights it.”

“Gas?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s warm in here all night.” It was more of a statement than an observation but you understood what she was asking. 

“Yeah, that’s because of a fire too, it’s a heating system. What do you guys normally do at night?”

“We stay close and sheltered.”

“Well, we’re sheltered here, and we’re pretty close.”

She shook her head. “No, closer.”

“Like cuddling?”

Posy nodded. 

“How do you speak English so well?”

“I learned. We all did.”

“Why?”

“To talk our way out of trouble. If you can’t escape, make them like you. Buys time.”

“You know you don’t have to do that with me, right? You can say or do whatever you want to, I’m going to take care of you either way.”

“Why?”

“It’s the decent thing to do. Unfortunately for you, decency is not a universal trait but I promise, no harm will come to you here. Be as much of a little shit as you want.”

She scrunched up her nose as she smiled. “Challenge accepted!”

“Not quite how I meant it.”

She ignored you in favor of staring at the stove as you worked around her. 

Eventually, you broke her little hypnotic spell as you announced, “Food’s done. Do you like tea?”

She shrugged. “What is it?”

“It’s good, you should try it.”

You couldn’t exactly ask her how she liked her tea so instead you opted to put some sugar in it and hope for the best. 

“Do you need help?” you asked as you looked down at her sitting on the floor. 

“With what?”

“With moving to the table. Come on, I’ll…”

“No. Stay here.”

You weren’t sure if she actually wanted to stay on the ground or if the thought of you helping her up wounded her pride. Either way, you weren’t going to fight her on it. 

“Alright. Is this seat taken?” you asked, gesturing at the floor next to her.

She shook her head with a giggle and you settled down next to her, setting two bowls of soup and two mugs of tea on the floor. 

She took a sip out of the mug and scrunched up her nose.

“Too hot.”

“Well, you have to let it cool down first. The soup should be better, I didn’t bring it to a full boil”

She picked up the bowl, ignoring the spoon in favor of sipping directly from it. 

“What is this?” she asked, giving it a curious look. 

“It’s just soup, I get it from the store when I go out.”

“Store?”

“Yeah, it’s where I go to get food.”

“You don’t make it. What do you do with all your forages?”

“Oh, I don’t forage.”

She seemed baffled by this revelation. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really know how.”

“You live here? And you don’t know how?” she asked incredulously.

“Hey, I’m not stupid either, I just never needed to learn. We all have blind spots.”

“You should learn. This is disgusting.”

“Sorry, but I’m afraid you’re gonna be eating a lot of this stuff until I can get you back on your feet.”

She made no attempt to mask her pout and you couldn’t help but laugh as you added, “Just think of it as motivation to get better faster.”

She didn’t seem convinced by your arguments but was too hungry to care. She practically inhaled her food, despite her less than glowing review regarding its taste. 

The tea was more of a hit, her first sip not leaving her questioning your survival skills at the very least. 

After a few more tastes she announced, “This is fine.”

“I’m glad it’s to your liking.”

And honestly, you really were. You were incredibly happy to see her settling in, the jumpiness from before all but gone. 

She looked up from an empty bowl, clutching a still warm mug in her hands. “What now?”

“I don’t normally have guests, I don’t really know how all of this works. Do you want to watch a movie?” It felt like an absurdly pedestrian thing to ask someone who’d almost been hunted for sport the day before but you got the sense she’d appreciate the distraction. 

“What’s a movie?”

“I can show you, c’mon, they’re over here.”

You didn’t have any real service out here in the woods, but what you did have was an old tv and a box of vhs tapes. They were all grainy and in black and white but if she didn’t even know what a movie was, you couldn’t imagine Posy would be particularly picky about the quality. 

You picked something light and hit play. Her eyes widened the second the tv lit up with a picture, scrambling to get a closer look. 

“How does it do that?” she asked, her eyes unblinking as she stared at it. 

“I’m not really sure to be honest, it’s a bit above my paygrade.”

She scooted across the floor to the back of the tv, searching for the origin of the little moving image. 

You let her explore, settling down on the couch as she moved across the floor. Eventually, she settled down with her back against the couch, leaning her head against your leg. 

“Hi there,” you said, looking down at the girl and wondering whether or not you should join her on the floor. 

She tilted her head back, looking up at you with big eyes. “Hello.”

She didn’t seem partial to personal space, nuzzling into you as she watched. 

As the movie neared its close you weaseled away from her and got up from your seat to try and clean up while she was distracted. You didn’t want to remind her about some of the messier things that were still lying around. 

Despite her wonder at the movie, she stopped and turned to instead watch you. 

You went to make the bed, removing all the bloody blankets and replacing them with clean ones, tossing everything covered in blood into the trash. You had a feeling they wouldn’t be salvageable. 

“I can sleep on the floor tonight, you can take the bed,” you called over to her.

She looked at you like you’d lost your mind. “No, you won’t.”

“Please, you’re hurt, I can’t ask you to sleep down there.”

“I don’t want to sleep on that thing,” she said, eyeing your bed distastefully. 

You ceded the floor to her after it became clear she would not budge on her position. 

Later that night, you awoke from the feeling of something moving around you. As you gathered your bearings, you felt someone nestle into your chest and you realized that Posy had risen from her spot on the floor and had instead opted to wrap her arms around you.

She was looking for comfort. It didn’t take a genius to figure that much out. 

You never could have done this, been as brave as her, sought out comfort like this when you needed it. There was courage in the gesture you couldn’t help but admire, a distinct bravery in the vulnerability. 

You ran your fingers through her hair and her grip on you only got tighter, pleading you to stay with her. You’d just felt her get into the bed and wrap herself around you but she seemed to already be drifting off in your arms. 

“I’ve got you,” you muttered, positioning yourself to try and make sure you wouldn’t get whacked by her antlers in your sleep.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off. You hated to admit it but maybe the closeness didn’t just help her. 

You were just as close when you woke up the next morning, her head resting on your shoulder and her arms wrapped around you.

“I thought you said you preferred the floor,” you said with a chuckle as she shifted further beneath the blankets, still attached to your side.

“I do. I dont like sleeping alone.”

“No, I don’t think I do either. Well, you’re welcome to stay up here, I don’t mind.”

“Mkay,” she said, sounding like she was drifting off again. “This thing is more comfortable than it looks.”

Before she could succumb to the newfound wonders of your blankets and the mattress, you nudged her awake. 

“Come on, there’ll be time for that later, we need to get those bandages changed.”

She looked nervous about the proposition and you tried to cede ground and make the vulnerable position she was in feel a little less scary. “You can change them yourself if you want, I understand if you don’t want me near your injuries.” 

She looked up at you from her spot on the pillow, a timidness present now that certainly hadn’t been there moments before. Her ears were the telltale sign, rising from their relaxed position and stiffening back. “Can you help?” 

“Of course I can,” you reassured her. “Your wish is my command.”

“Be careful what you promise, who knows what I’ll ask for,” she said with a smile, her ears falling back into place at your words. 

“Aren’t you a little tyrant in the making? Come on then, let’s take care of that leg so you can get right to bossing me around.”

She pulled her leg up next to you, wincing a little as she did. You pretended not to notice. 

Your brain ran through contingencies as you bound her injuries. So many things could go wrong with her being here, you weren’t prepared for this. 

You barely had the supplies to tend to her injuries, let alone keep her safe and hidden. 

“Have you been through your mating season?” you asked, trying to figure out exactly where you stood. 

She nodded, ears bobbing up and down as she did. Her dark eyes shone with mischief. “Why are you asking?”

Realistically, it was because her going into heat in your cabin could cause a world of problems. The last thing you needed was to attract more attention to her presence here. Other hybrids might not hurt her but a congregation of them outside wouldn’t exactly be discreet. 

That didn’t feel like the right thing to say though, so instead you opted for a playful, “I can’t be curious?”

“Maybe. I could show you sometime, if you wanted.”

“Yeah?” you said with a laugh, her enthusiasm infectious. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer one of these days.”

Her cheeks flushed, despite her being the one to propose the idea and you got the distinct impression her teasing was not going to plan. “I thought humans were prudes.”

“Come on, am I anything like the humans they told you about?”

She sighed, knowing when she’d lost. “No.”

She was even cute when she was pouting, it wasn’t fair. 

“I’m gonna go out and make sure no one else got caught in those traps, okay? I hope that pretty smile of yours is back when I get back or else…”

“Or else?”

You hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. “Or else I’ll find out if you’re ticklish, how’s that sound?”

She giggled, her arms moving over her stomach defensively at the mere thought. “Anything but that,” she pleaded.

“There’s that smile again. See you in a few hours.” Before you could really think about your actions you pressed a quick kiss into her cheek. The second her arms dropped in surprise you poked her in the stomach, leaving the cabin as you heard cries of protest behind you.

She was sitting cross legged right inside the door when you got home, her ears perked up and at attention. The second you crossed through the doorway she sprung up, practically tackling you. 

She pressed kisses into both of your cheeks in what you could only describe as an attack. 

“I win.”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. What was that for?”

“You poked me!”

“Only because you let your guard down.” You took another easy shot and poked her again 

“You’re doing better,” you noted. She was still significantly favoring her left leg, the right one almost hovering above the floor as she stood, but the fact that she was standing and moving at all was frankly incredible. “Healed enough for a sneak attack.”

“Healed enough for revenge,” she said with a smile and a nod.

There was no way that she had significantly healed in the few hours you were gone. You could see it in every movement, she was just as hurt as she’d been this morning. 

The change in her disposition seemed more tied to her growing comfort around you than anything. 

You wanted to keep that going, make sure she felt welcome here, felt at home. You swore you’d put even more effort into it and make sure she knew she was cared for. 

It was that promise to yourself that led you to making homemade cookies for your newfound roommate. 

You swatted her hand away from the bowl as she snuck another bite of cookie dough away from you.

“You’re going to make yourself sick, you shouldn’t eat that.”

She just giggled, intent on ignoring your protests.

“Well, when we don’t have enough cookies we’ll both know who to blame.”

That seemed to get through to her, her eyes widening as she surveiled the bowl. “You’ll make more for me, right?”

“I’m not your personal chef,” you protested. 

That didn’t stop you from caving and making her more cookies. You were certain even the strongest will couldn’t withstand those big, sad eyes. They were a powerful weapon and she knew it.

Eventually you managed to get a full batch of cookies into the oven, despite Posy making every attempt to stop you. 

While the cookies were baking, you hopped up on the counter and watched Posy on the floor, her preferred seat. 

You tilted your head, getting a better look at her as she stared down at her feet. Normally she stared up at you endlessly but now she seemed lost in thought.

“What’re you thinking about,” you prodded.

“Just wondering if anyone’s worried about me.”

“I’m sure people are. Do you have any family?”

She nodded.  “Yeah, a big one. I have five sisters, Rose, Violet, Poppy, Lily, and Daisy, she’s the only one younger than me. I was out with her right before I got caught, was getting her home, I had her run when there was trouble.”

“And they’re jackalopes like you?”

She nodded. “There aren’t many of us outside the family though.”

“Do you know what happened to the rest?”

“People happened to them. Not my family though. They’re very very safe, they never let me go out.”

“I’m sure they miss you, I’ll try and find them next time I go out, tell them you’re okay.”

She shrugged. “I go missing a lot, they always say I’m trouble. Everyone else is always home but I get restless, stuck in there.” She rubbed her injured leg as she spoke, the other one bouncing up and down nervously. 

“Well, we’ll make sure you can tell them you’re okay as soon as we can, when you get all healed up and are able to get back into trouble.”

“Do you get restless?”

“Not really, I like staying put. I do like rescuing you though. How about you keep getting into trouble and I’ll keep rescuing you, deal?”

You stuck out your hand, leaning towards the floor as much as you could so she could reach you. 

She stared at it like you were crazy, moving around it to see if you were secretly holding something.

“You shake it,” you whispered to her. “That’s how we humans make deals.”

She took it and gave it a violent shake. 

“Yeah, just like that,” you laughed. 

Your little timer went off and you hopped down from the counter to pull the cookies out. Per usual, Posy did not wait for the food to cool before trying them, scooping a collapsing cookie into her mouth.

“Are they to your liking, m’lady,” you teased her.

“Better than your soup.”

You scoffed and swatted at her as she leaned away, collapsing to the floor in a fit of giggles. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute or that mouth of yours might get you into some real trouble.”

A blush began to bloom beneath her facefull of freckles. “I thought you said I wasn’t trouble?”

“I said I didn’t mind and that I’d rescue you, I never said you weren’t trouble. Even I wouldn’t go making claims like that, especially not after you stole my cookies.”

Your little attempts to make her feel welcome got more and more frequent, despite feeling less and less necessary. 

On one of your trips through the forest, you found some lavender, picking some for her without a second thought, leaving a little bouquet of them on the pillow next to her sleeping head. 

It wasn’t uncommon for you to be able to come and go without Posy ever waking. As her initial jumpiness faded, you found out that she was an incredibly deep sleeper. 

She was sleeping in bed with you every night, the cuddling never ending, even when you weren’t sleeping.

When the summer nights got too warm she kicked the blankets off the both of you, staying firmly attached to your side all the while. 

Without a concerted effort from you to get her to move, she’d stay nestled into the covers most of the time. 

There were, as there always are, exceptions to the rule. 

When you got back home, you found her sitting at the door with a sprig of lavender in her hair and the rest clutched in her hands. She was just as excited to see you as ever, already shouting out thank yous and springing up to give you a hug, being able to put a little more weight on her injured foot every time she jumped up to greet you. 

She was getting better and better at English as well, her already amazing English constantly improving. She was an incredibly fast learner. She could hear you use a word once or twice and pick up its meaning almost immediately. 

She’d started picking up curse words from you, which you found endlessly amusing. Her soft, sweet voice would let out an impatient “fuck” and you couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. 

The whole ordeal made her quite cross. She insisted she was just mimicking you and there wasn’t anything funny about it. You unconvincingly reassured her that of course it wasn’t, not funny at all, all spoken behind a smile. 

You, on the other hand, were a little slower with her langugae

She was willing to share but replicating her words was more difficult than you’d anticipated. It had sounds you were unfamiliar with, little clicks and shifts in tone you’d never had to make before.

You’d asked her about her family names, if they were translations or if they just happened to line up with english words

“I translated them. The meaning’s what’s important anyways.”

“What is your real name?”

“Posy is my real name.”

“But how would you say it?”

She made one of the noises you were becoming more and more familiar with. It was more subtle than any word you’d ever heard before, almost being mistakable for a sound of the trees rustling or the wind outside. 

You did your best to repeat back what she’d said and immediately knew you’d gotten it wrong based on her snickering. 

It took a few tries but eventually you got it right. 

“Call me Posy though.” she added. “The meaning is what matters.”

“Yeah okay, I will” 

As you sat there, mulling over the secret words she’d been gifting you, you blurted out a question you’d been unable to shake. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do! Did you really think I might not trust you?” She seemed more hurt by the question than anything. 

Did you? “Not really. I think I just wanted to hear you say it. 

She thought for a minute and then shot back a question of her own. “Why did you get me flowers?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I thought you might like them. Did you?”

“Mmhmm.” she nodded enthusiastically. “The thing is… I’ve just heard things about humans and giving people flowers.”

You felt your cheeks begin to warm and tried to play it off. “Have you? Good things or bad things?”

She shrugged. “Just things.”

You had an idea where she might have been getting these ideas from. 

Her obsession with movies was there from the start. She was endlessly fascinated by the moving images and your inability to explain to her how they worked only seemed to fuel her fascination. You were certain she was going to wear through your vhs tapes. 

Her fascination seemed to warp over time, however. You noticed the movies she’d keep watching, the fixation on romance movies growing steadily the more she consumed. 

For the fifth time this week alone you came home to her watching an old black and white romance, her nose practically touching the screen. 

“Is it true humans mate for life?” she asked as you settled in next to her. 

“Sometimes. Depends on the human.”

“Oh. What about you human?”

“Maybe. I suppose I’d just have to find the right person. Or the right bunny.”

Her face immediately lit up with no attempt to hide it

“I think I like human romance.”

“What, no one ever get you flowers before?”

“We get each other flowers. We just don’t have partners. It seems nice.”

“You could have a partner, nothing’s stopping you.”

“Nothing?”

You slid down from the couch next to her on the floor. “Nope, nothing. Which one’s your favorite?”

She rushed over to your collection of tapes. Her movement was practically normal now. She was still favoring her left side but it seemed more out of habit than from her injury, being fully capable of forgetting all about it and darting about when she got excited. 

She wasted no time before getting comfortable, clamoring up into your lap and nuzzling into you as the movie began. 

You should get more tapes for her, you thought offhandedly before realizing there might not be a point. She was practically healed and as much as you tried to forget it, she would eventually leave. 

You had no clue how to bring up the topic, how to suggest that maybe she could visit you despite knowing that everyone she knew and loved would want her to stay far away from you the second they got her back. 

Maybe you were being selfish by not talking about it, trying to keep her with you as long as possible. Frankly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

She noticed your mind drifting and brought you back to reality with an elbow to the side. You let out an oof and shot an accusatory glance her way but she was staring at you with frantic eyes. 

“This is the best part,” she insisted. “You can’t miss it.”

You turned back to the screen just in time to catch the climax of the movie. The music swelled, the camera zoomed in, and the pair on your screen finally kissed. 

She must have this movie memorized by now but Posy still seemed utterly entranced by the scene in front of her. 

“I’ve kissed some people, but never like that,” she informed you, her eyes still glued to the screen. 

You wanted to kiss her like that. You wanted to kiss her every way she wanted to be kissed, to show her a romance to rival all of her little movies. 

But what if that wasn’t what she wanted? What if she was just a friend showing another friend a movie and you’d misread every signal. 

Posy put those doubts right out of your mind, staring at you with resolve as she clearly hinted, “If only someone would kiss me like that.”

You laughed out, “you dumbass,” before leaning in, slowly, carefully, intentionally, just like in her little movie, with all the love in the world in your eyes.

You shut them the moment before you made contact, her hands immediately coming up to cup your face, holding you close. 

You fell into the kiss immediately. It just felt right, you fit together perfectly. You were pressed up against each other but you kept trying to pull her closer, wanting more. 

The tip of her tongue teased at the seam of your mouth until you let her in, deepening the kiss.

Her legs fell to either side of your thigh and she slid herself forwards and back, letting out little whimpers into your mouth. 

You pushed your leg up into her grinding, encouraging her.  

You broke the kiss for a second, muttering out, “Do you want to…”

She nodded and cut you off as she pushed her lips back into yours.

You tried to lead the two of you back towards the bed while she refused to let you go, causing you to slightly misjudge how far away you were from it and go tumbling down onto the sheets, giggling into each other as you fell. 

You guided her onto her back, pulling your shirt off as she desperately pulled hers off, dragging you back down while your arms were still wrapped up in its sleeves. You struggled to pull it the rest of the way off and throw it to the floor while she trailed kisses down your neck. 

Your hand slipped under the waistband of her pants, and you gently slid your fingers inside her. She was so wet they slid inside with no resistance, her walls fluttering around your fingers. 

You kissed your way down her body, pulling her pants off as you went. As you did, you found something you hadn’t known existed. A little white tail sat right above her ass. 

“What’s this?” you asked as you shifted her onto her side to get a better look. 

She rolled back onto her back, hiding the tail from sight once more. “Don’t be mean,” she pouted. 

“I’m not! It’s cute.”

You leaned down to press kisses into her thigh as she tried to pull you up where she wanted you.

Eventually you gave in to her pleas, your fingers continuing to crook upwards inside of her as you pressed gentle kisses to her clit. She bucked into your face, wanting more.

You hooked your arms around her plush thighs to get her even closer to you, focusing more of your attention on her clit as she started to squirm, lapping and sucking at it. As she got closer to her climax her thighs squeezed around your head and you were convinced you might be in heaven. Your hips pushed down into the sheets as you worked her through her orgasm. 

Your hand slipped down to try and provide yourself with some friction but it wasn’t enough. You needed her, needed her to touch you. 

As if answering your prayers, Posy pulled you up and kissed you deeply, licking her own taste out of your mouth. 

She flipped you over, pinning you against the mattress, her bare chest warm and soft against yours as her fingers dove inside of you, her palm pressing down against your clit.  

You were embarassingly close already, her soft touches bringing you right up to the edge. 

Her fingers slipped out of you and circled your clit, swallowing all of your moans as she guided you towards your peak. You pulled away from the never-ending kiss and buried your face in her neck as you came, rolling your hips as waves of pleasure radiated out from your core. 

After you came down you collapsed, your head resting on her chest. Her hand was caressing your cheek as she smiled down fondly at you.

“Was the kiss just like you wanted?” you asked. 

“It was with you so yes, it was.”

“You big sap,” you said with a laugh. 

A wave of exhaustion hit you and you were glad you were already in bed, using Posy as your own personal pillow as you got some much needed rest. 

You woke up to the sound of pounding at your door. 

The first instinct from your half-asleep brain was to ignore it and go back to sleep, snuggled into Posy’s side. 

The sound of a fist slamming against the wood continued ceaselessly and you could make out the muffled noises of the person outside shouting. The second you heard the word traps you sprung up, throwing clothes on and ushering Posy out of sight.

She picked up on your panic immediately, glancing anxiously at the door as you tucked her away. 

“What the fuck do you want?” you hissed as you threw the door open. 

Your attitude towards the hunters wasn’t pleasant on a good day but now, after you’d been taking care of Posy for weeks, you’d never felt angrier. 

“I want you to stop messing with my shit, that’s what I fucking want,” he shot back. “Do you think we didn’t know it was you? You’ve become a real pain in my ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Not my fault if you can’t trap prey to save your life, maybe get better at hunting and stop blaming me for your shitty haul.”

“We found blood coming from one of our traps, you know. After a few feet, the trail went cold. Like someone covered it up.”

“Well, I suppose that’s the price you pay when you’re hunting intelligent creatures, sometimes they outsmart you and your shit-for-brains friends.”

He lurched towards you and you instinctively drew back towards the shut door of your cabin. 

As you did, you saw a familiar face peek through the curtain and panic shot through you, endlessly worried they’d spot her. You talked a big game but if it came down to a straight up fight you didn’t like your odds. 

“Listen,” you said, knowing you needed to end this as quickly as you could. “You’re not the only one with a hunting riffle. I advise you to stay away from here or that camouflage you’re wearing may end up being a defense of mine. Now please get the fuck off of my property.”

You were bluffing, you didn’t have a hunting riffle. But at the end of the day, you didn’t need one. All you needed was for him to believe you.

His wide eyes and nervous glance back at your home told you that he did. 

“Bitch,” he spat at you as he began his retreat.

As he drew out of sight, you slipped inside, careful not to open the door anymore than you needed to. 

You locked the door and immediately whipped around and looked for Posy. 

She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, her legs curled inwards and tears streaming down her face. She was visibly shaking and clutching her leg and you got the sense she’d collapsed from her spot at the window.  

You grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped her up, pulling her into you. Her breaths were coming fast and you just held her, pressing gentle kisses into her forehead and rubbing the base of her ears while whispering soft reassurances to her. 

You slowly pulled her leg out from under the blanket and gently unwound the bandages from the leg she was clutching, trying to show her what you’d been putting off mentioning for days, what you couldn’t help but notice every time you changed her bandages.

“Hey, you’re okay, you’re all healed up. Look,” you said as you revealed her leg, covered in scars but functionally healed. “You’re fine. They can’t get you in here, you’re okay. You’re all healed up and I’ll never let them touch you again, you’re gonna be just fine.”

Her shaky breaths got slower as she started to calm down, her hand tenuously reaching down to touch her old wounds. 

She slowly calmed down, her hand grasping a handful of your shirt as if she was afraid you’d leave her. You had no plans on doing so, keeping her as close as you could. 

You did your best to cheer her up, to show her that things really were getting better. “Hey, on the bright side, your legs all healed up. You should be able to leave soon, go back home.”

“What?”

“You’re fine now, you should be able to walk. We can get you back home.” You focused on keeping a pleasant smile on your face, on not showing her how distraught you were of thinking about her leaving, about this place being empty, about not having Posy to come home to.

“Oh. Okay.”

She didn’t speak much after that. You left her alone for days, wanting to give her space to recover, ignoring that nagging feeling in your gut screaming at you to just say something. You refused to push. You would wait for her to speak first, to make the first move. 

She never did. 

Against your better judgment, you left her alone again, setting off to undo as many traps as you could once more. 

When you got back she was gone. 

Panic immediately bloomed in your chest, convinced that someone had gotten to her, that she’d been taken. 

The pile of clean bandages wadded up and thrown in your trash indicated otherwise. 

Maybe you shouldn’t chase after her. Maybe this was what she wanted, to go home to her family and forget all of this. Maybe this was her way of saying she didn’t want to see you again.

You barely even had time to process any of those thoughts before you took off running. 

She hadn’t been careful. Her trail was easy to follow, much easier than it should have been. 

You were out of breath when you came upon her. You knelt in front of her sobbing form, making sure she wasn’t hurt before you spoke. 

“Hey, what… what’s going on? Why did you run, what’s happening?”

She sniffled, trying to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You dont want me.”

“What?”

“You were just waiting for me to heal and now you want me to leave. I thought you really wanted me.”

“I do! I want you to stay, I thought you would want to leave.”

“Why would I want to leave?”

“To go back to your family, back home. You’re not like me, you have people to go back to.”

“You’re my people. Wait, so you’ll let me stay.”

“Let you? Posy, I want you to stay, I’ve been dreading you leaving ever since you showed up. Besides, with you gone who else would I sav-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, it being cut short as the wind was knocked out of you when she tacked you, knocking you on your back as her arms wrapped around you. You could feel her massive smile as she pressed her face into the crook of your neck, kissing you every time she managed to suppress her smile for a moment.

She sat up suddenly, her thighs on either side of your waist, keeping you trapped where you lay.  Her ears were perked up as she grinned down at you

She started talking a mile a minute, the excitement taking over her. “I can take you to meet everyone one of these days, when hunting season is over. I’ll get to show you off. Oh, and I can forage for you. Then you’ll find out how gross all your food is. ”

You snorted. “Posy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I get up please?”

“Oh. Right, yeah of course.” She helped you to your feet, still eagerly making plans as she grabbed your hand, tugging you behind her as you both headed back home.

[heroin-antiheroine]

So I've smoked heroin and I use fentynal also blues and other opiates but I've fully already made up my mind about wanting to start shooting up heroin also. I understand the risks and all that and it's been hard to find anyone willing to kinda give me tips on what to expect and how to cook it and safety tips while slamming it. Do you have any advice and any methods or tips you'd recommend (other then not slamming it ) please

sure, i have no desire to talk anyone out of slamming bc i'd be a hypocrite anyway. your mind's made up, may as well do it safely. this is gonna be long btw, i have a lot of advice & harm reduction is something i'm passionate about. sorry if this is a bit late btw. i don’t check tumblr mega often. but i reckon it will help someone even if you found advice elsewhere. 

list of things you need to bang up: gear (obv lol), sterile needles (you can get completes or detachables), sterile spoons, alcohol swabs, filters or cotton, citric acid/vit c if you’re using european/no.3 heroin (& i think black tar, however it would be best to ask someone who uses that), clean water (cold tap water is fine. they say boiled & cooled is the best but i just use clean cold tap water. bottled water is less good), a lighter (to cook), paper towel (to press on the wound after injecting), a plaster (to cover the wound). 

here are some extra things that i use: milligram scales (so i can ensure a safe dosage every time), magazine (to use as a clean surface), hand sanitiser (washing your hands is best but you may be unable to do that), clean scissors (to cut the filter, don’t rip them), a mini portable heater (heat brings out your veins), another glass of water (to drink to bring out your veins. i drink out of a pink cup & use a blue cap to bang up with, so i don’t confuse them), a pack of sweets (sometimes you need to eat sugar to get a hit lol).

just a disclaimer: i’m english so i get european/no.3 heroin. this differs to american ecp/no.4 in that you have to cook it with citric acid/vit c. here are my step by step instructions to banging up: get clean water in both cups, weigh out my portion of heroin in a sterile spoon, unwrap a sterile needle, use that to get 3 units of water from the cup, pour into the spoon. then i add the vit c & cook it until it’s mostly dissolved with some brown bits floating on top (those brown bits are the cuts. the gear normally looks like piss lol). if you’re using ecp you won’t need to cook it. you will with tar though (edit: not necessarily actually, see the comments on this post). then get a filter, cut it widthways or don’t at all. i dunk mine in water to preserve as much gear as possible (otherwise it just eats it). drop it in the spoon, then use a needle to suck it up through the top. 

then you’re ready to bang up. i sit in front of a heater & drink the pink cup water to make my veins pop out. you can find a vein by pressing lightly on your skin. they feel kinda springy. since you’re a new user, you’ll probably be able to see some. don’t slap it, that can make it retract. i use my nails as a marker to know where to inject (like stabbing myself with my nail either side of the vein). you’re supposed to insert the needle at ~30 degree angle. you probably won’t know what that looks like, i don’t, but i have this trick for finding it. position the needle at a 90 degree angle perpendicular to your vein. then halve it by moving the needle down. now you have a 45 degree angle. now you need to take a 3rd off & then you’ll have ~30 degree angle. this doesn’t always work but it’s certainly very helpful. 

insert the needle FACING TOWARDS the heart. this is always the case unless you’re banging up in your neck or something, which i highly do not advise. for your arms, legs etc, the needle should be facing upward. i have never banged up in my shoulders etc & i wouldn’t. your arms will be fine for now. you want to learn how to hold the needle with one hand & become ambidextrous with it. i might include a pic after this with me holding it. i basically pinch my thumb & ring fingers together around the syringe. i use my index & middle fingers to hold the plunger & pull back then my index finger to press down. i use my little finger to stabilise the syringe. 

when i’m injecting in my feet/legs etc, i still only use 1 hand. i have seen people use both...i have no idea why. it just gets messy. you want to be an anchor. you want to insert the needle slowly & then after injecting, pull it out extremely slowly at exactly the same angle you inserted it. otherwise you will bruise. i use my right hand to inject in my feet & my left hand to pull the skin to stabilise the vein. then after i inject anywhere, i immediately grab paper towel & press down hard on the wound for multiple minutes. then i cover it with a plaster. 

i’m not sure if you’re female like me, but it can be hard to get a vein. women naturally have more fat & different types of fat than men. my arms are pretty thin but i still have fat in certain areas & it means the veins can roll. i often get around this by pressing my arms into my legs to hold them in place. some areas (like the backs of your arms) are extremely difficult to get & i don’t recommend them at first (i still struggle after 5 years of daily banging up). if you have a friend or partner that uses, you can ask them to hold the skin in place. don’t let them bang up for you though...their technique could be dangerous or harmful. & also, if you always let them do it & you get addicted, they might be out & you won’t be able to get well. you should learn to do it yourself in a safe way if you’re gonna do it. 

avoiding arteries: once again, this can depend on body type. they say the arteries are much deeper, but i can see them on my skin. they can really catch you out. i’m not gonna tell you about different types/colours of blood bc it can vary by person & by vein/artery. however what i notice about arteries is the blood shoots up the side of the needle extremely fast. if you try injecting, you’ll feel a bit of pressure. this is telling you to stop. if you still continue, you’ll most likely feel an awful electric saw style pain. it is like a shock to the system. if you feel this, immediately take the needle out & press down with paper towel on the site. it should be fine, but if it doesn’t stop bleeding, seek medical attention. HOWEVER not all arteries are painful. i have made this mistake. 2 of mine on each forearm are not. this just means no matter where you are, inject slowly. you will feel the gear. if you do not, you’ll see the site start to blister. hopefully this can save you a trip to a&e. 

missing: sometimes you’ll slip out of a vein & you’ll miss. you’ll feel pain, it’ll be a sort of blunt pain not like an electric saw. pull back again...oh woops you’re out. DON’T dig around trying to find it again. that can rly hurt your veins. just pull back & try somewhere else. if you get it again on the way back, you can try again. just don’t dig. if you miss, you might see a lump under your skin. if you’re only using gear, not crack/coke, you’ll be fine. put a plaster & hot compress on it. take care of it & use a medicated cream. if you’re snow/speedballing, you’re at risk of an abcess. i can’t help you too much there bc i’ve never snowballed. 

using with someone else: you should have separate everything! do not share water, spoons, filters, swabs, definitely not needles. colour coded needles are very useful but if your needle exchange doesn’t do them, then you can mark them with pen or sit in different areas of the room. sit in the same room/area just so you can be ready with naloxone if you need it. naloxone should be given out through any needle exchange. you can get injection ones & nasal spray ones. they have instructions with them & you should go through a small training thing in order to use it. 

finally, needle gauges. i use 29g all over. it’s the smallest complete they offer. this is bc i have small veins. men may use 27g, which is a slightly larger gauge (the numbers go backwards). at our needle exchange, they don’t make detachables smaller than 27g. so i don’t use detachables. you’ll wanna go with 27 or 29 for arm veins, or 29 or 30/31 (if they do them) for hands & feet. apparently you should use a different longer needle for your femoral vein. i do not use it so i can’t tell you which one it is & i highly recommend not using your femoral. i’ve known people that have lost legs from hitting the artery there. 

be safe, be clean, be careful. it’s kinda my motto. i’ve been banging up for 5 years, never had an abcess, infection or overdose (touch wood lol). do it yourself so you can do it right. & just don’t be an idiot & bang up with flavoured water or crack rocks that have been in gauze or use lemon juice instead of vit c (can make you go blind) or share needles. these are all things ppl i know do. i feel like you have to go out of your way to be unsafe. but i feel for you if you don’t have a good needle exchange near you. i would advise not banging up at all if this is the case. 

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 12: Devotion of Flesh

Warnings: blood/gore, sexual themes, strong language, nipple play, needles, body modification

Summary: After finding out about a certain type of piecing, Heisenberg won’t rest until he can fulfill a new dream.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

This is a shorter chapter, but fear not the next few chapters will have plot/smut and everything else my lovelies

Heisenberg was settled between her legs, his chest over her abdomen as he played with Juniper’s breasts. His eyes were focused, pressing the soft flesh together just to watch it bounce back.

Juniper giggled, “Like them that much?”

“Mhm.” He rumbled, inching up her body just enough to press his face into the warm softness.

She ran her fingers through his unruly hair. She almost drifted, relaxing from the gentle massages and his heat, until a jolt of pleasure rippled through her.

She gasped the sound of surprise drawing into a small moan.

Heisenberg lathed his tongue over her hard nipple, the other still in his grasp as he kneaded it like a happy cat.

She arched a bit, his exploring licks evolving. His mouth latched onto her, sucking feverishly, spurred on by her increasingly desperate moans.

He felt her lower section tremble a bit, getting what little contact it could rubbing against his stomach.

He chuckled into her flesh, pushing himself down on her harder. He trapped her, only allowing her relief on his terms.

Pulling his mouth free with a wet pop, his face split smugly up at her.

Juniper’s face flushed as she met his gaze, her eyes narrowing.

Before she could speak he twirled her now glistening nipple between two fingers, his smile becoming more wolffish the more she squirmed.

“I like them because they’re so damn sensitive.” He licked his lips, voice low and husky.

Taking a breath to regain composure Juniper huffed out, “They’re sensitive because you suck them raw!”

Heisenberg shrugged, dipping his head back down to give attention to the opposite nipple, grazing his teeth ever so slightly.

Juniper jolted, trying to free herself from under him. Without breaking his mouth away he grabbed onto her sides possessively, sucking harder as she tried to escape.

“K-Karl!” She let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, feeling him rumble with delight at her struggles.

“You're like a damn fish!” He finally broke his mouth free, amusement thick in his tone.

Heisenberg rolled over, pulling Juniper with him as he went, flipping their positions. Now on top Juniper shifted into a more comfortable position.

She gave a breathy giggle as she squeezed her thighs around his hips.

“You know,” Juniper straightened, cupping her breasts, “some women back where I’m from had nipple piercings.”

Heisenberg's eyes narrowed with curiosity, a spark ignited in their depths.

Juniper nodded, seeing his interest, “They would put little rings or bars though them.”

His lips curled into a devilish smile, reaching up to rub his thumbs over her nipples. “I could get my hands on some surgical steel. We could do that.”

Juniper’s face flushed. “I couldn’t!” She exclaimed, slight fear in her eyes.

“Oh, Doll.” The smile didn’t leave his lips, “Think of all the fun we could have.”

She covered her face, “All the fun you would have!” Seeing his eagerness ever growing she added, “You’ll have to convince me.”

“I can be convincing.” Heisenberg rolled his hips a bit, adding, “Persuasive too.”

And persuasive he was. Juniper was usually the one ever full of questions, but she ignited a deep curiosity in Heisenberg.

Day in and out he would randomly ask for more information: What did they use, how did they do it, how common was it?

Everything spilled from his lips with excitement. Whatever answers she gave he made a mental note of. Secretly, he collected the proper materials when he could.

After a week of pestering the Duke and going through piles and piles of metal he was able to scrape together everything he needed.

He looked over his spoils. He had managed to get a pair of steel piercer's clamps and a hollow needle from the Duke. Now the bars themselves he had to make.

He had drawn up schematics to match what Juniper described, taking her size into consideration. Finding titanium and building a special furnace to properly cast them, he finally had a set that he was sure would treat her well.

Now his biggest trial was before him: convincing Juniper.

~

“Come on Buttercup.” Heisenberg hugged Juniper from behind, “It’ll be quick, then after you’re all healed we’ll have lots of fun.”

“You’ll have fun.” She grumped crossing her arms.

He swayed back and forth, “I know you’re sensitive, imagine if I could play with you from across the room?”

She made a little sound.

“Want me to beg?” He rubbed his beard into her neck.

Juniper’s skin prickled with goosebumps at the rough sensation, she tried to push him away.

She escaped his grasp, turning to look him over with narrow eyes.

“Yes.” She finally spoke.

“Hm?”

“Beg.” Her voice was low, her eyes piercing.

Her tone made his lips curl, she didn’t often take the upper hand.

Heisenberg licked his teeth, knowing he made this bed.

“Please, buttercup.” He tried to sound sincere, “I really want you to do it.”

Juniper was going to milk this, she looked him up and down, “On your knees.”

Heisenberg shot her a warning look. He bared his teeth ever so slightly, starting to lose his composure, “You’re really busting my balls over this Doll.”

Juniper leaned back against the counter, “And? Do you want to put metal in my nipples or not?”

She looked at him expectantly.

When he saw she wouldn’t relent from her request he slowly lowered to one knee, disdain in every movement.

He sighed out, gritting his teeth before speaking, “You would make me really fucking happy if you let me pierce your nipples….please?”

“Alright.” Juniper agreed but added, “On one condition.”

“Come on.” Heisenberg huffed out, standing.

When she didn’t back down he cursed then asked, “What is it?”

“You have to do something for me.” Juniper asked, “Any one thing I ask of you, whenever I decide to ask it.”

“One thing?”

“One that you can’t deny.”

He mulled it over, eyes flicking to the side.

“Fine.” He agreed.

~

The next morning Heisenberg got to work, down in the belly of the factory most of the morning. He excitedly came up to retrieve Juniper, dragging her down to one of the surgery rooms.

He let go of her arm, seeing her taking cautious steps. She was tense, looking down at her feet. He saw her bite her lips every so often.

Heisenberg squeezed her hand reassuringly, drawing her farther into the room. In an attempt to put her at ease he started to speak.

“Look here, I did it on myself first ok.” He lifted his shirt for her to see. There was a bandage over his left nipple. He peeled it back to show that he did indeed pierce himself earlier that day.

“You actually did it.” She sounded almost dumbfounded.

“Well yea.” He shrugged.

“Only the one?”

“Mhm.” He rumbled.

“It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to do it without knowing how it would be.” He smoothed the bandage back over, “And now I know how much pressure to use and all that shit.”

“Such a gentleman.” Juniper walked past him, looking over the area he had prepared.

“I have sanitized the chair, table and all the tools. I've also got you some whiskey and ice to dull the pain.” He showed her each thing in turn, offering her the chair. It looked like the most clean thing in the room.

He was taking this all much more seriously than she expected.

“Your throne.” He strode behind the chair, opening his arms to either side of it.

Juniper took her top off, sitting in the chair. She took a deep breath, trying to ease her nerves.

“Here doll.” Heisenberg smiled, handing her a shot of whiskey.

“Thanks.” Juniper knocked it back, grimacing as the alcohol burned her throat. She held the empty cup out to him expectantly.

He cocked a brow, chuckling, “Give the first one a fucking second.”

She let him take the glass, sitting back in the chair. She watched him intently as he picked up some ice and the clamps.

Heisenberg set to work.

He was quick and efficient,  using the perfect amount of force to pierce the hollow needle through the bit of flesh held in the clamp.

Juniper whimpered, keeping her eyes clamped shut.

“Good girl.” Heisenberg soothed, placing the small barbell of steel into one end of the needle, feeding it through.

“All done with one.” He smiled, “Ready for the other one?”

Juniper gave a quick little nod. He held the ice to her nipple, pride swelling in him. She was being so brave and doing it all for him. Juniper was so perfect in his eyes, her devotion to him continuing to surprise him.

After both nipples were successfully pierced Heisenberg grabbed a bottle of healing salve, gingerly applying to the swollen flesh.

“You can open your eyes now.” He chuckled.

Juniper blinked down at her chest, seeing the news body jewelry.

“They’re pretty.” She gave a weak smile.

“Damn right.” He got the bandages, kneeling before her once more.

He covered the wounds, seeing her wince a bit.

 

He stood back, pleased. He helped her stand as he spoke, “Come on, let’s go make you forget all about that pain sweetheart.”

She looked at narrowly, causing him to bark with laughter. “You’ll be on pillow princess duty.” Heisenberg soothed.

(Disclaimer: Do not try to pierce your nipples at home or if not properly trained)

[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (end)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays. You know who your soulmate is. It’s Robin. The vigilante. The crime-fighter and protector of Gotham who runs along side the Dark Knight himself – Batman. And you’re still you. This couldn’t possibly work, could it?

Notes: I did not expect my last fic to gain as much popularity as it had, and I am so thankful. @grincheveryday said there had to be a part 2, and although I wasn’t planning on it – I relented. And now here we are, with part 2.

Anyway, thank you again so much for the lovely comments. I hope you guys enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Metropolis. The convention was to be held in Metropolis. The city of Superman! I was more than excited when the school informed us, and it turned out that Lex Corp. was sponsoring our transport and accommodations.

Gotham Academy instructed us to pack a week’s worth. The actual event was going to run for a total of one week. 3 days to try and impress during the showcase. After that they scheduled a meeting for students and companies who were interested in internships and mentoring, which would last another 2 days. On the last day Wayne Ent. promised a gala to finish off with a bang.

“Oh, my baby is growing up.” Mom said as she helped me pack.

“It’ll only be a week, mom. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” I laughed.

It was a decent trip going to the big city of Metropolis. What I noticed first were the clean streets and bright colours. The sun was actually out of the clouds (something that only happened a handful of times during the year back at Gotham). There was a lot of excited chatter on the bus as soon as we entered.

“Alright children, you know the rules. Keep close and stay in sight.” Our science professor spoke up over the murmurs.

“Ah, Gotham Academy I’m presuming!” A boisterous voice caught our attention and successfully made us all quiet.

It was Mr. Lex Luthor.

“Mr. Luthor, it’s an honour. May I just say on behalf of our school we’d like to thank you for the generous hospitality.”

“The honour is mine.” He replied to our guide and professor as he shook her hand. “With such young and brilliant minds, how can I refuse?”

It felt surreal to be there. To be meeting with one of the most famous inventors and businessmen on the planet. I thought about pinching myself but if this was a dream, I didn’t want it to end.

We were ushered into the building that we were going to be staying at for the next week. It looked amazing on the inside just as it did on the outside. The receptionist smiled warmly at us when we entered. As the adults talked about where to place us, my schoolmates and I were left in a waiting area with large, soft sofas. I sighed in delight thinking this day couldn’t get any better.

The briefing was short, and we were sent to our rooms to freshen up before dinner. If I thought the lounge was awesome, the bedrooms were 5 times more. The walls were cream in colour, and the furniture’s light tan tint complimented the aesthetic. Two queen sized beds since were to stay in pairs. Bright yellow flowers on beautifully painted vases stood on each of our bedside tables.

I took the bed closest to the window, and placed my bags on the floor. My roommate didn’t mind as she unzipped her suitcase and began to make herself at home. As we shuffled around placing our belongings in their respective areas, I couldn’t help but wonder if Robin would be here. It was a million to one chance since many schools from Gotham were involved, but still, I hoped.

You don’t even who he is, or even how he looks like under that mask — my inner muse said pointedly. I sighed, knowing it was right.

That evening I opted to go to the dining hall a little earlier than expected. I didn’t have any friends around, since it was limited to one student per section. So I found myself alone sitting on a table with my name printed all fancy on a card. I sighed, pulling out my phone and going over the slides of my presentation for the invention.

“Good evening.” A presence alerted me and I fumbled as my phone slipped from my hands.

They caught it in one swoop.

I looked up and found myself face to face with a pair of clear forest green eyes.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Damian Wayne.” His tone was clipped as he handed me my phone, like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

I swallowed thickly, I’m sure I looked flustered, he seemed like he was in a bad mood. Quickly clearing my throat I took my phone from him and introduced myself as quickly as I could.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said stiffly and sat down beside me.

There must’ve been a mistake on the placement of the name cards. Usually they would assign our seats in accordance to our sections. Mine should be at the last... and oh my god his name is next to mine?!  How did I not notice this???

“The - the pleasure is mine.” I said nervously and tucked my phone back in my pocket.

I may not be part of any of his (or his brothers’) fan club, but I wasn’t living under a rock. Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne; the one who organised this entire endeavour. The son of a multi-billionaire business man. The prince of Gotham! What in the world was he doing here — next to me?!

There was a painfully thick awkward silence between us, or maybe it's just me — I bit my lip and looked everywhere else in the room but the boy who was sitting beside me.

Taking deep breaths to calm myself down, I noticed a pleasant aroma in the air. I must’ve missed it after our surprising introductions, but his perfume smelled good. It wasn’t a scent I would normally smell nowadays, but I immediately recognised it.

“Arabian oud.” I said out loud. Unintentionally mind you, to which I mentally facepalmed.

I quickly covered my mouth and apologised. Great, now he’ll think you’re a creep, way to go.

“Yeah.” Damian cocked a brow at me and narrowed his eyes. “It is, not many people know.”

“My dad. He liked those kinds of scents. Came a cross it one time during a case he was working on. I guess it grew on me too.”

Talking about my dad to a complete stranger, it was nerve wrecking but at the same time the memory calmed me, and the scent dancing between us only lulled me further into memory lane.

“It sticks better than regular perfume.” He said nonchalantly.

I had to giggle at that. “Well you get what you pay for.” He scoffed, and I reminded myself that this guy was probably rolling in money every day.

There was silence again, but this time a little less awkward. I still hoped everyone would be here soon though.

My wish was granted. Not five minutes later, the room started to get filled. Everyone took their respective places and made quick chatter. Damian and I stayed quiet though. Perhaps his friends weren’t able to come either, well we had that in common.

Damian was introduced to us before the waiters served our food. Apparently he wasn’t part of the convention but because Wayne Ent. was the one sponsoring, Mr. Wayne deemed it necessary for him to make an appearance.

I sighed to myself and looked around, this really was nothing like I expected it to be.

-x-x-x-

Dinner was delicious. Everyone was happily stuffed and ready for bed. Everyone but me. I couldn’t relax after sitting next to Damian the whole night. I felt his stares multiple times but every time I try to catch him I fail.

As soon as we were done an old man wearing formal attire came to pick him up. Didn’t know where to, but I heard “father” and “penthouse”. Rich kids...

Maybe it was just me who was getting a little paranoid. Maybe it was because of all the rumours I heard of how fan clubs treat other girls who even dared to talk to him other than a polite hi or wave. I shuddered at the thought. Our professor was droning on about the rules (again) and the importance of the buddy system. I briefly wondered if I could sneak out for a small walk around the block or something to release some energy.

And that was exactly where I found myself later that evening. I managed to pass the receptionist and walk a couple of minutes around the area. Not too far, the hotel was still in view. There were people around minding their own business, which was new for me since around this time in Gotham, everyone would be at home. The crisp air felt good, and I was finally able to relax. It was too stuffy being next to him. His smell, it reminded me too much of dad. The memory made a lump form in my throat.

I looked up at the starless sky and blinked back tears. Mom said he’d be proud, I wanted to believe it was true.

“Aw little girl. Why so upset?”

I whirled around and saw a man all dressed in baggy black clothes inch closer at me. “How about you come with me and I can make you feel all better.”

I took a step back as my heart started to race. This was probably not the best idea, even though this was Superman’s City, it didn’t mean crime didn’t exist.

A heavy hand gripped tightly at my shoulder and I realised with utter dread that I was surrounded. Only one way to run and it was through the alley. Every instinct in me shouted that it would be a really bad idea, first off I didn’t know the place, and if I just ran I could very well get lost.

But the grip on my shoulder was worse than anything I could’ve imagined at the moment.

“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t ya.” Another man came in and slid his hands across my cheek before covering my mouth.

His breath smelled of alcohol and smoke. It made me gag.

“I’ve got some great ideas on what I can do with you.” He snickered and dropped his other hand lower onto my chest. I gasped in fear.

No, this isn’t happening.

They pushed me further into the alley, away from prying eyes, and into to the shadows. The man started to grope my waist and hips.

This isn’t happening!

I wanted to fight back, wanted to bite his hand and shout, but my body was frozen. I was in shock. My inner voice was yelling at me to do something, to do anything! But fear clasped me tight and hard.

Then he forced his dirt calloused hand under my shirt and touched my breast.

That snapped me out of it.

With a sense of need to survive I dug my elbow into the man who was holding me and shoved the one in front with as much force as I could muster, exactly how dad taught me. They grunted in pain, and their hold on me lifted. I bolted down the dimly lit passage as soon as I was free.

But they didn’t stop. They called after me, swearing and cursing slurs as they ran. Their footsteps echoed along the tight alley. How many of them were there? 4?

They chanted along what they were planning on doing with me once they catch me. It was horrible. My throat tightening in disgust. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how their minds worked. The tears were beginning to fall as every turn I took only lead deeper into the maze.

I kept running, taking quick sharp turns in the hopes to loose them. I refused to go like this. But my heart plummeted as soon as I faced a dead end.

They were all laughing at my demise, taking their time to get to me so the fear really soaked in. They strolled and taunted. Taking out their ropes and knives from their coat pockets.

“This was a really stupid idea...” I whimpered to myself, wiping my wet cheeks furiously as I did.

“No shit.” I instantly recognised the voice. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”

A figure dropped in front of me, clad in familiar colours. I felt my knees go weak and a new wave of tears started to fall. I sobbed in relief.

Robin pulled out his katana and growled at the men.

“Do not touch her.” He spat at them.

“Robin? But isn’t he supposed to be with the Bat?” One of them questioned, but he was outright ignored.

Their leader, the one who groped me, laughed. A loud barking sort of laughter.

“Don’t touch her?” He mimicked. “But I already have. Must say, she’s quite soft.” He leered at me, I could feel him undressing me with his eyes and I instantly clutched my jacket tighter.

“Bastard!” Robin shouted and threw himself into battle.

They didn’t look worried though.

“You’re just a boy!” They yelled at him as they aimed to kill.

It didn’t phase him as he attacked with the same precision as he did before. Their bullets were evaded with his quick movements. I protected my head with my arms and dashed behind a corner full of crates.

“Excuse me.”

I turned to the person next to me.

He offered a smile, and I noticed his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was hovering over the air.

“Quit stalling Superboy!” Robin grunted. “Take her someplace safe!”

“You heard him.” He told me, and carried me bridal style before flying away.

I clutched on to him as the ground became further and further away.

“Wait — what about Robin?” My voice sounded weak but I didn’t want to just leave him behind.

Superboy looked at me and grinned. “He’ll be okay.”

He set me down on the roof of a building just above the fight.

“Can you wait here a moment? We’ll be right back.”

He looked a few years older, dressed in his father’s colors and symbol proudly plastered on the middle of his chest.

I managed a small nod before he zipped back down and joined the fight. With a bit more courage I peered down and watched as they bravely fought the men. Superboy withheld from using his lasers too much, I suppose since they were in such an enclosed space. Robin on the other hand looked like he was putting everything he had out there.

It ended quite fast, with the men tied up in a rope. Robin seemed to be talking to Superboy, the metahuman nodded once and pointed up where I was standing. I quickly looked away and walked back.

A grappling hook shot up before hooking itself to the side of the building. Robin swung forward and landed gracefully in front of me. He looked angry.

I tried not to look at him straight in the eye, hoping to make myself smaller.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, his voice filled with concern but still laced with a little venom.

I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, I felt so ashamed, and so used. I felt dirty.

“He touched me...” I chocked out, trying to keep the tears at bay and failing.

Robin clenched his fists.

“What were you doing outside at this hour?”

“I - I just wanted to take a walk. I didn’t - it wasn’t -“ I was shaking. All I wanted to do was go back home and hide under my covers.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I heard him walk up to me and hold my chin, turning it towards him as he wiped the tears.

“Stop crying.” He said. “You’re safe now.”

Not being able to help it, I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. I wasn’t an overly physical type of person but I needed something solid, something safe, to clutch on to after what just happened. I wished my mom was here, but then I also didn’t since all this would do would only worry her more. I dreaded the fact that I needed to tell her what happened. But for now I just breathed in and out, trying to calm myself. Robins arms slowly encircled me, and he patted my shoulder awkwardly.

Wait — this smell…

Arabian oud.

I tensed, and pushed back. Robin looked a little confused at the suddenly change but loosened the hug.

My heart started to race as I looked up at his face. No way, there has to be hundreds with the same perfume, right? I couldn’t, or rather didn’t want to believe it. Was it really him under this mask? I wish I could give myself an answer but I was terrified of what I would find if I looked. I was both mad yet relieved that I didn’t look too closely at his face during dinner or else it might be too easy to pick apart his features. The mask only hid so much. I must’ve been eyeing him for too long because Robin gave me a questioning look.

“I -“ I quickly put a slight distance between us and cleared my throat, hoping the heat on my cheeks would cool down, and my head to stop spinning. “Sorry, and thank you! I... probably should get back.” I finished lamely.

The time it took us to get from where we were to the hotel was filled with silence. I made sure not to make eye contact for too long and when I had to I made sure to ignore everything else. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to piece the puzzle together... It felt risky. I thanked him again, and asked him to thank Superboy.

Sneaking back into my room was a lot more difficult that sneaking out. Thankfully my roommate and I had separate keys so going in was a breeze. She was already asleep when I got there much to my relief. I headed straight to the shower, eager to scrub off the mans filthy hold on me. I grimaced as I caught my reflection in the mirror, my skin was bright red from all the scrubbing and my eyes were puffy. I sniffed and looked away.

I didn’t sleep that night, not well anyway, but that was to be expected.

...

...

... to be continued ...

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Brother’s Best Friend

Title: Brother’s Best Friend

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4031

Square Filled: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Dean and Sam’s best friend, Y/N, has never gotten along. It isn’t until reality sets in, that she shows up at Sam and Dean’s shared apartment in the middle of the night. Sam’s not home, she’s in tears, and despite Dean’s hate towards her, he’s too soft to turn her the other way. So what happens next?

Warnings: Dean being a dick, Reader being a Sassy Bitch, Angst, Mentions of Cheating, Arguing, Vulnerable!Reader, Explicit Language, Mentions of Alcohol Use, Fluff, Comforting!Dean, Sexual Tension, Making Out, and Implied Future Smut.

Written for: @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Not my gif.

A/N: This started out as an idea, and then it quickly became this whole fic! And what are the odds, it also filled a square for my SPN Dean Bingo Card! I love when that happens! Haha. I really hope you guys like this one! Happy Reading all you gorgeous MoFos! Love ya! Xx

Sam was making a late lunch when Dean returned home, however, his little brother wasn’t alone. Dean rolled his eyes when he saw Y/N sitting at the table, laughing at something Sam had said. When she made eye contact with him, her joyous expression quickly morphed into one of distaste. The change in her features didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, making him glance back, finding Dean standing at the doorway, shrugging off his leather jacket and hooking it on the coat hanger.

“Hey, Dean!” Sam quipped, attempting to keep the vibes in the room light. Every time Dean and Y/N were in the same room, things tended to turn sour really quick.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Dean snapped.

Yup. Really quick.

Y/N was Sam’s best friend from college. They met during orientation and had been friends ever since. Throughout their college careers, Sam had told bountiful tales of his brother, all of which made Dean out to be this impressive, and in turn, intimidating character. Y/N used to get nervous whenever she’d think about one day meeting him; but before Sam had the change to properly introduce them to each other, they had already crossed paths once at a bar, which didn’t turn out so well.

Y/N was at Crossroad’s bar with her boyfriend and a few of their mutual friends, enjoying each other’s company and having a few drinks, when an attractive man (who she would find out later to be Sam’s legendary brother) caught her eye. She watched him flirt his way through girl after girl, shamelessly eating each other’s face. She was disgusted. She thought to herself that a man like that couldn’t possibly “clean.”

As the night grew older, her friends eventually called it a night and left. It wasn’t until they were all gone that she realized her boyfriend, Gordon, was no where to be found. As she scanned around the bar for him, Dean stumbled upon her table, noticing she was alone, and taking a chance.

“Hey there Sweetheart,” Dean grinned. “Can I buy you another drink?” He pointed to her empty glass.

“No thanks, but please, help yourself to all the other women in the bar that you have yet to exchange saliva with,” she smiled back, not impressed with his attempt to flirt with her. “I see a select few who seem quite parched.”

“Well, good luck getting a boyfriend with that attitude,” Dean retorted, his mood quickly plummeting.

“For your information, I already have one. And he’s not some arrogant play boy,” she hissed.

“Oh yeah? Then where is Mr. Perfect?” Dean challenged, a smug look on his face. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“He’s probably in the restroo—,” she paused when she caught sight of her boyfriend making out with some redhead. Dean followed her gaze and scoffed. It was his chuckling that brought her attention back to him.

“That your boyfriend over there with that red-headed chick? Yeah, he’s definitely a keeper,” Dean muttered, tone filled with sarcasm and venom, before walking away. Dean knew that what he said was a dick move on his part, but if she hadn’t been such a bitch to him, he most likely would have stayed to console her, but in the moment, Dean thought she deserved it for calling him a playboy when her – so called “Mr. Perfect” boyfriend – was making out with some random chick behind her back.

“Oh, c’mon Dean. Can’t you guys just make up and get along? For me?” Sam pouted at his big brother and best friend.

“Hey, I haven’t kicked her out yet, have I?” Dean replied.

Sam rolled his eyes before placing a sandwich one each of the plates set up on the tiny dining table. “Whatever. I made lunch,” Sam pointed to the empty seat beside Y/N, gesturing his older brother to sit.

Majority of their lunch was eaten in tension-filled silence before Dean opened his mouth. “So, Y/N,” he began, causing Y/N to inwardly groan at what ever he was going to throw her way, “how is Mr. Perfect doing?” He grinned cheekily.

“Dean!” Sam chided with his mouth full.

“What? I’m just asking an honest question. She’s the one who went back to him after catching him cheating on her, so he must be packing somethin’, am I right?”

“Gordon is doing fine, thanks for asking,” she sassed back. Dean always liked to ask that question, just so he could rub it in her face, bringing back the memory of the first time they met.

“That’s great. Haven’t caught him with another girl since that night?”

“Dean…” Sam scolded again.

“You’re a dick, you know that,” she barked, slamming her sandwich back on her plate.

“I may be a dick, but at least I can say that I’m not a cheater. Sure, I like to have fun, but I always make sure the girl I’m with knows that what’s going on isn’t exclusive and that it’s a no strings attached kind of deal. And when I do have a girlfriend, I’m all there for her,” Dean confessed, “one hundred percent.”

Y/N gave Dean the stink eye before glancing over at Sam for confirmation. Sam nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s true,” Sam agreed, “Dean’s pretty straight forward. And when he’s actually with someone, he’s faithful and loyal all the way through.”

“Whatever,” Y/N growled under her breath, but loud enough for Dean and Sam to hear.

Dean held a triumphant look on his face as he finished his sandwich. “Well, if you fellas will excuse me, I’ve got a hot date with… Clarissa,” he sang.

“Seriously? But you just got home,” Sam chastised.

“What can I say? The chicks love me.” With that said, Dean disappeared into his room to get ready.

“I can’t believe he’s your brother,” Y/N groaned, picking her food up and taking a unattractively large bite.

Two Days Later…

It was well passed midnight and Dean was sound asleep when there was a knock at the front door. The first set went unheard. It wasn’t until the second series of knuckles against wood that he peeked his eyes open, unsure if he’d heard that or just imagined it. As he was about to fall back asleep, the knocking came again, causing him to groan in annoyance. He flipped his body onto his other side, trying to get comfortable and ignore whoever was at the door, hoping that they would take the hint and leave.

The knocking started up again, this time not letting up. The constant banging eventually got him out of bed, stomping out of his room in nothing but his boxers, and to the front door. “Who the fuck?” Dean growled as he undid all three locks, the one on the knob, the deadlock, followed by the chain.

“What?” He snapped as he yanked the door open. His eyes narrowed, and brows furrowed deeper when he saw Y/N standing in front of him. “Sam’s not here,” he gritted before slamming the door on her face. As he was about to turn and leave, he heard her sob from behind the wooden barrier, causing his body to go stiff. “Fuck,” he droned, knowing that if she was crying, he couldn’t leave her out there. Seconds later, guilt swarmed his insides and he cursed under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”

Sighing deeply, Dean turned and opened the door again, this time a lot gentler. He scanned her up and down, noticing she was in her business attire. She looked a little disheveled. Her hair was falling out of the bun she had it in, her cheeks were red, and her eyes were slightly swollen with tears streaming down her face.

“Come in,” Dean instructed, voice softer and lighter than earlier.

She did as she was told without any hesitation and sat on the couch, her face buried in her hands and body trembling. As she cried alone, Dean went into his room, grabbing a few things before returning to the living room.

“Here,” he said, tossing a towel, a spare toothbrush (still in the plastic), and one of his shirts, beside her. “Get cleaned up and then we’ll talk, okay?”

Y/N looked up at him with a surprised look, but didn’t say anything. Her eyes, on it’s own accord, travelled down Dean’s body, finally noticing for the first time, that he was only clad in his boxer briefs. Dean cleared his throat at her wondering eyes and she quickly snapped her head back up at him. She nodded her head and grabbed everything he’d given her and made her way to the bathroom. Dean retreated into his room, throwing on sweatpants before going back to wait for her on the couch, now completely awake.

When she walked out, the first thing Dean noticed was the way she looked in his shirt. It was practically a dress on her, stopping mid thigh. A light blush dusted across his star-freckled cheeks. There was no denying that she looked good in his clothes, and with her long hair wet and dripping, it only made her all the more delectable, but now wasn’t the time to be having those sort of thoughts.

With the towel in her hands, she walked over to Dean, standing in front of him like a wounded animal. Dean stood up, towering over her and grabbed the towel, tossing it over her head to help her dry her hair. As he did, Y/N started to cry again, taking a step closer to Dean and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. The gesture made him stiffen, unsure of what to do, but eventually, he relaxed in her hold, using one hand to rub her back while the other cupped her head against his chest.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dean whispered, removing the towel from her now messy mop of a head and tossing it onto the coffee table. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Dean waiting for any kind of reply. When she said, or did, nothing, he maneuvered her down to the couch, sitting beside her. “Wanna talk about it?” He asked, his arm draped over her shoulder as she leaned into him.

“He… I caught… that—that bastard… he cheat—, my bed…” she managed to stammer out between ragged cries.

“Hey, c’mon. Breathe. Calm down. I can’t understand you if you don’t calm down. Breath and tell me what happened,” he encouraged, trying to get her to settle a bit.

“Gordon… he—” Her voice caught in her throat.

“He what, Y/N? What did Gordon do?” Dean’s voice was low and deep, which Y/N found soothing.

“He cheated on me,” she answered, barely a whisper. “I—I called him earlier to tell him that I was going to be working late at the firm, that I’d be home around two a.m. but I managed to get out by midnight, and when I got home… I caught him with another girl in our bed… in my bed! It’s my apartment,” you sniffed before breaking down again.

“Hey, shh,” Dean leaned back against the couch, wrapping both arms around her. When she finally calmed down, Dean pulled away slightly. “Why don’t you get some sleep? You can crash on the couch, or in Sam’s room if you want. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. I think he’d prefer that option best.”

Y/N shook her head. “I—I don’t want to be a-alone,” she confessed, looking up at Dean with her sad, tear-glossed, eyes.

Dean gulped, knowing this was going to be a bad idea, but offered anyways. “Wanna crash with me in my room?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate or show any sign of discomfort in Dean’s proposal and nodded in affirmation. Dean stood up, reaching his hand out for her. Her hand fell into place, her small one fitting perfectly in his expansive palm as he pulled her alone with him. Her grip tightened instinctively, almost like a child not wanting to get lost from their parents in room full of people. Dean’s heart pounded against his chest. That was a new feeling for him. He and Y/N had never shared an exchange this… soft. They were always arguing, always at odd ends, always putting each other down.

Dean shut his bedroom door behind him, letting Y/N crawl under the covers first. He watched her curl into herself before pulling the covers off on his side and getting in. He turned his back towards her, in attempt to put some boundaries and give her some space. Also it helped control his new found urges.

He wanted to hold her, comfort her, feel her against him. But this was Y/N he was thinking about. She didn’t like him, and he didn’t like her… yeah… he didn’t like her. Besides, she was in too much of a vulnerable state for him to put any kind of move on her. It wouldn’t be right.

Finally closing his eyes, he felt Y/N move behind him and suddenly, her body was pressed against his back, her arms wrapping themselves around his stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice muffled from her face buried in his back. “You were right. I couldn’t keep my boyfriend, and he was cheating on me. He’s always been cheating on me. You were right all along,” she confessed, her voice cracking again as she began to cry. “I must really fucking suck.”

Dean felt guilty. Sure, he and Y/N weren’t exactly friends, but he’d never wish this sort of heartbreak on his worst enemy. And yes, he’s told her she wouldn’t be able to keep a boyfriend and that Gordon was probably sleeping around because she had a constant stick up her ass, but he never meant any of those things. He was only trying to hurt her ego the same way she did his whenever she called him a, “pussy afraid of commitment,” a “playboy,” or when she would tell him that he’d “forever be alone.”

Twisting in her arms so he was facing her, Dean pulled her into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her shoulders. “Stop. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, I never meant any of the things I’ve said,” Dean admitted. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve this kind of pain… this kind of betrayal. That jackass didn’t deserve you.”

“No. You were right. I know you hate me. Despite you being so nice to me now, whether you just feel sorry for me or not, you’re probably eating it up. The Great Dean Winchester is always right.”

“Seriously, stop,” Dean commanded, pushing her slightly away from him, just enough so that his emerald eyes could meet hers. “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, gazing into his gorgeous eyes. She blinked, letting a stray tear slide down the side of her face and seep into the sheets, as her eyes fell to Dean’s lips. His eyes did the same, finding a strong urge to kiss her, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not like this. Not when she was weak.

“C’mon, rest up. We’ll talk in the morning.” Dean pulled her back into his chest, allowing her to snuggle up closer. She took a deep breath, letting his scent put her at ease, before letting out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” she replied, quickly falling asleep.

Dean woke up with his face buried against something soft. He moaned in approval, pressing his face deeper into it. His hands graced over something smooth, warm, and soft, clutching tighter in it’s comfort. When a high pitched moan rang through his ears, his eyes snapped open just as the memories of hours earlier slammed back to him like a freight train.

His grip loosened and he pulled his head back only to find himself staring at Y/N covered breasts, and his body tangle with Y/N’s. The blanket was hanging over the edge of the bed, one of her legs were draped over his with her arms around his neck, one hand buried in his short tresses, while the other rested on his chest. Dean definitely couldn’t ignore that the shirt he’d let her borrow had pooled around her waist, her lacy panties in perfect view.

“Son of a bitch,” he grumbled to himself, his morning wood twitching at the sight. He rolled over onto his back, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Disturbed by his movement’s, Y/N moaned in her sleep, cuddling back into Dean’s side, her head resting on his bare chest, as her free arm slithered their way down from his chest, over his stomach, and resting dangerously close to his now throbbing member. She was going to be the death of him.

“Dean,” she called his name. He stiffened, eyes casting over her to see if she was awake, but she wasn’t. “Dean,” she said his name again, this time her eyes fluttering open. She looked in a daze, as if she was still half asleep, and maybe she was.

“Y/N?”

She blinked the sleep away, her eyes coming back to life. “Dean…” she breathed, and before he knew it, her lips were on his. Dean thought about drawing away, but he couldn’t. The feel of her lips against his felt too good to stop. It felt right. His arms guided her on top of him, her legs on either side of his hips. With the new position, the kiss deepened. Dean let out a loud moan into her mouth as she grinded against him, his throbbing cock becoming almost painful.

Reluctantly, Dean found the will to push her away. As much as he didn’t mind being a rebound, he couldn’t do that to Y/N. He couldn’t do that to Sam. Y/N was his best friend, which practically made her off limits.

“Y/N, I can’t. I don’t want to do anything you’re gonna regret,” Dean announced. “Besides, you’re my baby brother’s best friend. I couldn’t do that to him.”

Y/N was about to give a response when they both heard the front door open and shut.

“Dean!” They heard Sam call from outside of his room. “Did Y/N come by last night?” Sam’s bedroom door opened and closed, the force slightly reverberating through the thin walls.

“Shit, shit, shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Dean cursed softly, pushing Y/N off of him, and getting out of bed, trying to hide his raging boner. Y/N did nothing but sit on the bed watching him scurry around his room as he pulled on a shirt and tucked his hard on in the waistband of his sweatpants. When he noticed Y/N just sitting there, he frowned. “What are you doing?”

A smiled spread across her lips right before she started to giggle. Dean’s shirt was inside out and backwards, the tag under his chin, and tucking his boner in his waistband did nothing to hid the fact that he was hard. Not to mention, his lips were kiss-swollen, and she had left a nice little reminded on the pulse of his neck.

“What’s so funny?” Dean queried, his demeanor shifting into something similar to hers.

“You’re a hot mess, right now. Sam’s gonna know you’ve got a girl in here.”

“Yeah, well I’m glad you’re finding his hilarious, but if you don’t think of something quick, he’s gonna find out that you’re in here!” He stated, but it did nothing to sway her thoughts.

“Dean!” Sam shouted again, this time closer to his bedroom door.

Right when Y/N opened her mouth to speak, Dean noticed that his door was left unlocked. He was about to lunge towards the door when it whipped open, and there stood Sam, eyes landing on Dean’s before shifting to Y/N. “You’re fucking kidding, right?” He deadpanned.

“Sam, it’s not what it looks like!” Dean raised his hands in surrender. “I swear. Nothing happened.”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes as he retreated back into the living room, Dean following close behind. “Sammy, seriously. It’s not what you think.” Sam stared at Dean unconvinced. “Fine, we made out a little, but that’s it. I swear. She came over last night, you weren’t here, and when I told her she could crash in your room, she said she didn’t want to be alone, so I offered to be a… to be a… ‘friend.’ And then this morning, things just kind of got… out of hand.”

Y/N walked out, catching Sam’s hazel eyes. “He’s telling the truth,” she assured.

“Y/N, I told you to stay in my room,” Sam directed at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sam, I know, but I really didn’t want to be alone. And Dean was, surprisingly, a real gentleman through it all. If it makes you feel any better, I put the first moves on him,” Y/N revealed.

“Oh god, it really doesn’t make me feel any better,” Sam gagged. “Besides, I thought you two hated each other?”

“I did hate Dean, until he took care of me,” Y/N shrugged. “And for some strange reason, being around him actually really helped get Gordon out of my head.”

“Since we’re all being honest here, I’ve also got a confession to make…” Dean started, “… I never really hated Y/N.” Dean caught her eyes before speaking again. “I was just irritated because she was still with that douche, Gordon Walker. The guy didn’t deserve her. She deserved better, and every time she’d come over talking about some new shit he was doing, it only pissed me the fuck off. I’m sorry Y/N, but that prick doesn’t deserve you.”

“Hold up,” Sam cut in. “Are you telling us that the only reason you’ve been the biggest jerk was because you were jealous?” A smug smirk spread across Sam’s face, while Dean’s eyes widened. He’s been caught. Sam hit it directly on the nose.

“W-what?” Dean stuttered.

“What?!” Y/N gawked, unable to believe what was being said.

“Oh Dean. Big Brother…” Sam teased. “But hey. Think of it this way. Killing two birds with one stone. Dean get’s the girl, and Y/N is no longer with that asshole,” Sam shrugged. “Anyways, since everything is more than good here, I’m gonna head back to Eileen’s place. Remember, be safe! Wrap it before you tap it!” Sam chuckled, reveling in the opportunity to being able to make Dean embarrassed for once. How the tables have turned—”

The door shut behind Sam, leaving Y/N and Dean to stand in awkward silence. “Uh…” Dean attempted to kill the quiet, but failing hard.

“Is it true?” Y/N jumped in. “You were jealous this whole time?” Her eyes landed on his. Dean couldn’t lie to her. Not any more.

“Yeah,” he sighed, figuring there was no point in trying to deny it now. He was thoroughly embarrassed, and he might as well get it over with now rather than later.

“All this time you were being a dick, it was because you were jealous of Gordon…” she repeated, stepping closer Dean until she stood in front of him.

“How couldn’t I be? He didn’t deserve you. You were way too good for him.”

“And who would be better for me? Who deserves someone like me?” Y/N questioned, fishing for a particular response.

“I deserve you,” Dean declared, and before he could say another word, Y/N jumped into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist and her hands tangling themselves in his short locks as her lips assaulted his. Dean didn’t hesitate to hold her close, reciprocating the gesture with just as much heat.

“Now show me what it’s like to be with man who really deserves me,” Y/N cooed as she broke the kiss with an obnoxious smack.

Dean quickly obliged, not hesitating to carrying her back to his bedroom, kicking the door behind him. “Sweetheart, I’ll make sure that no other man will ever make you feel the way I do,” he promised, dropping her on the bed like a rag-doll.

Y/N giggled, spreading her legs wide open. “I’m waiting.”

Dean grinned before jumping on top of her, Y/N squealing with laughter, her heart no long heavy with the loss of Gordon Walker. Why have him when she could have Dean Winchester?

--

A/N: I totally forgot I had this ready to be posted! lol. Sorry I’ve been holding out. Also, sorry that I haven’t been posting lately. 

Liked it? Reblog it, Share it, and Leave some Feedback! I would really appreciate it!!

Say Something Nice Here!!

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 7/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries and death, fighting, swearing, mentions of sexy times, but not smut

Word count: 3337

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

It was like the air had suddenly been sucked out from the world, leaving him a heaving, dizzy mess in the void.    His dad. His old man. The person that was supposed to love him unconditionally but had been abusing him since he was a little kid was the one the Mind Flayer was using as a host.        “I’m gonna kill him,” Billy seethed. “Did he touch you?” he doublechecked every inch of Y/N’s body. “I’m gonna fucking murder him.”        “Billy, he didn’t do anything,” she put a hand on his cheek, and he practically melted, taking in a shuddering breath and nodding. “I didn’t even see him. I’m alright.”        “Was he,” he gestured vaguely around, “you know, possessed when we went to his?”        Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know, but he was by the time that whole thing at Tina’s happened. But Billy… he knows… about Clara. I tried to keep them out of my head but,” her chin wobbled, and Billy had to keep his composure.    “He’s so strong,” Y/N whispered. “Like, not to say what happened to you wasn’t horrible and painful and bad, but he’s,” she shook her head. “He’s so fucking strong. I don’t know how we’re gonna stop him. If we can stop him.”        They thought the Mind Flayer might have evolved, they knew it could, but with the way El had struggled against the small piece inside of Y/N, she couldn’t even imagine what battling against the full force of that thing would be like. 

       “We gotta close the Gate,” Hopper said. “It’s our only option.”        A murmur of agreement spread through the people in the cabin, Billy’s attention still on Y/N as she flinched when she reached for the glass of water Robin had offered. She practically gulped the whole thing in a second. Only then did Billy realize how thirsty he was too, but he could wait.        “Is my mom,” Max’s lip quivered, making Y/N look at her, and Billy reached for his sister's hand squeezing it in comfort, something that just five or even three years ago he would’ve never voluntarily done. “Is my mom one of them?”        When Y/N shook her head no, Max almost sagged to the floor in relief. “I didn’t feel her. He has a lot of others under his control – Tina, Tommy, Vicky, pretty much everyone else that didn’t leave the party that night… they drugged the punch and knocked everyone out, and then Neil helped them bring the rest to Benny’s where… ya know… they got possessed and shit…”        Y/N groaned trying to stand up, but when her knees buckled, she opted for staying on the bed.        “How does your back feel?” Robin asked, making everyone remember that before being possessed by a Mind Flayer, she’d been dragged away by a monster with knives for fingers.        “Like a Demogorgon wanted to make a skinsuit out of me,” Y/N shrugged and hissed at the pain. Without it possessing her, she was back to herself, and it meant she was back to feeling things and not just ignoring the unpleasant itch in her back. Billy was instantly in action mode.        “Okay, we need to clean those. Don’t want you getting an infection.”        Joyce was immediately on her feet. There was an old bottle of vodka, she’d found in Hopper’s room from that day when she’d ditched their ‘date but not date’ to instead go to Mike’s science teacher, and she went to grab it.        “Vodka doesn’t have an expiration date,” she muttered to herself taking a clean cloth as well.        “Here,” Joyce gave both of those things to Billy, and Y/N sighed.        “This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” he warned soaking the rag with the alcohol and reached for one of the leather restraint that had been wrapped around her wrists.       “Yeah, I’m kinda expecting it to,” she grumbled and bit down on the belt. With one final nod, Y/N readied herself, and he pressed the cloth against her wounds.        Searing hot pain erupted throughout her body, and for a second Y/N’s vision went completely white. She grabbed onto the sheets and fisted them between her fingers, holding back the scream. Honestly, she’d rather be possessed by the Mind Flayer than feel every single time the alcohol ate at her wounds.        And oh god, when Billy had to peel away the scabbed over parts… Y/N thought she’d pass out. Hoped she’d pass out. Childbirth had been easy compared to the torturously slow movements as each crusted bit was ripped from the gashes leaving them open to the air.        She spit the belt out to the floor and growled, “Hurry the fuck up!”        “Sorry, sweetheart,” Billy murmured seeing Y/N’s face scrunch up as he dragged the cloth across the third out of five slashes. “But I gotta be thorough.”        It dragged on for five more agonizing minutes before Billy and Joyce deemed Y/N’s skin would not rot and fall off her back. For the time being at least. She’d definitely need to see the doctor first thing in the morning.    “I think these might need stitching,” Billy trailed a careful palm along the two of the deepest gashes.        “Yeah, nope,” Y/N shook her head heaving and shuddering, and Joyce applied a compress to her back. It had some sort of a cold salve on it, and it instantly relieved her blazing skin. She’d been the only one smart enough to remember about El talking about Y/N’s wounds, so while everyone had gathered tons of tinfoil, Joyce had bought a first aid kit and some other things that she considered might be necessary.    “Thank you for cleaning them up, but I ain’t letting you anywhere near me with a needle and thread,” Y/N smirked.        “Wha- hey!” he exclaimed. Usually, he’d slap her arm playfully, but this time he opted out on it.        “Do I need to remind you when you tried, keyword tried, to sow up Clara’s dress?” she gave him a pointed gaze and shook her head, smiling as Joyce muttered a ‘men’ underneath her breath.        Steve who had joined their little group once the gross stuff was out of the way, crossed his arms and snorted. “What happened?”        “I ended up having to throw it out,” Y/N gestured at Billy. “Because cross stitch is so hard.”        “It wasn’t that bad,” Billy protested but accepted his defat and helped to wrap the layer of gauze around Y/N’s back. Immediately it got soaked and turned a scarlet color, but it was better than leaving the scabs on with millions of possible infections underneath them. And the red was a much pleasant color than the pitch black. “She’s just being dramatic.”        “Frist of all,” Y/N hissed and pointed a finger at him. “I’m allowed to be dramatic. At least right now. Second of all, you managed to sow the dress to your jeans, and then, when I told you to just cut the thread off and pull it out, you cut a hole into the dress.”        “It was a stylistic choice.”        “Yeah for what, her third arm?”            It seemed insane to be bickering about what were now minuscule things. A ruined dress. Billy’s inability to sow. Him being in absolute denial about it. Insane, but nice, given how the actual things they needed to worry about were the possible invasion of their world by an interdimensional alien, a Russian army opening up the Gateway between the two universes and her father-in-law being the main henchman.        “How do we explain this to Clara?” Billy nudged his chin towards Y/N's back, and her eyes widened.        “Fuck,” she swore under her breath. “I hadn’t thought about that…”    There was no way she could just brush it off, and their little Terminator had to know everything. It had been an interesting enough conversation when she’d asked about her dad’s scars, but now when her mom would arrive home with a destroyed back was not something, they thought they’d have to deal with.        “You might also wanna figure out what to say to mom,” Alex said as he stood to the side, arms matter-of-factly crossed over his chest.        “What? Why?”        Alex’s eyes widened. “Graduation’s in like a few hours, and you're gonna show up like that?”        That’s when the rest of the kids also remembered Friday was just three hours away, and graduation only fifteen.        “Oh, shit,” Max muttered sharing a look with Mike, Dustin, Will and Lucas. El hadn’t gone to a public school, having been taught by Hopper and then Joyce at home.        “Well, we can’t go,” Mike said. “This is bigger than some fucking graduation.”       “Hey, watch your mouth!” Hopper said pointing at the teen. He was still in the mindset of ‘keep the door open three inches’, no matter if four years had passed.        “I think going might be our best bet,” Y/N butted in. “Or at least, you have to go.”        “Not to be rude, ‘cause I know you went through some pretty dramatic shit,” Lucas said, “but Mind Flayer versus getting a piece of paper,” he made a gesture as if he was weighing the options with his hands. “The Mind Flayer wins.”        Y/N shook her head and stood up, leaning heavily against Billy. “He still needs to keep up the appearances. I mean when Billy was possessed, he went to his job at the pool, so I can guarantee he’ll be at the school. And that’s when we can strike.”        The thought of attacking the Mind Flayer and bringing the fight to him, instead of how it usually had been with it striking first, made everyone perk up and start talking, but Billy didn’t join in, even though he might have the most cause to.        Instead, he tugged on Y/N’s palm making her attention flit just to him and look at his furrowed brows. It seemed as if the formulation of the words on his tongue were the hardest ever, but in the end, he got them out.        “What did you mean by ‘the three of us…?’ When you said you wouldn’t let me taint the three… of you…”        “I don’t know…” she shook her head. “I have no clue where that came from.”        “Do you,” Billy swallowed harshly and wrung his hands together, “do you think you might be pregnant again?”        That thought had crossed her mind, but Y/N didn’t think it to be plausible. Every time they’d had sex they’d been very careful, as they weren’t planning on having another kid. Sure, Clara hadn’t been planned either and turned out to be the best gift ever, but they were doing really well at that moment, so another gremlin would be quite jarring.        “I don’t think so… I had my period right before leaving.”        “Yeah, but we did have a lot,” he emphasized the word and smirked, “of fun at the motel in the morning. And when we got to yours in the shower… and before going to Tin-“        “Okay, you don’t need to recount every time,” Y/N chuckled feeling heat crawl up her body. “I remember, I was there.”       “You better, otherwise, I’d need to remind you.”        She tilted her head to the side. “I wouldn’t complain about that. Like at all.” A beat passed before she spoke again. “If it was though…” Y/N bit down on her lip. “Would you want it? Another kid? Would you want one?”        Billy snorted cupping her cheeks and giving her a sweet kiss. “If you’d ask me to run through Hell barefoot, I’d fucking skip through it with a smile on my face.”        “So, would that be a yes?”        “You’re such a dork,” he shook his head, the affectionate grin never leaving.        “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”        He scoffed. “You better fucking be.”        “We’ll figure it out…” Y/N nodded her head as if affirming herself they would. “If we get out of this alive.”        “When,” he growled back. “When we get out of this alive. Don’t you dare talk that way.”        She rolled her eyes. “I’m just being realistic.”        “Well stop it then.” He grumbled like a toddler being told he couldn’t have any more candy. “Be optimistic.”        Y/N scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re not only Keg King, but the King of Optimism as well.”        He watched her bring Nancy’s given shirt over her head and helped the woman let it slip over her body.    Billy loved that body with every inch of his being. He loved each and every birthmark, scar and dip, and now it had been completely rearranged by some monster. There was nothing in the world that would make him think of Y/N as anything as beautiful, but a small part in his head screamed at how much he hated the rips that would scar over at some point. They had been his fault. His ugly marks on her gorgeous body.        “Where’s uh where’s your ring?” Y/N asked, clearing her throat and bringing him out of the pondering. This was so not the conversation she thought she’d ever have. It was like they’d had a silent agreement to never take the golden circlets off, so seeing his finger bare, with a pale line around it, made her stomach churn.        “When you were missing, I asked El to help find you. She needed something that had a connection to you…” he shrugged flexing his fist. “This was the only thing I could think of.”        “And why haven’t you put it back on?”        It seemed like the question completely shifted the mood, and Billy let out a sad chuckle. “ ’Cause I don’t think I should.”        Y/N’s eyes widened. “What?”        She could feel tears burn at the edges of her eyes, but Y/N was not going to let them fall. Instead, she cleared her throat and repeated the question in a much softer tone.        “That day when we got married, I promised to protect you. I might have not said it out loud, but I promised it to myself.” Unlike her, Billy allowed himself to fully feel the emotions, a drop rolling down his cheek.    “And I failed. How can I put it back on, how can I promise that to you, when I broke it in the first place? I know it wasn’t you saying all those things, that it was the Mind Flayer using my fears against me, but it had a point. I don’t deserve you. Or Clara. For years this whole life has felt like a dream, like a fluke that I’d gotten so lucky. And now I know it is, ‘cause there’s no way I could ever deserve you or your forgiveness.”        Y/N thought she’d be sad and hurt by his words, but instead, she was just pissed. “Forgiveness for what?”        “For this whole thing,” he gestured at her torn-up body. “Had it not been for me, you wouldn’t have been possessed by that fucker. Had it not been for me, we wouldn’t have gone to Tina’s. I wouldn’t have gotten drunk and pissy, and you wouldn’t have had to wander off into those fucking woods… this whole shit’s my fault…”        Her lips were pursed into a very thin line before, Y/N nodded. “Okay, so answer me this – did you know the Gate was open?”        “N-no,” Billy stuttered out not sure where the conversation was going.        “Did you know the Demogorgon and the Mind Flayer were back?”        Once again, he replied with a soft ‘no’.        “Did you have any clue any of this would happen?” her voice was getting louder with each word.        Billy hid his face in his palms but shook his head no.        “Then why are you punishing yourself?”        “Because who else am I supposed to punish?!” he exploded jumping up. “You?! I was the one who put you in danger, I am the one with the shit father who’s even shittier now! All of your biggest problems in life have been because of me, and now whenever we’ll go to the beach, whenever you’ll take a shower, I’ll have to see those fucking marks on your back that you wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for me!”        Y/N was practically shaking as she stood face her husband, despite the tendrils of pain rippling down her back.        “I did not sit by your hospital bed for two whole days while you were unconscious, I didn’t spend my last summer here with you in the ICU for you to say this bullshit to me,” she seethed and moved closer. “Now, you’ll listen to me Billy Hargrove, we’ve been through so much shit, it’s insane. I could write a novel about it and still, there wouldn’t be enough pages to tell the full story.”       Her gaze was piercing, and he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Y/N’s. No matter how much Billy wanted to, it was impossible as every word found its mark, yet he still listened to her, still nodded along and let the tears slip down his cheeks, his wife’s soft thumbs brushing them away.        “I did not go through childbirth, through doubting myself if I’m a good person, let alone a mother; I did not go through this shit, only for you to tell me that you don’t wanna wear that ring anymore, cause guess what? I’ve fucked up too. That day at the pool when we got into that huge argument and the whole Mind Flayer shit happened to you? I blame myself for that.”        Billy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But – but it’s not. You had nothing to do with it… it just happened, it was bad luck.”        “Exactly,” a painful smile of relief made her lips pull up hoping he'd get where she was going with it. “I know it wasn’t my fault, I can’t control the Mind Flayer, but I still blame myself. Maybe if I’d been more understanding, maybe if I’d tried to work it out, it wouldn’t have happened... you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”        His hands shook as he settled them on Y/N’s waist, pressing his forehead tightly to hers. He’d never even considered that she blamed herself for that summer’s events. He never even entertained that idea, ‘cause it was simply untrue, so he didn’t spend time on it.        “You blame yourself for this, and I blame myself for what happened to you... even though it was neither of our faults... So,” Y/N let out a shaky breath, “put that fucking ring back on your finger, or I swear, I’ll serve you some divorce papers.”        Billy chuckled, pulling back from the embrace to fish out the ring from his pocket, but not before pulling Y/N in for a passionate kiss. Fuck, did it feel good to kiss her again. “Yes, mam.”        Beautifully, as if it was made to sit at the base of his left ring finger, the piece of jewellery slid on and stayed there. As it would forever.        “I love you,” he whispered pecking her lips.        “I love you too, dumbass.”        “Whatever you say Mrs Dumbass,” he bit on his bottom lip and glanced down at her. “You’re an amazing person, by the way. And an even better mother.”        Y/N mouthed a ‘thank you’ against his lips before caressing them again.        “You two okay there?” Joyce asked peaking inside the bedroom as they stepped back from one another.        Only then did they realize when the argument had started everyone else had left the room to give them privacy to work things out.        Billy nodded, smiling over at Y/N. “Yeah, we’re alright. But I think we’ll be even better when we decide what to do with the whole Upside-Down thing.”        “I think I have an idea,” Y/N sighed and, leaning heavily on Billy’s shoulder they entered the living room where everyone else was.        Max raised a concerned eyebrow, thumb between her teeth, and when their eyes met, she gave the redhead a small but assuring smile, making her heart lift from her feet back to her chest, knowing that everything was okay between the two.        Hopper opened his arms and then put them on his hips. “We’re all ears.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take): 

Hawkins’ Charm tag list: @genius2050 @aiifandomsunite @ashleymarieriffle @littlefool-smalljester @infinitelycharmed23 @llcalumllhoodll @benevolentgemini @rxmanovbby @euphoniumpets @krazykatykat456 @believerofall @ccidk @babechief @meganmj @blackhood5sos @fml9603 @noodlenerd101 @universefinds @kuroidesuchloe @im-a-stranger-thing @grxxn-gardxns @springholland @beforethebraces @robinisourlesbianmom @queeneliza108 @neenaw-neenaw @lexisntthatweird @choicesismylife @mckenzie2020 @kcd15 @snuggleducky @reckless-sofia @didyouseetheflair @silver-winter-wolf @jay-ta-blog @hopeless-lovex0 @anyasthoughts @robinismyqueen @yeah-butyourenot-dacremontgomery @mcrganstarks @psychoticobsession @cutehipstergirl25 @sbfandom @mickmoon @jackyfrost01 @txhmine @dark-princess99 @morgangrice18 @changingmylifestyle367 @sweetdayme4427 @alowexpectation @sexyvixen7 @golddvstwoman @evelynfreakinaddams @sunfucked @sataninsatin @queenbbarnes @venomavocado @rangotangomango @psychosupernatural @sereiins @frickin-bats @bandsruinedmylife @thee-brunette-princess @queenskyster @aspiring-fangirls-world @gracethegeek9902 @katiexdacre @dreamwavej @escaping-reality21 @void-fire-rose @slvtherinseeker @paranoiadestroyah @arromite @jojo-buttercup @danarysstormborn @graveyard--baby--666

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28

A/N: heya! Sorry for the delay on this part, but I had such a full weekend that I just didn’t have the time to write or post, but I hope you enjoy this part. The next one might be the last or close to that, but I have a few other Billy imagines in mind, so if you wanna be tagged in any of the future fics drop a message (whether Hawkins’ Charm tag list, Forever tag list (means you’ll be tagged in EVERYTHING or just Billy’s :) )

ALSO! HOLY SHIT WE HIT 6K!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! THANK YOU!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE THERE ARE SO MANY OF YOU THAT LIKE WHAT I CREATE AND IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME THAT YOU’RE STICKING AROUND :****

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. what did ya think? :)

[pack-the-pack]

Any thoughts on the aftermath of mating bites? I have a headcanon that taking care of the other's bite until its healed is a huge part of strengthening a pair's mating bond. Do you think Alphas would take pride in changing the Omegas bandages every day? Or feel guilty for for causing them pain? Would Omegas fret over using the best salves and anti-inflammatory medicine?

Honestly I adore this idea. But as in most of the asks I answer my response is not just “yes, pretty much” or “No” lol Yeeea, sorry about that guys… I do think that overall the biting and the care for it is an intimacy majority of couples take pride on, but I also think the process and importance itself might change depending on personal preference of the couple, culture, time period and social and economic status. Yes We are going there again, fasten your seat belts kids, cause it’s time for a History lesson, Pack style!!!

Warning: Mentions of death, abortions, mental illness, sexual stuff and all sorts of ancient hi jinks in an incredibly lengthy post (cut possibly unavailable on mobile cause tumblr is garbage).

Disclaimer: A lot of what I’m basing these fictional concepts in is very eurocentric because that’s what I know best, I am not a historian, I am not an archaeologist or a biologist, I have no degree on no nothing let alone an specialisation on anything relevant enough to be used as educated sources for what I’m about to write. This is just for fun okay, guys? So no need to rub your years of hard work and experience on my face or be like “well actually-!”, cause it will be like just, cool to know? But very unlikely taken into account past that, so just, relax m’kay? Thanks…… Also a lot of my knowledge on these things just comes from the “History of the entire world I guess” video so yeaaa.

So first and foremost, the types of things one would use to treat mating bites. Again, I think there are variants regarding time period and culture, but I think every culture would end up coming up with rather similar things, or overlapping methods of treating such scarring, and I made a little drawing for it :3 Nothing, great, nothing awesome, but because this ask inspired me to draw something. 

(Kind of messy, my pottery is kind of crooked and I totally intended for the background to be grey and didn’t just  fuck up cleaning up on the wrong layers and had to pretend that was the original plan, you’re imagining, but it’s from the heart c’mon).

Before people had this fancy thing called modern medicine, they had to rely solely on instinct, anecdotes and superstition to make their medication, and of course, bite treatment wasn’t any different. 

Whenever an Alpha would bite an Omega or a Beta or vice verse, the glands around the bite area would get irritated, itchy and achy. The most ancient method of soothing these aches was mud, just plain out wet dirt, applied to the area and left there to dry and reapplied only when the entirety of the first batch cracked and fell off naturally during daily activities. It was the hottest trend amongst packs 50.000 b.c. - Though there is also evidence of animal fat being used for the same purpose as well as snow. 

With the end of the Paleolithic period and the invention of agriculture things started to get more advanced, now people have bowls, and lots of seeds… and grains! Grains and seeds that they can squeeze really hard and it makes residue come out of them. This is when various types of oils started to pop all around along with various simple mixtures of flour and water. Many clay statues and other rudimentary paintings from these periods show a variety of deities and rituals that existed around the manufacturing of these products and there are indications that the importance of treating bite wounds only then started to become somewhat of a significant part of mated couples’ lives. It was believed that these smaller human settlements created by the first sedentary packs, aka warrens, didn’t make distinction between the Eleusinian¹ and Asterian² dynamics when it came to mating bites and the treatments of such. Omegas would bite and care for the marks they inflicted on Alphas just as much as Alphas and Betas to one another or other Omegas. It was only when these warrens started to grow into full blown villages and subsequently distinctive cities that these differences started to develop. 

Once these villages and cities started to gain shape and power, social hierarchy took on a new dimension beyond sole survival. Alphas no longer concerned themselves solely with the survival of their own small pack and hunting food to provide for their mates and children, Betas no longer concerned themselves with just assisting Alphas and Omegas in their daily activities as well as primarily caring for crops and animals, and Omegas no longer only cared to make sure their children and pack were in good health and cared for. Farming and the domestication of animals allowed everyone to have more time for architecture, writing, laws, politics, dancing, music, religion and most important of all: Figuring out how to divide people in a way that totally doesn’t benefit everyone equally, as one do. So now you got social classes and cultural diversity, and these come with different ways of treating mating bites. So around the period of the Bronze age to when the Greeks were like really important (specially cause a lot of the terminology and ideas about the dynamics carried nowadays comes from them and the Romans in western society) methods and materials started to shift a bit, but not drastically. Herbs like mint and parsley, flowers like lavender and aconite, roots like ginger and marsh mallow, and oils like that from olives, frankincense or sesame seeds as well as animal derived products such as wax from bees or blood and fat from animals and sometimes even metals like iron started to pop up all around from east to west as cures for all sorts of ailments and diseases. Brought through the sea or through land by merchants (rhizotomiki) who crossed nations and continents, carrying with them they brought all sorts of new superstitions and beliefs about mating bites. Flowers said to be born from rivers or lakes of eternal youth, roots and spices made of fire itself, honey directly from the mouth of deities or roots that’d kill any spiritual disease started gaining popularity quickly with pretty much everyone seen as a lot of these were said to provide for good fortune and happy and prosperous marriages if incorporated on biting rituals. Oracles and religious leaders would advise their followers and rulers to consume certain things before mating and to care for their bites and their partners with extra amounts of care because all of a sudden they started to become super important. Deaths, famine, bad luck, abortions and mental illnesses started to be blamed on the lack of care or the improper care of mating bites, said to either cause the body to perish in account of some malignant aspect of a specific plant or to have angered the gods in some manner. 

The high mortality that could come with infected mating bites became more and more apparent the more society advanced, but they didn’t know it was because of the infection itself yet, so surviving these was not only a sign of strength or luck, but a sign of status, power, money and higher spirituality. Emperors, Empresses, feudal lords in the orient, etc. All took pride in having enough money to buy rare ingredients from merchants from far away lands as well as hundreds of slaves and servants to care for their gardens, plantations and animals which provided them with an immense diversity of always available plants, herbs and roots that gained favour in aiding with biting marks. To be the chosen mate of one of these people would grant one with a similar status and privileges, such as not dying and having better flavoured bread or something. 

This also meant that they didn’t really want other people but them using these miracle medicines, because they thought that for the common people to use “divinely provided” forms of care would inevitably result in corruption of said methods and subsequently the fall of society. So now you had:

The rulers of nations and cities/nobles: Using and manufacturing refined powders from roots, grains and metals from far away nations in order to bind and cure mating bites. Rare Oils from plant eradicated anywhere but the palaces and gardens belonging to the highest circles, bandages made from the finest silks and sown and painted with all sorts of religious meanings. Concoctions that took hours, months or even years to be finished for a single claiming treatment, with recipes and processes kept secret and many times lost forever with trusted doctors/shamans that’d tend to royalty only. 

Generals, Priestesses, Shamans, Politicians: Using plants and roots that were common, but difficult to come by, expensive, difficult to use or “required” a specific ritual that’d grant them some sort of untapped potential from these plants otherwise, providing them “enlightenment”, “strength”, “wisdom” and “spiritual clearance” in order to win all things from wars, to new knowledge and insight on the gods’ wants and needs to political feuds. Alcohol and other fermented blends such and wine and grape must with marsh mallow, made to clean and close wounds as well as soothing burns were prioritized here. The immediate pain was considered cleansing and efficiency. Mandrakes were rather popular as well, but for treating “deep spiritual diseases”, such as when ones mate falls ills some hours or a day after the bite is consummated, or to ensure healthy and strong offspring coming from the union since it was considered to aid on sexual prowess. However given its “immense” power and magical properties it was rarely ever given or prescribed to the masses without the supervision or blessing of a highly spiritual attuned authority. 

Lords and wealthy merchants: Using, manufacturing and selling all sorts of blends, mostly creams and perfumes said to help with pain and itching. These would change depending on the city and the deities they worshiped and superstitions they carried as well as the plants naturally available in the lands (the ones that haven’t been eradicated or hogged by other classes of people). These were the ones usually gifted by acquaintances, and friends of the newly mated couple as offerings of good fortune, prosperity and fertility. These varied hugely in ingredients and price as well. Though there were other ingredients and recipes guarded with an amount of secrecy by these as well, gifted and used just by the family to other members of the same, these tended to be tended to and made with a higher degree of care, utilizing plants one would have at their disposal in their own home.

Common soldiers, artisans and lesser merchants, sailors and farmers: The people that didn’t really have much money, time or social status to dedicate to bite wounds would resort to simpler and cheaper methods of soothing their pains. Simply dousing the wounds with olive or fish oil was a common practice, as well as using salt water to wash the area. Clay of various kinds as well as coal and ground up seashells were popular on various cities as ingredients for lotions and creams and many times were offered to the gods as well as a form of prayer for good health and happy mateship. Lamb and goat fat was also very popular with the poor for its healing and relaxing properties, people would collect an array of herbs and flowers that’d fancy their partner or the both of them to incorporate into it, in order to symbolise their union as one as well as to mask the strong foul smell from the fat.  

Slaves: Slaves were usually prohibited to mate by their masters, but the ones that happened to mate someone or being mated would be punished with not being able to treat their wounds. It was seen as a disgrace and distasteful to not treat ones bite wounds, and people thought only fitting that slaves who step out of line would have their favour taken from them entirely on the eyes of their gods or polite society. As a result slaves had to resort to only using water and cool mud, many succumbing to the infections and fevers that were attributed by most as a corruption of the spirit and not worthy of pity. 

So as you can see, there was a divide in how they treated their wounds based on many things, and while some of these methods and rituals sometimes overlapped between classes the distinction was stark enough that you could clearly tell what type belonged to whom. It was around that time as well that the Eleusinian and Asterian dynamics started to get divided more and more as time passed. Omegas were treated as borderline property and in many places like Athens were not granted the right to mark their mate back, with exceptions occurring just in certain occasions (such as the soon departure to a losing war on the mate’s part, or to save the mate’s life though a spiritual treatment), Beta females and poor Omega females being forbidden to use certain plants and to take part in certain rituals by law claimed to be belonging solely to Omega females of higher social status, Omega males being prohibited of using any sort of soothing agents if not prohibited of being bitten altogether. Alphas having or not marks as a form of weakness or a show of strength varied ridiculously from city to city and from nation to nation (So much so that to this day there is not full agreement on that in society). And a whole lot of other rules and random crap just around mating bites alone. 

With the invention of modern medicine, these things started to change obviously, people had a better grasp of what helped and what just made things worse, creams, pills, oils,,and ointments started being patented and people would gradually only look to more naturalistic methods of treating claim bites as an element of a different all-natural life style or a belief (misguided or not) that natural = better. With all that said one thing has remained true: Yes, caring for ones wounds is something that is and was believed to strengthen and solidify ones bond with their mate. People always tended to care a great deal for it, doing everything in their power to provide for their mates in the best way they knew how, if it were through giving them private care by more servants then they can count, with the best ingredients in the world at the moment, or simply by choosing smells and things that they’d like in order to show how much they care, they took and still take great pride in caring for that very fragile wound in their necks. As whether or not this is more an Alpha thing or a Omega thing, or if Alphas hate or take pride in causing pain to their partners, that varies in belief, culture and time period. I particularly think that overall it’d be a mixture of both. They don’t want to cause excessive pain to their partner but they also want their bonds to be solidified forever. The Eleusinian dynamics were always the ones more intimately connected with the production and rituals surrounding bite soothers so to me it makes sense they prioritize its quality more than Asterian dynamics, but that also is a highly individual thing. 

Overall I hope this wasn’t a complete departure from what you asked >.> But I really wanted to explore this a bit more and your ask gave me the opportunity to. Remembering this is all just my interpretation and applies to my verse (PTPverse) which is completely open for creative use in fanfictions, RP sessions and others, so if you don’t agree with what I said here that’s 100% fine, to each their own, I just hope this somehow was able to help anyone ;) any lingering questions try checking out my other history posts such as the Ancient Greece Headcanons one or make another ask on my inbox for clarity. Peace. 

¹ - Eleusinian dynamics: Referring to Omegas (of either gender) and Beta females.

² - Asterian dynamics: Referring to Alphas (of either gender) and Beta males.

[coyotesongwriting]

Needed

Avengers - Clint Barton/Reader

Prompt Fill for @proudhufflepuff77​

Prompt:  1. “You say you don’t need me, but I disappear for less than an hour and you’re already messy and bleeding.” 

Author’s Note: Sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know!):   @rorynne @proudhufflepuff77​ @redfoxwritesstuff @darthhayber @alwaysadreamingoptimist @samsgoddess @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @carissime72 @gatorgal94 @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark

“I don’t need you to hold my hand!” Clint grumbled, rolling his eyes at you.

“Well maybe if you’d actually follow the recipe I wouldn’t need to!” you growled, glaring down at the blackened mess on the counter in front of you.

The two of you had decided to make dinner for the others tonight. They were all out on a mission, but you guys had been benched for a few days after you’d both been injured by an explosion. According to the doctors, you’d be clear to rejoin the team in the next day or two but you were bored and hated not feeling useful, so you’d settled for making dinner.

Clint had managed to talk you into making Garlic Chicken with green beans and rice, which didn’t sound too difficult. The team was due back in about an hour and a half and you guys were ready to start cooking. Clint had already managed to set off the smoke alarm, and it was safe to say things weren’t off to a good start. 

“Maybe if you’d stop reading so much, you’d actually be able to help!” he glared, scraping the burnt mess out of the pan and into the trash, “Just stay out of my damn way, okay!”

“You know what? If you’ve got it so under control, you do it!” you huffed, throwing the towel down onto the counter and stormed off to your room, cursing him under your breath the whole way.

You slammed the door to your room shut, groaning in frustration. God, that man could be so frustrating! Over the last month, he’d begun to act more and more like an ass, and you two had been fighting more and more often over every little thing. It was like a switch was flipped, one day you two were great and the next he was becoming a grumpy ass, and you weren’t sure why.

You groaned as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. There was a big stain on your shirt, and you had flour in your hair. You quickly climbed into the shower, and by the time you climbed out 20 minutes later, you’d given up on being angry at Clint, although you’d still love to know why he had decided to hate you suddenly. He’d been your first friend on the team, and it bothered you not knowing what went wrong. You’d been beginning to wonder if he could maybe be more than a friend when he suddenly flipped the switch to becoming an ass, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was acting out to push you away.

A soft knock on your bedroom door caught your attention as you brushed out your hair, and you answered the door without thinking. It didn’t dawn on you that you were nothing more than your towel until Clint swallowed, his gaze running over your body before returning to your face. You waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. 

“Can I help you..?” you smirked.

“Uh... I - yeah” Clint stammered, before holding out his hand. His hand was covered in blood, and it looked like he’d managed to cut his finger almost down to the bone, “Help?”

“Shit Clint!” you opened your door and ushered him in, pushing him to sit on the bed while you grabbed the first aid kit out of your bathroom. 

Clint refused to meet your gaze as you sat on the bed facing him, taking his hand gently in yours. Your warm fingers slowly traced soothing patterns over the skin on his wrist while you began to clean the wound with your other hand. He let out a shaky breath at the burn of the alcohol wipe, and you murmured a soft apology as you worked. 

His blue eyes slowly turned to skim over your face, and you blushed lightly a small smile on your face. You refused to break your concentration though, and you were relieved to see that the cut wasn’t as deep as it feared. It would heal just fine with a little help. Slowly, you spread antibiotic ointment over the cut and wrapped it in a bandaid. The task at hand finished, your hand never let go of his wrist, slowly tracing circles onto his skin. He made no move to pull away. 

Clint’s quiet voice finally broke the silence and your eyes slowly moved to meet his as he spoke, “Thanks [Y/N]. I really appreciate the help.”

“You say you don’t need me, but I disappear for less than an hour and you’re already messy and bleeding” you smiled teasingly at him.

“I always need you” His voice was playful, but you could see the honesty in gaze 

“Is that why you’ve been an ass to me lately?” you asked curiously, a few strands of your hair falling across your face as you tilted your head to the side slightly.

He reached out and carefully brushed the hair out of your face, the rough pads of his fingers caressing your soft skin left you blushing like a lovesick fool. For a long moment, silence reigned in the room as you waited patiently to hear what he’d have to say if he’d say anything at all, to begin with. 

“I don't mean to be an ass” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shifted to stare at the wall behind you, “I just get nervous around you.”

You grasped both of his hands in yours, careful of his finger, “Why would you be nervous around me? You know you can trust me, Clint. I can’t stand the fighting… I miss you” As you spoke, you shifted closer, your knees firmly brushing against him. 

His gaze snapped to yours at the contact, and you could see the decision cross his face. Before you could do or say anything, Clint’s lips were pressed to yours in a searing kiss and you froze. After a moment, he pulled away and got up to leave, mumbling an apology. 

Before he’d made it even a step from the bed, your hand was tangled up in the collar of his shirt, the other cupping the back of his neck as you pulled him in for another kiss. He quickly returned to the bed, and it wasn’t long before you were settled in his lap, one hand roaming under his shirt as the other tangled in his air. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you were too caught up in one another to realize the others had returned. A few minutes later there was a soft knock on your door, and you chose to ignore it. Whoever it was would just have to wait, you weren’t ready to step back into the real world quite yet. The door to your room slowly crept open, and neither of you even noticed between the heavy kissing and wandering hands. 

“Hey [Y/N], what's with the blood in the kitchen? Everyone - OH MY GOD” Steve had poked his head in, wanting to make sure you weren’t in here bleeding out, but at the sight of you and Clint tangled up on the bed he jumped out and slammed the door behind him. He quickly began to walk away from the door, too stunned to say anything else. 

As he left, he silently prayed it would be the last time he’d ever come across the two of you like that. It wasn’t.

Find This Story On AO3

Author’s Note Part 2: I’m realizing I have a love of horrifying Steve by making him interrupt things. I would apologize but I have no intentions of stopping LOL

[starship-squidlet]

Kurta’s Moving Castle: Chapter One

Summary: Leorio is a young medical student in the middle of a war. While he studies for his final exams, he works in an infirmary away from the front lines. One day, he is rescued from a brawl by a mysterious stranger. A curse, a giant chicken, and a storm later, he finds himself swept off into a whole new adventure... (Hunter X Hunter and Howl’s Moving Castle fusion)

Word Count: 1,486

Disclaimer: Kurta’s Moving Castle Preface

A/N: Hey, y’all! I’m going through and cleaning up/reformatting all of my older fics, starting with this one (since it’s shorter then the collective mess of i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it) so get ready for a slight hxh spam... Do I still have Newsies fics to fix post-URL change? Yes. I’m procrastinating on them for whatever reason. Anyways, I’m also planning to work on finishing some of my older abandoned fics in the near future (starting with this one), so this is also in preparation for that!

Original A/N: Okay, so I wasn't going to post this just yet, until I had a few more chapters finished, but... It's just so fun I couldn't help myself! I make no promises that the next chapter will come particularly soon, but we'll see what happens (aka how work goes for me this week...). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! I'm really having a lot of fun writing this story, so I hope you all have fun reading it too! Please let me know what you think!!!

Next chapter: Chapter Two

Leorio leaned back in his chair and sighed, slinging his arm over his eyes.

Knock knock.

"Come in!" Leorio called, sitting himself back up.

"Hello, Leorio," Melody's soft voice chimed from the doorway. "The infirmary is closed for the day. You don't have night watch tonight; do you want to come out with the rest of us?"

"No, that's okay," Leorio half-turned to look at her. "I want to get some more studying done tonight."

"Are you sure?" there was a gentle admonishment in Melody's tone. "You can't stay cooped up in here forever."

"It won't be forever," Leorio grinned. "Just until I graduate with my M.D."

Melody laughed. "I suppose that's fair. Well, if you change your mind, the rest of us will be over at Forger’s."

"Okay," Leorio had already turned back to the textbooks spread across his desk. He heard the click of the door settling back into its latch and sighed again. Soon, he promised himself. Soon. Final exams are in a few weeks, and then you'll be able to go out with the others.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Despite his best intentions, Leorio found himself unable to focus. Finally, after being distracted by the whistle of the train outside for the fourth time in an hour, he slammed his book shut and stood up with such force that his chair fell backwards to the floor. "One night won't hurt," he declared to the closed window in front of him. "I'll come back and study tomorrow. Maybe even later tonight!"

With that decided, he grabbed his jacket and was off. He waved at a few of the nurses and field doctors who were still around despite the late hour on his way out the door, but didn't pay much attention to them. He hadn't really taken the time to get to know anyone at the field hospital. Melody he'd known before, and she was the one who introduced him to Zepile, owner and bartender of Forger’s, the best bar in town. They were his only two friends in this lonely place…

Outside, the air was crisp and clear, and smelled of locomotive smoke and fall. The town had really cleaned up for the parade of soldiers passing through. Leorio hadn’t gone to the display that afternoon; he was too busy in the infirmary taking care of the wounded from the war--the true heroes, as far as he was concerned--to laud those who had spent the battles watching from the background. He pushed the war out of his mind. There were no signs of it on a night like tonight, after all. No sense in spoiling a perfectly good evening with something so foul as senseless fighting.

Leorio took the long way to Forger’s. It was nice enough to do so, and he could avoid the parties of visiting soldiers spilling out of just about every bar or restaurant by taking the back streets. Unfortunately, he didn’t actually know the back streets particularly well, and soon found himself lost as the sun dipped below the distant hills.

Leorio was trying to get his bearings when he ran into… someone. He staggered backwards, a rebuke on his lips (despite fully knowing that he was the one at fault) until he saw the bright blue and red uniform on the man in front of him. He immediately swallowed his pride and muttered an apology, attempting to continue on his way.

“Hey!” the blond soldier--he probably would have been attractive in any other situation, uniform or not, Leorio mused--barked, grabbing Leorio’s arm as he tried to brush past. “Watch where you’re going, buddy!”

“I said I was sorry,” Leorio kept his voice meek and his eyes directed at the ground. Maybe if the guy thought he was a coward, he’d let him go. In truth, it was everything Leorio could do not to punch the soldier in his smug, pretty face.

“Mousy little thing, aren’t you?” the blond laughed, shoving Leorio back into the stone wall behind him.

Little? Leorio, who stood head and shoulders over the brawnier soldier, arched an eyebrow.

“What’s going on over here?” an even gruffer voice called from the nearest doorway. Leorio didn’t find it hopeful; the only person who would consider getting involved in a dispute with a soldier was another soldier.

“This little mouse bumped into me and thought he could get away without apologizing,” the first soldier called back.

The man who stepped into view sent Leorio’s heart into his mouth. He was huge; easily as tall as Leorio, and twice as broad. His biceps were thicker than Leorio’s thighs--and Leorio didn’t consider himself a small man. “I, uh… I did apologize, actually. It was just a little… quiet?” Leorio stammered.

He didn’t even see the fist coming.

The blond soldier’s punch hit him square over his left eye and cheekbone, and sent his head slamming back into the stone wall, effectively dazing him.

“Ow,” Leorio mumbled.

“You calling me a liar, pretty boy?” the blond sneered, grabbing Leorio by the jaw.

Oh. That’s what he wants.

The other soldier was already pinning Leorio in from the other side, reaching up to grab his tie. He leaned in close enough for Leorio to feel his bristling mustache and smell his breath--heavy with alcohol--and spoke: “It’s not smart to tell lies to people like us.”

“Hello there.”

Three heads snapped around to find the source of the new voice. Leorio’s heart pounded with terror on behalf of the new arrival. A small, slight blond with shaggy hair and perfectly tailored clothing stood in the dark alleyway a few feet from them, hand on his hip and head cocked to the side.

“What’s going on here, darling?”

Is he talking to me..?

“You with this guy?” the big soldier laughed. “You’re way out of his league.”

“Yeah, you should stick around with us for a little while,” the blond soldier simpered. “We can really show you a good time.”

“Too bad,” the new arrival sighed.

“‘Too bad’?” the blond soldier repeated.

“Too bad you two were just leaving,” the gentleman--because, with clothes like those, despite his haircut, he had to be something more than just a normal townsperson--twirled a finger in the air.

The two soldiers snapped to attention, saluted Leorio, and marched down the alley, past the cute blond, protesting the entire way.

“Wha--uh, what just happened?” Leorio mumbled as the blond appeared at his side--Leorio didn’t even see him move--and slotted himself against Leorio, draping Leorio’s arm over his shoulders.

“Just a little fun,” the blond smiled up at him through his messy golden hair. “They’re harmless, really, they just need to be reminded of that every now and then.” He started walking, pulling Leorio with him.

“‘Harmless’?” Leorio didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Where were you heading?”

“Oh, uh… Forger’s. It’s a bar.”

“I know the place,” the blond said. “Just stay close, and act natural. I’m being followed, and by something more dangerous than those two.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Leorio looked around. He thought he saw a shadow in the alley behind them, but couldn’t be sure.

“I said ‘act natural’,” the blond hissed. “I may not know you, but I don’t think that’s natural.”

“Sorry, but I got a little concerned when you said you were being followed by something dangerous,” Leorio grumbled, doing his best to keep his attention on the alley ahead.

“Too late.”

“Wait, what?” Leorio panicked.

“Run.”

And then the blond was pulling him along, racing down the alleyway faster than Leorio thought was humanly possible.

“Hey, you do know this is a dead end, right!?” Leorio yelped. There were definitely moving shadows all around them now.

“Not a problem!” the blond sang out. “Jump!”

They jumped.

They jumped up, and up, and up, and then… they were sailing through the air, over the rooftops of the buildings that had surrounded them moments before.

“Don’t look down!” the wind nearly stole the blond’s voice away, but the warning came just in time, as Leorio had been about to look behind them for the shadows. “They can’t fly like I can. We’ll lose them this way, at least long enough for me to drop you off.”

The flight didn’t last nearly long enough. Before Leorio knew it, they were beginning to descend, and then the blond was slipping out from under his arm and depositing him on the balcony of Forger’s.

“I’ll lead them away, don’t worry,” he smiled, not unkindly, down at Leorio before turning and taking a leap off of the balcony railing.

“Wait!” Leorio shouted, racing to the edge and peering down, half-expecting to see his newfound friend splattered over the cobblestones below. Instead, he saw a huge black bird soaring up from the courtyard and away into the night sky, shadows flitting along the ground behind it. “I didn’t even get your name…” Leorio sighed.

[whatthefuuuuuuccckkkk]

Acne is the devil and I wanna share some things that have helped me achieve clear skin after years of struggling

- cutting out dairy. I know everyone says this. It's true. Dairy isnt really healthy anyway, tons of other ways to get calcium. I cut it out to clear my skin now my body absolutely hates it. It bloats me and makes me feel overall gross and disgusting.

- avoid junk food. some more than others tho. chips and candy is not good but not terrible. but greasy fast food and a lot of heavy stuff....terrible. again, I did it for my skin but my whole body benefits.

- silk pillow cases. sounds fancy but you can get them at walmart for the same price as a regular one. also wash it. I'm not gonna pretend that I wash mine every other night because no normal person has time for that. but at least wash it when you think about it. (sheets and blankets too while we're at it)

- free & clear or sensitive skin detergent. I have other skin sensitivities that arent acne but it helps breakouts too.

- wash your hands and don't touch ya face. I know we're all human and we all have the urge to pick at our skin, so if you insist theres tools (available for cheap and work better than your hands and more sanitary) and if you dont use tools then at least wait until you are home to do anything. that way you can take off your makeup and any dirt from the day, make sure your hands are clean, and wash your face after.

- rinse your face off after meals. being a messy eater is a real struggle.

- brush your teeth before washing your face. I was breaking out a lot in the chin area and it stopped once I started doing this.

- makeup remover and face wash are two separate steps. most face washes are not strong enough to clean off makeup and if they are they might be too strong for your skin.

- speaking of makeup remover..... throw the damn wipes away. get some micellar water. wipes have alcohol perfumes and other shit in them to keep them moist and smelling good. your skin might not like that.

- I should not have to say this but do not go to sleep with makeup on, who raised you.

- wash with face wash as soon as you get up and right before bed. only use water during the day as you dont want to overtreat or overdry. some people don't even need face wash in the morning.

- relax with all the harsh acne products. ive tried every acne product that has ever existed (ok not really) and they all kinda suck. - a gentle cleanser avoids overdrying. or talk to your derm about something (I have a super light % sulfur wash, barley any in it but enough to work without overdrying)

- yes you need a moisturizer. even if you have acne. even if your skin is oily. something light is a good basic moisturizer (cetaphil). dry acne is infinitely worse than oily acne. because when acne gets dry and cracked and painful....yikes. also your skin may be oily to compensate for the lack of oil, sound counterintuitive but it's legit. you can feel your skin (with clean hands ofc) and the texture will tell you if your skin is hydrated.

- do not spot treat too often. back to the overdrying here. you will make it worse.

- do not do masks too often.

- obviously makeup on acne is not a good idea but people are gonna do it anyway. tis the life of insecure girls everywhere. but a green primer helps tone down the reds.

- and to avoid spreading breakouts I recommend only covering the areas you need covered. (for example I never wear foundation on my forehead because I dont break out there naturally, but too many days of heavy makeup in a row and I get blackheads there, so I avoid it by not wearing foundation there, and a little setting powder keeps the shiny away. alternatively at work I just use concealer where I need it and no foundation at all. people with acne honestly usually have really good skin in the areas that arent broken out because we are skin care obsessed.)

- don't pop or pick at your skin before putting on makeup. dont do it. not only is it bad to put makeup on a fresh wound basically. but also makeup will not help and it will end up looking worse than it did to start.

- this is always a good tip but with acne it is moreso... let your moisturizer set into hour skin before putting on primer and let your primer set before putting on makeup.

- if you have long hair dont sleep with it down. put it in a bun and out ya face.

- a lot of home remedies are garbage and actively bad. ask your dr or derm for anything that sounds iffy.

- sunscreen please!! acne and sunburn together is actual hell.

- give any product you need time to work. dont buy a whole new skincare routine and change everything at once. you gotta know what the problem is if anything goes wrong. if you buy (ex) a new toner you heard about, then add it and give it like a month before you switch face washes too. that way you can see what is working and what isnt. skin can freak out at something new so dont panic if theres an immediate breakout...let it happen and if it doesnt go away go back to your old one before trying anything new.

- you don't need a thousand products. less is more. face wash and moisturizer. done. obviously to each their own but start simple and when adding stuff..give it time to work before adding anything else.

- when spot treating limit it to only the area you need, you dont wanna dry the surrounding area.

- birth control!! I went on it because I had reallllly bad cramps but my skin definitely thanked me.

- age and patience. no one wants to hear this but teenagers are more susceptible and it can be outgrown. it's not promised but it's possible.

- drink water! try to avoid soda or juice with lots of sugar. they have those zero cal sparkling water. or those flavor squeeze things.

these things are my personal experience I'm obviously not a doctor so there's your disclaimer lol. everyone is different and I'm just trying to lend a helping hand.

above all else my advice would be that your beauty does not dictate your value and your acne does not define you and is not worth being the stressor that it is. but I know that's not an easy thing to accept so here are some tips!

[hencethebravery]

TITLE: First Family (1/1)

SUMMARY: It's not as if Killian Jones believes his husband to be incapable of winning the presidency (quite the opposite, actually)─he's just not entirely certain he wants him to. A CC 2020 Election AU. (Ao3)

NOTES: This particular story is meant to be entirely cute and in celebration of the prospect of having a “First Gentleman” (see recent Time magazine cover). It is not at all meant to be an endorsement of any one candidate, and if you come at me with anything other than love for these two boys and their dog, I will unhinge my jaw and swallow you whole. I developed Jasmine’s last name from a princess who appeared in The Book of One Thousand and One Nights (on whom Jasmine is based, or so Wikipedia tells me). Oh, and another small disclaimer, this is the first time I’ve included Emma Swan in a Captain Charming fic. For whatever reason I used to struggle with including her, but I guess I’m over it because she’s here now. If you think that’ll bother you then give this one a miss!

If the chronically thin, awkward, and punk-ass 15 year old version of Killian Jones could have, somehow, opened a portal in time and space; a feat which might have allowed him to peer into the future in an attempt to witness what the future might hold, he would have likely imbibed several ill-advised shots of cheap bloody rum, and then quite dramatically flung himself atop the rumpled sheets of his perpetually unmade bed. If the younger Jones had even an inkling of the type of life he’d be living as a 35 year old man─with a full time job, a mortgage, a husband, one wildly photogenic dog─he would have done everything in his power to steer himself off such a disturbingly clean-cut, well-behaved course.

“Well and truly boring I’ve become, isn’t that right my love?”

Dave, the husband in question, sat comfortably in his usual corner of the couch, reading glasses perched at the end of his nose, putzing about on their shared iPad, paying less and less attention by the minute, “Oh, absolutely. Can’t stand you.”

The only reason he brings it up at all is because he has, somewhat unexpectedly, been rather unsettled by the prospect of a life change so massive, he has had no other choice but to reconcile with the fact that the quiet life he has managed to build for himself could, quite likely, be completely destroyed. Forever. Never to be found again. Relegated only to a memory that he’ll return to in his twilight years, a decrepit old thing. “Ah yes,” he would mumble, smacking his lips together in that way the elderly tend to do, “I remember when you could watch an entire 48 hours of television, totally unbothered!”

It’s not as if he legitimately wants to keep his husband, arguably the love his life, from doing what he’s meant to, and clearly, the man’s meant for greatness, but Killian has become accustomed to a certain standard of living. He likes (much to his younger self’s hypothetical horror) doing the same things everyday─up with the sun, cup of coffee, walk the dog, go to school, come home, make dinner, watch Netflix, go to bed. He likes weekend drives to the country; hikes in the morning, beers in the afternoon. He enjoys the calm, safe predictability of his life that he has so miraculously found in the wake of a rather tumultuous, traumatic youth.

“Killian,” David insisted gently, “you’re my husband. Obviously, if you don’t want me to do this, I won’t do it.”

The maddening part is that he knows with absolute certainty that he’s telling the truth. David Nolan wasn’t the resentful type─it was something he both simultaneously loved and hated about the man.

“I swear, darling, the last thing I want to do is hold you back,” Killian replied, frustrated with his own lack of enthusiasm, “I just…”

“...It’s a big change,” David finished, “I know. Honestly,” he continued, “I probably won’t even win.”

“Sure,” Killian scoffed, a smirk on his face, “that’s exactly what you said last time.”

5  Y E A R S  E A R L I E R

“I JUST THINK IT’S FUNNY!” Killian yells over the deafening cheers, one arm slung round Dave’s shoulders, the other waving wildly in the air.

“WHAT?” David shouts back, his mouth turned upwards in a somewhat manic, and what was fast becoming alarmingly permanent, grin.

“IT’S FUNNY!” he repeats, the volume of his voice doing little to bely the patience in his tone. He finds a few of their friends’ faces in the crowd and blows them a kiss, his cheeks starting to hurt with the force and breadth of his own smile.

“WHAT IS?”

Killian couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the absurdity of their attempting to hold a conversation at all at a time like this, but he’d never been one to keep from saying, “I told you so,” when the opportunity presented itself. That said, it was quite the ruckus, and he had simply shaken his head in surrender, silently promising to rub it in at a later date.

To be fair to David’s humility, a mayoral race and a presidential race are two vastly different undertakings, particularly when the mayoral position in question involved a municipality of around 100,000 people, which while a large enough amount, was quite small in comparison to the rest of the country. But at the same time, given what Killian knew about his husband, he had a hard time believing that the rest of the country wouldn’t be able to see what he saw─if they were able to get past the “First Gentleman” of it all, that is.

Killian would be lying if he said he didn’t have something of a pessimistic streak. Certainly, it had grown quieter over the years, especially since meeting David (and his subsequent election to political office in a small midwestern city), but the presidential election of about 3 years prior, coupled with the many national tragedies and constitutional crises, had “awoken the dragon,” so to speak.

“You’ve been watching way too much ‘Game of Thrones.’”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

David and Killian had agreed from the very start─whomever ran in 2020 would have to be and do more than the average candidate. The only way to remind the country and the world of who they really were as a nation was to commit a complete and total act of repudiation with a substantive majority vote.

“You know everyone and their mom is gonna run,” Emma Swan, David’s campaign manager, had joked in the weeks following the 2016 election, after all of their emotional wounds had felt somewhat soothed. Alcohol helped.

“Ah, yes,” Killian agreed, taking a sip of whiskey, “I can feel the splitting migraine already.”

Looking back, David’s silence in that moment had been suspicious, and if he and Emma hadn’t gotten absolutely wrecked in preparation for an upcoming election cycle that would inevitably last what would feel like a decade, he would have prodded a bit further. In fact, if he had prodded, maybe he wouldn’t be so woefully unprepared for the, “I’m thinking of running for President of the United States,” conversation.

Immediately before the panic had set in, what he had actually felt was pride. Regretfully however, panic will-out, and in the midst of his initial tittering he forgot to effectively relay that initial emotion, which was for David he was sure, far more preferable.

In the early stages of the mayoral race, Emma had been adamant on the point of storytelling. According to her, elections were won and lost on a candidate’s ability to tell a story─about themselves, their campaign, their vision for the community─and if David was going to run, an openly gay man (albeit white as they come) from a working class background with little name recognition, the story he told would have to be good. Thankfully there was the military record, that usually played well with an older, more conservative crowd, and it wasn’t as if he was a stranger to hard work─the necessity of family, community, the like. He’d lived there his whole life, people knew who he was, however… unfamiliar they were with his “lifestyle.”

Killian had been far more concerned about himself being one of the factors that could lose Dave the race. The two of them had yet to be married at the time, despite having lived together for several years, and while Killian had lived in America for much of his adulthood, he hadn’t been born there. He was also openly bisexual, had a mostly benign criminal record, and had gotten into his share of fairly public tiffs with some less... "progressive" members of their community. One of them had even been filmed─and gone viral.

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about dragging that all back up again?” Killian had asked during their first informal meeting with Emma. The kind of discussion that started with things like, "We're not having this conversation, but if we were," etc., etc.

“After this President?” Emma scoffed, a gleam in her eye, “It’ll only help.”

Killian should’ve guessed, after seeing David’s quick, knowing glance, that he’d been found out. That it wasn’t the loss of their current lives that he truly fretted over; his inability to walk down the street unmolested, but rather a deep-seated worry of his own value as a partner. He worried, as he had during Dave’s first campaign, that he would only weigh him down.

At some point in the near future, some invasive young journalist is going to ask Killian about the spousal sacrifices. They’re going to want to know, as the spouse of the first openly gay presidential candidate, what do you anticipate giving up? And how, if at all, has he made peace with their new reality? In point of fact, the first concession that Killian had made (up until the whole, “running for leader of the free world,” business that is) was his surrender of the coast.

Killian had never really had roots─there was never a physical home with four walls and a roof overhead to which he could depart and return, over and over again. It could never even be said that he had any people to which he might turn instead; he had a brother, Liam, but they’d never been particularly close, and their history was tense at best and outright antagonistic at worst. All this to say, it was part of the reason why he had given Her up (the sea). Because Dave, most curiously, would become his home in a way he had never thought possible. It was how he was able to make a compromise─to go without the sight of the waves lapping against the rocks in favor of a large, wraparound porch, with some admittedly stunning views of the trees and hills that surrounded their home.

It was where he happened to be sitting the morning after their first casual, "meeting but not a meeting," with Emma; a mug of cooling coffee in his hand, watching Sally sniffing to and fro in the damp grass. It was an otherwise normal morning aside from the impending dose of reality he had yet to fully face. He was in the midst of a perfectly somber and on brand bit of mindless staring when he heard the quiet rumbling of Dave’s early morning voice (a personal favorite of his).

“Hey,” he said, startling Killian out of his ironically stressful meditations. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh, taking a seat beside him on the porch swing, “I didn’t feel you get up this morning.”

“My apologies, love,” Killian answered with a brief kiss, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

There was no crying of gulls, and you couldn’t taste a hint of salt on your lips, but there was still the pleasant chirping of birds; the sight of the sun peeking over the tops of the trees, the heady smell of blooming flowers. Killian cleared his throat, both knowing and dreading the conversation he could no longer avoid.

“You have never,” David began, very astutely avoiding his husband’s nervous glances for the moment, “been something to be ashamed of.”

“For you to even think it,” he continued, giving a slight shake of his head, “I must be doing something wrong.”

“Dave, no─”

“Killian,” he interrupted, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “you are the person I admire most in the world. You are the exact kind of person this country needs to see right now.”

A bit dramatic, Killian thought, desperately attempting to quell the violent beating of his own heart. Despite having known David for as long as he did, he was still somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer goodness of him. Having spent so long himself in a place of defensive cynicism, it was still a challenge to be so unabashedly confronted by such unrelenting hope. That’s what the country needs.

“I know it took us both a long time to make it…” He pauses, glancing up at the trees, the dog now slumbering at their feet, “here, but─”

“I couldn’t possibly adore you more than I already do,” Killian finished, abandoning his cold coffee in favor of framing David’s flushed face, “and I will be there every step of the way.”

“‘For better or for worse,’ blah, blah, blah?”

“Yes,” Killian laughed, pressing their lips together, “something like that.”

The secret? Say “yes,” to fucking everything. That seems to be the fundamental step when you have absolutely zero name recognition and you’re under the age of 75. It’s Emma’s first rule, and she fanatically demands that they abide by it unless she says otherwise. “Let’s let the paint dry on Fox for a hot second,” she suggests after Killian exclaims, “Surely not everything.”

But she damn well means enough. Everything from small, independent news blogs run by journalists, to “serious” news media, to BuzzFeed, and everything in between.

“One of these things is going to just,” she snaps her fingers. “And then it’s all over, boys.”

It’s during an interview with a fairly well known political podcast that really sets them on that, “nothing will be the same after this,” trajectory. He’d essentially been laughed out of the room until he sat down at a table with one of the unnecessarily handsome, affable hosts and dropped stat, after stat, after quip, after poignant observation─after some light hearted jokes that proved he wasn’t living in the dark ages.

“And I hate to ask this,” the host began, the hesitancy evident in his voice, “but what do you say to people who argue that you just don’t have enough experience for the job?”

After a brief pause, during which Killian could observe the wheels spinning from where he sat quietly in the corner of the room, David spoke. In that way he always had of speaking. That way that could convince anyone to listen to what he had to say.

“To that I think I would consider the importance of humility,” a chuckle, “I never want to be one of those people that believes they have nothing left to learn, but at the same time, to claim I have, ya know, ‘no experience,’ whether that’s because of my age, or the size of my city, is just… I don’t know, disingenuous?”

The host laughs a bit at that, “You mean to say, what precisely is their ‘concern?’”

“Yeah, I mean, we knew going into this we might create a few… waves─I don't know if you were aware, but, I am in fact very attracted to other men."

They left the sound of Killian’s obnoxious and embarrassing snort in the recording, which actually ended up being a good thing. Positive polling based on the sound of incredulity? It was strange, the small details that people seemed to cling to.

“But seriously, and this is what I believe, is that the individual experiences of every single person living in this country makes them… invaluable to understanding how it should,” he shakes his head, searching for the right word, “...exist, or be run. So, these people who are concerned about my experience, it’s not a lie for them to say that I haven’t worked at the federal level, or that I haven’t run a federal agency or served in Congress, but my experiences are valuable, my identity is valuable, and I think it’s something the people of this country deserve to see. Even if I’m not the one they choose.”

The tension at the back of Killian’s throat made swallowing a tad painful, but he had to do something to stop himself from crying, which would be… regrettable (although, once the polling had come out about the snort, maybe it wouldn’t have been such a bad thing after all). Crying in front of all these cool, young politicos. But at that moment, at the close of his husband’s small speech, the hopeful grin on the face of the host, the other people in the room─hell, even Emma’s radiant expression, he locked eyes with David and he knew. Snap.

First Family

Mayor David Nolan and the Rebranding of Hope

May 2, 2019

by Jasmine Badur

“I’m not sure I truly believed in ‘hope’ before I met him,” Killian Jones, the potentially first, “First Gentleman,” had somewhat reluctantly revealed in one of our early conversations. “I don’t think I necessarily knew I didn’t at the time,” he paused, giving his ear a nervous tug, “but once I got to know him… I certainly seemed to understand what it was I’d been missing.”

I was invited out to the Jones-Nolan household by Mayor Nolan’s campaign manager, Ms. Emma Swan, a woman who has proven herself to be quite formidable in our current political landscape. “If you really want to know him, them,” she had insisted during one of our many phone calls, “you’ve gotta see them where they live.”

And so, here I am, on a warm, sunny day, greeted by the pleasant sight of a rather long, winding driveway lined with tall, leaf-laden trees. The house itself is also surrounded by quite a bit of lush greenery, which, as Killian explained, was purposeful. Apparently the two men value their privacy, which is pretty ironic, considering.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he answered, unprovoked, “pretty bloody funny.”

The couple’s dog, Sally, runs down the porch steps as I exit my car, and I can hear Mayor Nolan call her name from inside the house. Despite the somewhat grandiose nature of the extended driveway, the house itself is modest, with little in the way of fuss. Both men greet me at the door, and I’m immediately offered a drink or a snack by the Mayor himself.

“He’s worse than my grandmother,” Ms. Swan half shouts from another room, after which David (“Please, call me David”) huffs and playfully rolls his eyes. “We’re like a family here,” he explains, leading me into their warm, sun-drenched kitchen, “I don’t think I know any other way to do this, to be honest.”

“This,” of course, being the campaign. The reason I’ve shown up here at all, to share this historical candidacy with a country that has proven to be far more interested than David expected it to be.

“The truth is, no,” he admitted over our tea, “I didn’t really expect this.”

A turn about the house reveals a number of familiar sights─a mix of running shoes and formalwear lined up by the door, coats on their hooks, framed photos on the mantle or hanging on the fridge. I note a young Emma in a number of these photos, to which David confirms their personal history, that of being pseudo-siblings, which most people are tangentially aware of, but the way David explains, it has a lot more to do with his campaign than you might think.

Soon after Emma Swan had moved to town to live with her aforementioned grandmother, she had met David at school, and the two quickly became inseparable.

“My grandma was a sweet lady,” Emma had shared, albeit reluctantly, “but she was pretty old. Not really prepared to have a young kid. David and his mom became my family, more or less.” When I’ve spoken to others who knew the Nolans, the stories seem to follow a similar thread. It was nearly impossible to know them and not be treated as if they had known you your entire life.

“That was what my mother believed,” David says, a resolute smile on his face, “everyone deserves to have a family.”

It might seem an unusual tactic for the candidate to take, but having spoken with Emma Swan, and having spent time with David and Killian in their home, I’m not so sure the harsher criticisms are especially valid.

“He’s a bit inclined to picking up strays, isn’t he?” Killian starts, politely if not vaguely uncomfortable. The two of us are walking through the field behind their house, and truly, it is a beautiful piece of land. “And what are we all,” he finishes, somewhat distantly, “if not a country of wanderers?"

Most people have a general understanding of Killian’s background. Born in London to an absent single mother who passed when he was about 17, a brother serving in the Royal Navy; teaches literature, unreasonably handsome, perhaps inclined to appear in viral videos─“Surprised you lasted this long,” he says, laughing. “Haven’t you lot gotten sick of that story yet?”

Unfortunately for Killian, though somewhat fortuitously for the campaign, that now famous clip, of the man in question throwing an unequivocal fist into the cheekbone of a far-right activist, has earned him some degree of popularity in progressive circles, though he contends he had absolutely no plans for such an outcome.

“It was satisfying before the entire country knew about it,” he concludes, with a blend of both seriousness and charm that can be challenging for most people to pull off. “And I’d do it again in a bloody heartbeat.”

“God bless Killian Jones,” Emma had sighed when I’d first mentioned it to her, “that man’s righteous anger could be the thing that gets us elected.”

Killian himself isn’t quite ready to admit that, but he is glad to help his husband in anyway he can, even at the expense of his own anonymity. Which, he did admit, was a serious concern at first.

“We’d spent so many years searching for this,” he explained, glancing pointedly at our surroundings, the sight of their now smoking chimney peeking over the tops of the trees. “I wasn’t sure I was ready to give it up.”

But now, he says, the doubts seem to have all but faded.

“There’s always moments of insecurity, sure,” he admits, “but I think it’s worth it.”

The Nolan-Jones household is cluttered─but not in a way that might leave you feeling suspicious of their character. True, it’s cluttered in a way you might not presume a presidential candidate’s house to be. Maybe you would consider the “right candidate,” to be so obnoxiously Type A that their home be something akin to a serial killer’s lair. If that is what you were expecting, I am sorry to say that his house is very much not that. This house is cluttered in a way that our lives create clutter. Like their "family-oriented" campaign style, the ordinariness of their home and their lives prior to this event, reveals quite a bit more than you might think. We exist in a day and age seemingly obsessed with the idea of authenticity, and while I've grown to despise the word, it seems to have been given new life here, even though their kitchen did happen to smell of freshly baked cookies during my visit.

At the end of the day, no one knows how this campaign is going to shake out. Politics have never been predictable, no matter what many pundits and strategists claim, but if there’s one thing we might always learn to expect, it is that "electability" is a true falsehood. I don’t know if Mayor David Nolan will become the first openly gay President of the United States, and neither does he, but that doesn’t seem to be the point.

“It may seem trite to some, but it is about hope,” David said in the few moments before I left, hands resting in his pockets, his gaze tired yet contented, “I think our 44th president had that part right.”

In an era of such unrelenting cynicism, it can be difficult to find the silver lining of it all, but as I drove back down the long, winding driveway in the moonlight, the sight of Killian Jones and David Nolan waving in my rearview mirror, my heart felt a little less heavy.

Jasmine Badur is a freelance political correspondent with Time, BuzzFeed News, and others. She is currently on the road following a number of Democratic candidates running for President, including Mayor David Nolan. She can be found on Twitter @badurjofficial.

[ogproducts]

How to use the disinfection spray, car waxing, disinfectant sanitizer, best insect Repellent, Mosquito Repellent.

Waxing a Brand New Car

What all the fuss is about

It’s shiny. It’s new. It gleams in the sunlight. Your brand new car. You have done hours of research to find just the right one, and now you have it. It’s yours. How do you keep it looking so nice? What’s all the fuss about waxing a new car? Why is it so important? When should you do it? And how should you do it?

Having the dealer or an auto body shop wax your car is always an option. This article is assuming that you are wanting to wax your vehicle yourself.

Why You Should Wax Your Car

You new beauty will be exposed to all the elements. While you are staying dry and clean sitting inside of it while cruising down the road, it is taking a beating. The elements don’t hold back – rain, snow, road salt, bugs, bird poop, the salty sea air (if you live close to the ocean), the list goes on. Your vehicle’s paint protects the metal body of the car from rust. The last thing you want to see on your new car is premature rust spots. Waxing regularly can prevent this. Applying wax 2-4 times a year is recommended. Waxing is not the same as washing. Down below are the basic steps to effectively wax your car.

How to Wax it Properly

Ask any car lover and they will tell you how they wax their car. With so many brands and products on the market there are several options. However, many will agree with the following basics:

Wash     – never use dish washing detergent. You need a properly pH balanced     cleaner. Most advertised car washing detergents are suitable. This is a     crucial step to remove loose debris and contaminants.

Clean     – once the initial wash is complete and your car is dry, it is time to     inspect for stuck on debris. Tree sap, bird droppings, pollen, and brake     dust may not come off with the initial wash. A good way to check is to rub     your hand across the surface of your vehicle. If it feels gritty, grab a     clay bar and rub it over the gritty parts. It’s a mild abrasive that is     designed to effectively finish cleaning the cars surface.

Polish     – not everyone insists on this step and some lump it in with the cleaning     step, but it is definitely not the same as applying wax. Applying a     polishing coat is what will the paint have it’s shiny, reflective gleam.     Some polishes help restore oils to the paint. Be careful not to remove dry     polish as this can scratch the paint.

Wax     – This step is what protects the sheen, finish, and paint. It’s     recommended to use a microfiber, but others may suggest another type of     applicator. Apply the wax, let it sit as long as indicated on the bottle     you use, and remove it in the order you applied it. Then repeat until the     car is completely sealed.

We highly recommend following these steps in a shady area. If the sun is out and hot it can create water spots while washing and make it more difficult to avoid the polish or wax drying too quickly.

DIY Natural Disinfectant Spray

Ditch the Lysol and antibacterial sprays for good with this DIY Natural Disinfectant Spray. It’s so easy to make and will sanitize without the harsh chemicals.

DIY Natural Disinfectant Spray (Homemade Lysol)

Ditch the Lysol and antibacterial sprays for good with this DIY Natural Disinfectant Spray. It’s so easy to make and will sanitize without the harsh chemicals.

It never fails. With three boys in the house, there’s a constant influx of germs in the house from my kids playing outside and in a creek near our house. They’re always coming home with critters too like geckos, turtles (seriously), crawfish and even birds. I usually shoo them back outside with said critters but not before they get their hands on doorknobs, walls, tables, and other surfaces in my home.

And no matter how many times I tell them to wash their hands… well, sometimes germs just happen. That’s why I’m so happy to have a natural alternative to Lysol and other antibacterial sprays for my home.

The funny thing is that I was THAT mom who had the bleach wipes and cleaned every surface of the house with them. I remember one time I was on my hands and knees cleaning the floor to keep them “clean” for my son (who was a crawling baby back then). I just cringe thinking about it now. I probably exposed him to chemical toxins that were far more harmful to his health than if I just used soap and water to clean the floors.

My kids have definitely been the turning point for me in transitioning to a chemical-free lifestyle. We’ve already gotten rid of all of our household cleaners and now basically use this one for everything.

But here’s the thing… germs still happen and sometimes you just want to disinfect. So what can you use if it’s not Lysol or bleach?

It’s actually pretty easy – it’s just all those TV commercials have us all thinking we need bleach wipes or some toxic spray can to disinfect and get rid of germs when really we CAN use natural alternatives.

Natural Disinfectants

There are a handful of products you can use to naturally disinfect and sanitize your home. You probably already have them in your home: vinegar, rubbing alcohol, and hydrogen peroxide. They are all pretty effective in killing germs and sanitizing surfaces and toys. In fact, I typically like to fill a tub full of water and add about 1-2 cups of hydrogen peroxide to easily disinfect toys. I then drain and voila! Clean toys.

But here’s the thing… vinegar and rubbing alcohol have such a strong scent. I don’t clean often with them because of that. Usually the smell dissipates after a while, but they’re not always the best choice when you want to sanitize AND have the house smell good too.

I’d say of the three, hydrogen peroxide has the most mellow scent but it can’t always be used if you’re spraying fabrics (as it is a natural bleach).

So what’s the other alternative? Vodka. Oh yeah…

The Meaning of Clean: Sanitizers, Disinfectants, and Sterilizers

While the general population may use terms like sterilizer, disinfectant and sanitizer interchangeably, they actually have very specific definitions according to the government agency that regulates them, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). These definitions include what percentage of pathogens must be killed, in what specific  amount of time they must be killed, and what protocols must be tested to achieve registration. All of these parameters are defined by the EPA and are not chosen or designated by the manufacturer.

Before delving into these terms, there is one basic term that we have to explore: Clean. There is a formal definition of “clean” when it comes to regulation. Items must be cleaned before they are sanitized, disinfected, or sterilized. Cleaning involves removing surface debris and foreign material using water, detergent, or enzymatic products. This is a necessary step because the high-level disinfection and sterilization processes cannot work effectively when foreign material is present. In the EPA-required instructions for use, all of the following products carry disclaimers about first cleaning the item to be sanitized, disinfected, or sterilized.

Sanitizers

By the EPA’s definition, sanitizers must kill 99.9% of bacteria within two hours of exposure. Up until recently, this category was made up of chemicals such as sprays, gels, and topical agents which had similar characteristics:

Toxic chemicals not suitable for extended exposure

Non-continuous kill (must be used regularly)

Must be repeated after recontamination

Since 2012, however, sanitizers now include two hard surfaces: Copper alloys and copper oxide infused hard surfaces. These surfaces had to be categorized as sanitizers as they are the first of their kind - a surface that kills 99.0% of bacteria in under two hours. So even though they are characterized as sanitizers, they do not have the characteristics listed above. Instead, they are:

Non-toxic, safe materials suitable for extended exposure

Continuous kill surfaces (is not a process that has to be repeated)

Effective even after recontamination

Disinfectants

To be categorized as a disinfectant, a product must kill 100% of bacteria, fungi, and viruses within 15 minutes of exposure. Because they are stronger than sanitizers, they are also more toxic and are therefore not approved for any exposure to human tissues. They are only to be used on hard, inanimate objects and are available both for general and medical use. Household disinfectants include bathroom cleaners, water purifiers, and pool chemicals. In medical facilities, disinfectants are used to clean equipment that does not come into contact with mucous membranes or cross the skin barrier such as floors, walls, linens, toilets, IV poles, and doorknobs. Like sanitizers, they do not kill continuously or after recontamination, so consistent reapplication is required. Unfortunately, some bacteria have developed resistance to certain disinfectants, so a combination of chemicals is required in healthcare settings.

Sterilizers

The most biocidal of the three categories, sterilizers must achieve the most stringent protocols. Sterilizers must kill 100% of all forms of microbial life within 2 minutes. This includes bacteria, fungi, viruses, and spores (the term sporicidal is often used to indicate that spores, the most difficult form to kill, are destroyed by a particular product). Sterilizers are used on instruments and materials that come into contact with mucous membranes and cross the skin barrier, including scalpels, IVs, needles, catheters, wound dressings, and any implantable device (such as a pacemaker). Sterilizers can be devices such as autoclaves, which use high-pressure steam, as well as liquid chemicals. Users must have specific training and certification to assure that the required degree of sterilization is achieved. As with most sanitizers and disinfectants, sterilization must be performed regularly and after any contamination as the product does not kill continuously.

Insect Repellent Buying Guide

Lyme. Powassan. West Nile. Zika. The list of insect-borne diseases to worry about seems to get longer—and scarier—every year. Whether you’re enjoying the great outdoors in your own backyard or on a tropical island, when you apply insect repellent, you want the best, most effective protection from biting bugs.

Our ratings identify which products work best against mosquitoes and ticks. (We no longer test our products against ticks, but past test results and our research indicate that any product that protects you from mosquito bites is also likely to protect you from tick bites.)

Choosing the right repellent matters: Our top products provided several hours of protection, and some of our lowest-scoring ones failed in as little as 30 minutes.

Check out our picks; they’ll help take the sting out of summer.

How We Test

We begin our insect repellent tests by applying a standard dose of repellent to a measured area of skin on our test subjects’ arms. (The standard dose is determined from the EPA product testing guidelines.)

After 30 minutes, these brave volunteers then place their arms into the first of two cages of 200 disease-free mosquitoes for five minutes. Our testers watch closely to see what happens inside the cage, and they count up every time a mosquito lands on a subject’s arm, uses its proboscis (its long mouth) to probe the skin in an attempt to find a capillary, or bites the subject’s arm and begins to feed—which the testers can tell by watching for the insect’s abdomen to turn from gray to red or brown.

After five minutes, the subjects withdraw their arms, then repeat the process by placing their arms into a second cage of disease-free mosquitoes of a different species, for another five minutes. The subjects then walk around for 10 minutes, to stimulate sweating—this is to mimic a real-world setting, in which users might be active while wearing repellent.

Half an hour later, this procedure is repeated once, and then again once every hour after that until a repellent fails our test, or until 8 hours have passed since it was applied. We consider a failure to be two confirmed mosquito bites in one five-minute session inside the cage, or one confirmed bite in each of two consecutive 5-minute sessions.

What is the Best Mosquito Repellent?

After more than five years of full-time travel, often visiting mosquito ridden countries, I’ve finally found of what is the best mosquito repellent. When I first wrote this post in 2013, I was about to travel to Africa and planned to put some repellents to the test.

I trialling a DEET based product, Repel 55, and a natural product, Incognito, and this article was originally a comparison of those two repellents. However, over the years I’ve trialled a much bigger range of mosquito repellents, so I’ve updated and expanded this article to give you the low-down on all the products I’ve used, how well they’ve worked and I’ll share with you the repellent I finally found that I’m 100% happy with.

Obviously, this article is completely subjective – what works for one person might not work for another and, ultimately, the effectiveness of a repellent can all come down to how well you apply it.

A little about me and my unscientific testing methodology

I have the blood that mosquitos like: I’ve travelled to many mosquito riddled places from South and Central America to Asia to Africa and the one thing that’s been consistent is my propensity for getting bitten. Whether I like it or not, mosquitos like me. In a room full of people, I’m always likely to report a bite first. In fact, I’m that person you want to sit or sleep next to because the chances are the mosquitos will be so busy feasting on me, they’ll leave you alone.

I rarely stay indoors or cloak my body at sunset: What doesn’t help in my bid not to get bitten is that I’m partial to the alluring concept of the sunset cocktail (when mosquitoes are at their most active). I’m also likely to disregarding the sensible advice to cover myself from head to toe in trousers and long sleeved tops – because, let’s face it, sun dresses go so much better with sun downers, I pack too light to include bulky cover-up clothes and, more importantly, I don’t want to be sitting, sweating uncomfortably and dehydrating over my cocktail.

I’m also pretty shoddy at the whole application process – I always miss my ankles and big toes and I wash my hands immediately after applying repellent, so the repellent that actually makes it onto my skin always has to work pretty darn hard to keep the biters at bay.

I hate mosquito nets: ever since I was a child, I’ve always needed to have my feet uncovered while I sleep, which is kind of incompatible with a mosquito net. But not only that, the nets that are small enough to carry seem to create a cocoon of humidity around you… and that’s assuming you can find one that stays up and doesn’t gape while you sleep. In short, I’m not a fan and I won’t use one unless it’s already installed.

I do use anti-malarials: in places like Africa where malaria and dengue are real issues, I do follow the sensible advice and use anti-malarial medication.

[softjeon]

Drown in me | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Pirate!Yoongi x Siren!Jungkook • Genre: Angst, Fluff | Pirate!AU / Siren!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 9,3k | written with @cassiavioletblue • Disclaimer: mentioning of blood, alcohol, abuse, nsfw content

↳  “When I sing…people do weird things. Strange things happen.” Yoongi laughed awkwardly but stopped right away when he realized that Jungkook was serious about what he had said. This wasn’t a scared little boy trying to make use of some fairytale to scare the captain of the ship he’s been brought on into submission. He believed what he said.

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The deafening boom of cannon echoed across the water. There was smoke billowing and the floor was wet. His eyes were wide in panic flickering around the room, seeing water break its way into the ship, the agonizing cries of wounded people in the background. Blood splashed everywhere, draining off the deck through the scuppers into the sea. There was another great guns fired, and he could hear them cheer when the shots splintered the ships hull above the waterline. Pulling at his restraints, he let out a muffled cry. The ground shook, and part of the deck slid down as an exploding cannon ball splintered it completely. Immediately, he heard a scream of anguish. Then it was quiet.

With the hole being torn into the ship, Jungkook could see the intruders. Their black, ripped and dirty clothing giving away immediately what their business was. His eyes widened and if it wasn’t for the cloth in his mouth, Jungkook would have gasped. Pushing himself back into the corner, Jungkook pulled his knees in, while his eyes couldn’t tear their gaze off what was happening. The crew pressed against the mainmast; fear written in each of their faces.

“Let them drown,” A rough voice called out, effectively sending a shiver down Jungkook’s spine and only when one of the sailors tried to run, did he see where the voice had come from. He was younger than he’d expected and by the way he was holding himself up, the presence that was surrounding him Jungkook knew it was the captain. The leader. He walked with such marvelous dexterity that everyone else gave an involuntary gasp of admiration and fear at the same time. And from where he hid, he could see the pirate push his sword into the man’s body, removing it effortlessly only seconds after. Jungkook pressed his eyes shut in a weak attempt to wish himself somewhere else and not to be here, on the middle of the ocean bound to his restraints and a sinking ship.

“Bring me everything you can find! Quick!”

The order made Jungkook snap his eyes open again and then he could hear footsteps coming closer. There were people roaming around the ship, searching for gold, food…anything that was worth something, while the crew was being tied up against the wooden mast, victims to be drown and sink with the ship. Jungkook gulped heavily. He would die…his destiny finally catching up to him and letting him drown at the bottom of the ocean bound and chained up. A sudden shadow over him made him freeze within seconds and Jungkook looked up slowly, every muscle in his body stiffened up.

“Captain!” The young man hovering above him called out, a crooked smirk appeared on his lips and Jungkook began to shake his head in panic, holding his hands up in defense, “I found something that you might like…”

Normally his men were supposed to just bring him stuff that he liked so when someone called out for him Yoongi furrowed his brows, “What is it?”

Either someone was trying to make himself feel important which would annoy him out of his mind and probably lead to a little more bloodshed than necessary today or there was actually something interesting for him to see. He hoped it was the latter. He normally stayed on deck for safety reasons because it was easy for the hijacked ship’s crew members to hide there and some in their desperation would try to take whoever approached them down with them but Yoongi was bored today and confident that he would be able to defend himself, so he followed the shouting.

“I swear to god if this is just some piece of jewelry that you found pretty or something that’s too heavy for you to carry so you lured me down here to help you then you won’t forget... oh!” He stopped mid-sentence as he saw what had made his crew member call for him. There was a boy being held in the belly of the ship. And he was pretty as hell. Yoongi’s surprised look turned into a smirk. “Hello pretty one! Who are you that they kept you down here? Such a waste to keep your beauty to the shadows.” He reached forwards and ripped the piece of cloth from the boy’s mouth.

Jungkook flinched, gasping for air the moment the cloth was gone, his eyes wide in panic. He bit onto his tongue, not sure whether he should speak up or not. Would they kill him either way? Jungkook yelped, when a rough grip on his neck pushed him down. “I…I…’m not s-sure,” Jungkook coughed, his voice sounding rough and his throat dry, “T-they kidnapped m-me.” It was only half of the truth and Jungkook blinked up at the man, his dark orbs staring straight back at him, making him shiver. His own fearful eyes begging him not to hurt him.

“Well then today is your lucky day because we just killed your kidnappers. As you were part of their possession you are now part of mine. Though I would never keep you in the dark like this. I have lots of candles in my bedroom.” Toying with the boy was way too fun not to do it. He wondered why he was here because he didn’t look as if they had done anything else to him but lock him away so they either had kidnapped him only recently - or the pretty little thing was lying through his teeth, maybe a ship-boy who had committed a crime. Either way he was planning on taking him with him because it would certainly be entertaining and a breath of fresh air because being surrounded by the same hand full of people every day and every night on his ship could get pretty boring. He’d make sure his newest ‘conquest’ would make it worthwhile having him on his ship.

The young man only gulped hard and even though it meant being kidnapped again, it was better than to drown alive. Jungkook stumbled, the sudden tough grip shoving him forward letting him waver dangerously. He had been starved, the crew only given him the necessary to survive and to keep him alive to be used. His muscles haven’t been stretched like this in a while, cowering in the corner of the boat was giving him much exercise. He was exhausted. Jungkook blinked the little shiny dots away, trying to concentrate as they stepped onto the deck of the slow sinking ship.

Now that he stood there, he could see the dreadful dimensions of their killing. A few crew men still bound to the mast, begging to be kept alive but their fate was sealed – they would drown with their ship. A sudden gasp came from them when they saw how Yoongi’s men maneuvered him over the plank and towards their ship without a cloth in his mouth.

“You fools,” One of them whispered as the captain passed them struggling against his restraints. He spat right onto his feet with a disgusted expression, his eyes flickering between the boy that barely could keep himself up and the pirate. “He’s going to be the death of you. Be warned. He’ll drown you.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Yoongi ripped that man’s shirt to wipe his shoe clean with it and then put it into the man’s mouth just like they had done it with Jungkook. “At least we have something in common than he and I as I like drowning ships too. Could be the basis for a great relationship, don’t you think?” In front of him Jungkook stumbled and almost fell onto the planks that had become slippery with blood. “Let me.” He nudged the man aside to lead their new prisoner and then hoisted the boy up into his arms. He could feel how thin he was, how lithe he felt in his arms. It might be a funny thing to feel after slaughtering men, but he got angry. There were rules to being a pirate like there should be to anything really and letting your prisoners starve was not one of them - unless Jungkook had tried to kill the crew members first. “Is it true what they said? Did you try to drown them - or kill them in some other way? I’ll find out if you lie so you better don’t or what they did to you will feel like vacation.”

Jungkook held onto the pirate with a tight grip, too scared that the other might let him fall. It felt personal. Their faces so close to each other that he could see the smudged black around his eyes, but nonetheless the pirates face looked flawless – almost soft. He stared right back into his eyes, getting lost in the darkness for a moment before Jungkook shook his head softly. “No,” He said, keeping their eye contact to show that he was honest. Jungkook had never tried to kill anyone – not on purpose at least.

“Then I hope you’ll be my guest at a little private dinner in my cabin tonight. I figure those people owe you some food.” They always took all of the crew’s food and water - if they hadn’t surrender that was. If they had then Yoongi only took their money or other valuables but if they tried to kill him and his crew and hurt his beautiful ship then he saw red. And the hijacked ship would go down with all its men.

The money was shared as was the food and of course Yoongi got the biggest percentage so he could definitely afford a private dinner with his newest addition to the ship. Though they always had enough food in general. Yoongi wasn’t a traditionalist, he adapted so instead of the usual food and rations he stored what he picked up from tropical islands or foreign salesmen, dried fruits and vitamins and everything else that would keep his men healthy. He had seen what scurvy did to sailors and he refused to end up like that.

“O-okay,” Jungkook felt weak when Yoongi put him back on his own feet, a bit too wobbly as he took a few steps forward. He looked over his shoulder, where two of Yoongi’s men had followed them as if they were the captains guards. As if he would run any second. Jungkook chuckled. As if he could with how weak he felt.

“C-can I ask for your name?” Jungkook turned back, furrowing his brows. Something in his gut told him that he should know about this crew, this ship and it’s captain. This wasn’t just any pirate. Unfortunately, Jungkook hadn’t been with normal people or on land for a long time. “You can call me black captain. Or just savior will do as well.” He smirked, straightening out his captains jacket. It was black, as deeply black as it could be after sailing for a while with saltwater and salty air all around them but Yoongi made sure to dye it as often as he had the chance. It made a nice contrast with the gold buttons and tassels on his shoulders - and it also didn’t show blood that easily. It had become his signature feature, therefore the ‘black captain’ even though his crew used to joke how it was because his soul was as black as the devil.

“Will you give me something to call you in return or should I just call you pretty one?”

“Black?” Jungkook cocked up an eyebrow and then followed Yoongi inside of his cabin, when his heart picked up its pace. He heard stories before. Everyone, on land or on sea, feared the crew. They were ruthless and absolutely mad for gold. At least that’s what he had picked up from the people. He eyed the captain once more, his gaze flickering over to the pirates setting up the table for them before he asked, “People say you’re mad.” He leaned his head to the side, thinking for a moment, “You seem pretty sane to me.”

Jungkook took one of the chairs and sat down with an exhausted sigh. “People call me all sorts of things,” He answered, his eyes transfixed on a carafe that was filled with something that looked like juice or wine – Jungkook wasn’t so sure. “But you can call me Jungkook. Just…that. It’s what I prefer.” Mumbling the last words, he gulped hard against the dryness of his throat.

“Oh, don’t let yourself be fooled, of course I’m not sane. I can’t be when my reputation says something so different.” He chuckled. To be honest he liked it, being known as the wild, ruthless, crazy black captain. It made their job a lot easier. They hadn’t had to kill a whole ship like they had done today in quite a while which meant less risk, less injuries and easier access to gold. Though apparently too little damage made people think they could have a chance at defending themselves. At least it had brought him this little gem. He raised his eyebrows at the boy, “Oh? What other sort of things are you called? Besides the obvious like pretty and precious.” Of course, he called him that to tease but the boy was quite beautiful. Now that he thought about it too beautiful to have been on a ship for longer because wind and sun and work usually started to show after a while unless you were the captain and could stay under deck.

“You’ve heard one of them,” Jungkook eyes turned emotionless for a moment. Devil. Witch. Possessed. Crazy. Strange. Haunting. He’s been called many things. And none of them got close to what he really was. “Can I?” The younger pointed at the bread, his voice sounding a little softer and when the captain nodded he ripped a chunk off it and took a delicious bite. Closing his eyes, Jungkook moaned at the taste, before reaching for the carafe, filling his cup to gulp it all down hastily.

Yoongi quickly gripped the younger’s wrists to keep him from swallowing so hastily. He could see the boy’s eyes go wide in fear, either that the food would be taken away from him or that Yoongi would hurt him he didn’t know. “Take it slow, Jungkook. I figured you haven’t eaten in a while and if you eat like that you’ll throw it all up. We have enough food here and I won’t take anything away from you so enjoy your meal. Also, I’d like for us to keep talking during it so you stuffing your mouth makes it a little difficult.” He let him go when Jungkook showed that he had understood and took a piece of bread himself while continuing to watch him. He wasn’t quite finished with figuring out the kid’s mystery. “So where are you from Jungkookie?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders in response, “M’ not sure. I never lived for long in a town, so I just…am here and there. I was given in care to a foster home when I was young. Somewhere…north?” He gulped down the food, “I’m not quite sure where we are now actually. I lost direction a while ago. Which sea are we sailing on?”

“Captain,” A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and a tall man peeked his head through, eyeing Jungkook quickly before he pushed a small leather bound book in front of him. “I found something that you should know about.” Namjoon’s voice was soft, yet Jungkook could feel the sudden heaviness on his lungs, the feel of danger nearing once more. He had learned to trust his instincts. While the waves were crashing against the side of the ship loudly, Jungkook looked up at Yoongi. He could feel the beating of his heart steadily against his chest, the nervousness crawling up his spine.

Yoongi took the book from Namjoon’s hands. He was a confidant of his and Namjoon knew when to interrupt him and when not so he looked at it right away knowing that it must be something to deserve his immediate attention. When he read the last page though it was like reading one of the usual pirate fairytales of magical treasures and hidden maps and unspeakable wealth for the people who were able to find both. He furrowed his brows and looked up at Namjoon who just gave him a sign to start from the beginning. As it turned out it wasn’t a fairytale book - it was the logbook of the captain whose ship they had sunk. And apparently the man had been on a quest to find the treasure that he had written about at the end. Now that Yoongi looked more closely he could see small notes on the side, like ‘boy = map’ and ‘keep him shut up at all times he’s DANGEROUS’ when Yoongi looked up again to tell Jungkook that apparently the captain had gone insane and thought him to be a dangerous creature the words stayed stuck in his throat. Jungkook looked as if he knew what he had just read. And suddenly what he had said before about being called names made a lot more sense. It had almost sounded as if Jungkook had gotten used to it. As if… it had happened multiple times.

“Jungkook…” The boy avoided his gaze, holding onto the last piece of bread that he had taken as if he expected Yoongi to rip it away from him. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Jungkook licked his lips nervously, not really sure what to do or what to say. Taking a deep breath, Jungkook opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked at Namjoon for a second, then at Yoongi. It was as if the pirate read his mind, ordering his confidante to step out of the room, who only protested quietly. He had read the notes, the warnings. He didn’t trust the young man. And still he closed the door behind himself, leaving them to some privacy.

“I can’t tell you anything about a map, nor do I know anything about a treasure,” Jungkook spoke up as soon as they were alone. “I didn’t lie about where I came from, or about ever wanting to hurt anyone.” He hesitated, biting his lip. His voice was quiet when he was talking again, almost a whisper and he sounded like he was scared – off himself. “When I sing…people do weird things. Strange things happen.”

Yoongi laughed awkwardly but stopped right away when he realized that Jungkook was serious about what he had said. This wasn’t a scared little boy trying to make use of some fairytale to scare the captain of the ship he’s been brought on into submission. He believed what he said. And even though sailors could be superstitious and gullible there must have been at least some reason why they kidnapped him. The sailors had been adamant till the end that Jungkook would make them drown. Why would it be the last thing they had to say if they didn’t believe it?

“You mean that, don’t you? Are you telling me your mother was a mermaid next? Or that you’re a siren? I hate to break it to you, but they’re usually described with long hair and fish tails. And you have neither. So, what do you have to proof your theory. Only your singing? I would be stupid to ask you to show that to me if it’s really that dangerous, so you need me to believe you without proof? Just like that? Why did the others keep you under deck? Did you make someone go crazy with your voice? Or do you simply use your beauty to make people fall in love with you? That’s the fastest way to make someone go crazy over you, isn’t it?”

Jungkook shook his head, of course it was just funny to him. Pirate tales were just tales in the end. Stories they told each other to keep themselves entertained.

Jungkook stood up and reached out his hand for him. “I’m not stupid, Black. I won’t hurt you,” His voice turned more melodic, softer and Jungkook knew it would reach his aim. “They were scared of things they don’t understand. Are you scared, too?”

There was something new in the boy’s voice, an underlying tone, something velveteen and alluring. It drew him in, even more than Jungkook’s beauty did and with horror Yoongi realized that it had an effect on him. He wanted to help the boy and to make sure he was fine, he wanted to be useful to him - as if their roles were reversed and Jungkook was the captain and he the prisoner. Yoongi quickly got up, batting Jungkook’s hand away. “Show me.” His voice was shaking. He was scared. Who wouldn’t if the embodiment of all the nighttime stories and fairytales stood in front you, looking as beautiful and harmless as everyone told you they would while knowing how dangerous and powerful and cruel they were.

He took a bit of soft wax and used it to seal his ears. If Jungkook’s voice was the magic then not hearing his song would make him safe. Then he took the boy by his arm and a knife from his belt and dragged him back up on deck.

“Sing. I want to see what you’re capable off. But don’t harm them. Stop before anything happens or any of them is harmed - or else you’ll regret it.” He placed the knife against Jungkook’s throat, the cool metal just resting against his skin even though Yoongi was ready to use it. If Jungkook wouldn’t stop singing in time then he would make him stop.

The younger closed his eyes, his hands shaking, so he folded them together. Taking a deep breath, Jungkook tried to keep control over what he sang this time. It still was something he felt he lost control over way too many times. He snapped his eyes open and focused on one of the pirates, as he began to sing, and his voice was flowing around them just like the waves hitting and washing over them.

“Come to me, I let you in.

All the secrets that I keep, hidden in my blood.

Slipping right through your hands, you’re going down with me.”

It was just like Jungkook had said, as soon as he had started singing all the attention was on him. Of course, if their captain came on deck with a boy while holding a knife to his throat then his crew would naturally come looking to ask what this was about. But this wasn’t what was happening. Before Jungkook had opened his mouth they looked confused or shocked but as soon as he started singing their expression changed.

Namjoon was the first to react as he was closest to them. He looked as if he had never heard or seen something so beautiful and went over to them, reaching out as if he needed to hear Jungkook sing from a little distance as possible. Yoongi put a little more pressure on the knife, using the flat side to not cut Jungkook’s skin right away to signalize the younger than he didn’t want any bewitched crewmembers coming towards them. Namjoon stopped then and Yoongi wondered what exactly Jungkook was singing for them to listen right away. He wished he could hear Jungkook sing without feeling the effects though what he was seeing was enough to have him cautious. No one on deck was doing what they were supposed to, some had closed their eyes, swaying in what must be the rhythm to Jungkook’s song, others behaved completely random, Tae was playing with a few shells he must have collected, a dazed smile on his face that told Yoongi he was pretty much gone.

“Fall in my trap,

and on your knees. In waves, let it wash over you,

hold your breath and let it bury you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered up, when he gasped. He hadn’t realized that there was someone on look-out, high above the ship itself. He really had tried to keep an eye on everyone, to not make anyone hurt himself. His song broke off right away and the young man, whose leg was dangling dangerously over the edge was falling back into his little cabin, coming up only seconds after with the most confused look on his face, rubbing the back of his head. Namjoon was on his knees in front of Jungkook, staring up at the younger, his dazed eyes getting back it’s clearance and the pirate blinked a couple of times, a headache settling at the back of his mind. Whatever just happened, he didn’t know, all Namjoon did though was that he was addicted. For a moment he had been released from everything else, only Jungkook existed.

Like a drug, something that he would need. Jungkook stared right back at him, the knife still too close to his throat and Namjoon stumbled back.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Yoongi’s voice sounded calm but he was anything but. A siren. The boy in front of him was a fucking mythical creature living to drown sailors and as he had seen until mere seconds ago it worked perfectly on absolutely every one of his crew. He would be no exception if his ears weren’t blocked. He took the headscarf out of his pocket that he used in storms or under scorching sun to shield his face and folded it. It took him a while, with the knife still pressed against Jungkook’s throat he only had one hand free, so he pressed it against his side to make it work. “Open up,” He hissed before stuffing the scarf into Jungkook’s mouth and tying it tightly at the back. He saw that Namjoon was talking to him, so he gave him a sign to shut up before freeing his ears from the wax. “What?”

Jungkook whined quietly and still he let him stuff his mouth like the others had done with him all the time. It would mean nothing to a pirate if he’d promise to not sing and that he had no use in hurting people. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this. Jungkook barely understood himself what he was or why people needed him, going as far as kidnapping him, when all his voice brought was people going mad and wanting to drown themselves in the end. It felt like a cruel joke of life. He barely had anything, and it only ripped away more from him, leaving him with nothing but empty and tied hands.

Jungkook was scared now. Before the pirate had been almost kind to him and the thought of starving again, doing the same procedure all over was taunting him. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? He didn’t know anything about a treasure, nor a map. He had barely figured out what he was when he was younger. Half Siren. Half Human. And yet, there was so much more he didn’t understand. About the things he could do, his abilities where he really came from and what had happened to his mother. He feared that Yoongi would punish him just as much as the others did, thinking that he would know and just didn’t tell them. Jungkook just felt tired. All he wanted was to sleep.

Namjoon’s brows were furrowed deeply as he stared at his captain and the boy, waiting patiently for his captain to take out the wax. “What just happened? What the fuck is he?” He looked at Jungkook more thoroughly, fearing the abilities of the boy but at the same time he wondered if the tales were really true and the boy could lead them to gold. More than they could ever imagine. And in a weird, wicked way, Namjoon wanted Jungkook to sing again just so he could hear the melody once more.

"He's a siren! A creepy, deadly, fucking mythical creature is what he is." He dragged Jungkook towards the mainmast and gripped one of the ropes they used to tie their ship to the docks. It was thick and heavy with a rough texture and Yoongi thought that if it held a whole ship then it would surely be able to hold back a siren. "Help me tie him to the mast," He demanded, waving Namjoon closer to them who seemed afraid to even touch him. "Don't worry, he can't bewitch you as long as his mouth is closed. I'm touching him right now and I wouldn't hesitate to cut his throat if he made so much as a wrong move or tries to speak."

Jungkook was writhing, shaking his head as he tried to speak and tell them that he wouldn’t sing. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But his words sounded way too muffled and he wasn’t even sure himself if what he was saying out loud was right. “Please,” Jungkook mumbled, gulping heavily, hating the taste of the cloth in his mouth but both were too strong. So, he gave in, again, just like had done before. Jungkook averted his gaze, his eyes locked on the wooden floor instead of the pirates.

“So, it’s true, too?” Namjoon asked, when Jungkook finally stopped struggling and sunk in on himself only getting held up by the ropes around his body, “The tale? How can he be a siren. He’s a man.”

"I'm not sure. But I guess as most sailors would notice a woman first maybe the males just weren't mentioned. Or...or maybe they are shapeshifters, shifting into whatever looks most stunning to the object of their magical manipulation." His eyes narrowed as he tried to see through whatever magical trick Jungkook might be doing, poking the youngers cheek. Nothing happened though and when he remembered that Jungkook had been with another Captain first and he had looked like this since he had been found by one of Yoongi's crew members so if Jungkook had not been able to see into his head from afar then he looked naturally so appealing and not because he tried to make Yoongi fall for him. He leaned over to Namjoon, toning down his voice "Do you think he has scales somewhere on his body?"  

Jungkook rolled his eyes. Scales? Shapeshifting? That was definitely something he couldn’t do. He wasn’t even a real, full siren but the captain seemed adamant to think so. A cold, salty breeze hit the young man and it made him shiver involuntarily.

Namjoon hummed and shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe you have to look for it?” A smirk pulled at his lips when Jungkook’s head snapped around. “Very thoroughly…but let me study the book first,” Namjoon turned on his heel. “I’ll tell you if I find something else until then…it’s best we keep the boy in check.”

Yoongi nodded, trusting Namjoon to explain to the others what had just happened and that they should stay away from the boy...siren. He swallowed harshly as he looked back and the younger met his gaze. He didn't look monstrous or angry just…desperate and sad. As if Yoongi had hurt him. The Captain shook his head. Sirens were Masters of manipulation; how else would they get sane men to kill themselves for them? Jungkook wanted him to doubt his decision and to feel with him. So Yoongi couldn't even let a single second of doubt come over him. He was responsible for his men and their safety.

He wouldn't let a Monster loose no matter how pretty it was.

…

Jungkook couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep. There were pirates everywhere, some nudging him with the tip of their shoe, laughing, or just eyeing him warily from a distance the whole night. Some were still afraid, thinking he was bewitched and although Namjoon had explained it, not everyone could understand. Jungkook was jerking up repeatedly and only when the bright sun was burning hot on his skin the next day, did he realize that sleep had pulled him under at some point. He groaned, sleepily blinking his eyes open when something was itching his ear. Moving his shoulder, he tried to move away from it. He felt nauseous from dehydration and his muscles were stiff and aching.

“Mhno,” Jungkook shook his head when there was another touch, this time rougher and he could hear voices. Within seconds, he stared wide eyed at a few pirates that were hovering over them, talking about him as if he wasn’t even here, when one gripped his chin roughly. “Aren’t you a pretty one.” He chuckled, patting Jungkook’s cheek in the process, “Do you really think he’s a siren? Where’s his tail then?”

“He’s hiding it! Of course, he’s hiding it. No one would want to go with him in his real form. Just look at him. He’s too pretty. No fish could be that pretty.” Another of the sailors chimed in, “I heard the captain say that he’s hiding his scales under his clothes. The captain knows such things. He’s the one who made him stop singing.” The others nodded and agreed before someone asked, “Should we take a look then?”

There was silence for a minute before the first one laughed, “What, are you scared? Scared of a fish on land? He’s bound and he can’t sing.” He held Jungkook’s head and pushed the cloth deeper into the boy’s mouth until the younger choked on it. “There, you’re not that powerful anymore without your voice, little bird.”

Jungkook tried to breathe in through his nose, turning his head away from them, kicking his legs once to make them stop coming closer. It was awful enough already the heat of the sun making him feel way too hot and nauseous. Jungkook wanted to scream at them, to let him be and that he was the one who stopped singing, not the captain. He had chosen to stop. Jungkook scoffed. Pirates – only dirty (and obviously dumb; because why the hell should he have a fish tail) men that are completely full of themselves.

He narrowed his eyes when one of them came closer again, trying to lean back as much as he could and away from his reach.

“I’d say we take a look. Maybe they are nice, and we could take them and sell them. I think he owes us for bewitching us like that. My head felt like someone had hold me underwater for too long. He can’t just come on our ship and then try to take it over with a bit of singing. He owes us compensation!” There was affirmative murmuring and one of them took out his knife. “I’m not scared, I can do it. And if he’s hiding them under his clothes then I’m afraid they need to go.” He looked Jungkook right in the eyes, a dirty smile on his lips. “How about you show us how pretty you really are, fishboy!”

Jungkook’s eyes widened immediately, flickering back and forth between the knife and the pirate coming closer. His outcry was getting muffled by the cloth as he kicked out to not let the pirate get too close. He shook his head furiously, screaming as loud as he could, when a tight grip around his neck made him stop. Breathing heavily through his nose, Jungkook froze and only his eyes followed the movement of the knife. He was pleading, eyes burning with the tears as he shook his head, trying to make them understand wordlessly. When the pirate got even closer, Jungkook took the opportunity and kicked out as hard as he could, hoping by the scream of the pirate that he had hit his crotch area. The pirate screamed in pain, backhanding Jungkook right away with the same force the younger had kicked him. There were both chuckles and fearful gasps coming from the back.

“I told you he’s not just a pretty little thing. He’s just hiding. He’s a monster with sharp teeth that would drown any of us in a second simply because it’s his nature. Don’t let him get too close to you.”

“Come over and help me tie his legs to the post if you’re that smart. I’d say we start with his legs anyway cause that’s where his tail should be, right? There must be a trace.”

“Maybe he’s even got a fin on his back!” Someone yelled but the one who found him shook his head. “No, I’ve held him when I helped him upstairs on the other ship. I would have felt it. There was nothing on his back.”

“Better make sure you’re right,” The pirate with the knife murmured and then pulled the knot around Jungkook’s ankles a little tighter. “Kicking won’t help you now, fishboy. We’ll find out what you’re hiding and then we’ll rip your pretty scales out, one by one.”

With that he made a cut right into the fabric of Jungkook’s pants, ripping it clean open with his fingers. When there was nothing unusual he continued, ripping the pants further and further until they looked more like half a skirt or a scarf than actual clothes. Jungkook struggled but there wasn’t much he could do and when the others realized that he wasn’t a threat any more they came to help, using their own knives and tools to make short work of what Jungkook was wearing. They were surrounding him like moths did with a flame, just that it wasn’t the sailors who were hurting. They were touching Jungkook without any care as if he was a doll or part of the ship and with no regard of his personal boundaries. “Do you see any?“ There was the sound of fabric ripping again and then another hand was on him, touching and groping wherever they could reach.

“Nah, not yet.“ Jungkook’s flawless, scale-less skin only spurred them on to look further, completely convinced that they would find what they were looking for in the end. They didn‘t stop before they had completely undressed him, and his former clothes were hanging on his delicate frame in bits and pieces.

…

Yoongi heard his footsteps way before the door opened, knowing it was Namjoon just from the sound of it. “Come in!” The voice of the captain startled him, when he hadn’t even knocked letting himself into his map room.

“I was awake all night reading the notes,” Namjoon waved the book a little before placing it onto the table where there was still enough room. “Do you know the tale of the mirror of chéngquán?” Namjoon raked a hand through his hair messily, “It’s what the guy believed Jungkook would lead him to.”

“A mirror?” Yoongi furrowed his brows. “I don’t need a mirror. I thought you said that there was something about a treasure in there. Or is Jungkook supposed to lead to both?” He took another sip of the rum he was drinking. It burnt on his tongue, but he liked it. And he really needed something to ground himself before he went crazy over the fact that he had a real, living, singing siren on his ship!

Namjoon chuckled and sat down, filling his own cup with rum before he explained, “The mirror of chéngquán is believed to be hidden somewhere in the middle of the ocean in midst of gold. But the real treasure is the mirror itself. It was made by a siren, a woman’s magic flowing in its reflection. Pained from the unrequited love she felt for a man, waking only the desires in others when herself she felt lost. The mirror, it can read your truest desires and will show you the way to what you truly want. The people say, she sat there every day, singing, looking into the mirror as it was the only way to see her love – until she died. Some said that her crying is still audible at night the closer you get to the cave, but no one who got close enough has ever been seen again. Her voice will make you drown, before you can even reach it. If you know where the cave is, of course. There is no map. Just the boy.” He cocked up an eyebrow, when a lopsided smile appeared on his lips, “Imagine the gold we could find if we have that mirror. If you have that artefact, anything is possible.” He took a few sips, letting that information sink in, ignoring the sudden loud stomping from above, before he leaned closer to Yoongi, “If someone can find it, then it’s you.”

Berating Namjoon for believing in fairytales didn’t feel right with an actual siren on deck so he just coughed a little awkwardly and said, “I guess I could try. I mean it’s not like we’re hunting for anything special right now and just hijacking ship after ship is a bit boring. Finding a treasure is what we need. Or honestly just the hunt would be enough. Knowing that there’s something you’re getting up for in the morning and that colors your dreams at night. I want this, Namjoon, as much as you do, but I don’t know how to get him to talk.” He bit his lip in concentration. “Maybe I should try again. Talk to him. If I gain his trust then he might open up a bit more.” The thing was just he couldn’t run around with wax in his ears all the time. And he had no idea how to protect himself from Jungkook’s voice. “Do we have something stronger on board than rum? Something… that would ruin your voice for a while if you drank it?”

Namjoon shrugged his shoulders, “I’m not sure…I don’t know what to think of the boy. Nor do I know enough about sirens, except for the tales I heard of. I’ve never saw one and have always believed they only come in shape of women. I never once heard of a siren being a man. Maybe you can tell him to just nod or shake his head,” He sighed, turning his head as he could hear loud cheering coming from above and he furrowed his brows. “I guess, the crew really needs a new goal. If there is no mirror, there still can be lots of gold right? And we can’t ever get enough of it.”

“As if I could trust him! He could make me go insane with a single song. Who knows what those sailors did to him. And I wasn’t exactly nice after I found out what he was either. If I was in his place I would hate everyone around me so I can either keep him tied up and gagged at all times - or do something to make sure he can’t use his voice while still talking. I guess I’ll try my luck with the latter. But I should take him down from deck anyway.“ He had felt safer with knowing that the boy wasn’t under deck with him and that his crew members could have an eye on him at all times as there was always someone on deck. But considering that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday or had any water at all… Yoongi’s stomach clenched uncomfortable. What if he needed more water than a human because of what he was? What if he...was dying up there? And that was what the fuzz they could hear was about? The pirate captain was on his feet within a heartbeat, grabbing a glass of whatever drinkable liquid he could find. “I… I’ll just go check on him.”  

...

Jungkook was more or less bare in front of them. But there were still no scales in sight. Absolutely nothing but smooth, soft skin littered with a few bruises where the crewmembers of the other ship had handled him too roughly. “This can‘t be!“

“He‘s still bewitching us!“

“He‘s manipulating us, to see things that aren‘t there...“ They were talking over each other, angry and hostile as if it was Jungkook‘s fault that he didn‘t have any scales on his body. As if he had personally tricked them and fooled them to have a laugh. The man with the knife who had started all this couldn‘t let go. “I swear he must have scales somewhere, he‘s not human, we all heard him sing, we felt it, what he did to us. He‘s not one of us!”

A sunburnt sailor with a scar over his face, from the edge of his eye until down to his cheekbone who hadn‘t said much so far suddenly cleared his throat and all the murmuring died down. “You are all idiots. Of course, you can‘t see his scales. All you can see is that soft human skin. You might wonder how a boy could look like that, so soft and smooth and flawless. And I can tell you how: It‘s not his. My cousin has seen a siren once and he just barely escaped. He told me that he had seen them eat a girl. And then they kept her skin. I bet this is what he‘s doing. Wearing some poor girl‘s skin to hide the monstrosity underneath. I bet if we peel back his skin just a little there is nothing but murky scales and ugliness.“ He came closer, slowly, his gaze lingering on Jungkook as if he wanted to see through his illusion and see his real form. “I‘ll show you what a siren really looks like...“

He took the knife from the other sailor and pressed it against the upper part of Jungkook‘s thigh where the blade would sink in easily into the soft flesh. He gave him a cruel smile before he put a little more pressure on the blade…

Jungkook screamed, choking on the cloth in the process. He tried to breathe, he really tried but there was just so much pain. His whole face contorted, tears streaming down his face as he tried to get away from the knife. His knuckles turned white from how tightly he held onto the rope he was tied to. Jungkook closed his eyes, not wanting to see anymore. He just didn’t want to exist. To not be this thing that people thought they could claim ownership over. He never wanted this. Jungkook choked painfully, crying out helplessly.

The glass splintered on deck as it fell out of Yoongi’s hand. He had come on deck to check on the siren and what he saw made him question his mind. His crewmembers were standing around Jungkook - and the way it looked they were torturing him. It was silent after the clash of the glass and some of his shock must be visible on his face because most of the men quickly withdrew or tried to avoid his gaze. Not all of them though. He could also see defiance and hate. And fear.

“What.. what are you doing?” It took him a second to get his voice under control but when he did it sounded icy and demanding as it should be, not shocked and horrified.

“We’re trying to make fishboy show his real face!” Someone said, almost as if this was something to be proud of.

“By torturing him?” There wasn’t much of his clothes left and to his relief Yoongi could see that he was unharmed except for a wound on his thigh. He had come in time to keep Jungkook from worse. “He is important to me. He’s my possession! How dare you ruin what's mine!”

There was a whisper running through the men but not everyone was buying it, “He’ dangerous! Who says that he hasn’t bewitched you already?”

Yoongi got close to that man, really close and then stared him down. “My weapons are also dangerous. Do you want to keep me from using them too because they are dangerous? How about I show you how clear my mind is and how efficiently I can put what’s mine to use. What do you think, guns or daggers?” The man looked at Yoongi for a few seconds longer before he lowered his eyes in shame. “Forgive me captain. We weren’t thinking..”

“You weren’t!” Yoongi interrupted him harshly. “And if someone disrespects me like this again and lays even a finger on my siren then I’ll allow him to eat you. While you’re alive.” He took his knife and cut through the roped that were holding Jungkook up. He was so angry that it didn’t take him long to get rid of them. Jungkook flinched hard with each cut, scared that it might hit him. He whimpered quietly, his eyes flickering up at him frightfully. Yoongi reached out for him, gripping his arm tightly just like he had done before and Jungkook once more stumbled after him.

“I thought he might…” A young pirate with dark hair murmured a few feet away, watching the scenery unfold from where they sat. “What? That he tries to run and jump into the water to escape?” Hoseok cocked up an eyebrow and held onto control wheel steadily, “I know we all tend to get a little crazy, seeing the same thing all day…but Tae, don’t believe everything Jimin is telling you.”

“Hey!” Jimin snapped his eyes open, propping himself up on his elbows as he had laid down at the back to take a nap while they were using the wind to let them sail peacefully. “I told him many times it’s just tales that Namjoon is telling me. Maybe we we’re all just a little drunk last night…poor boy. He looks so sweet. Pirates are stupid,” Jimin pursed his lips into a pout and leaned back again.

“Jimin, you’re a pirate.”

“Well, at least a good looking one.” He waved them off and closed his eyes again.

…

Jungkook gulped hard, the cloth preventing him from taking deep breaths, so instead they quickened. He was a sobbing shivering mess, scared of whatever the captain would do now, staring back at him with big, doe eyes while trying to catch his breath.

Jungkook was sobbing and gasping and even though it was utterly, utterly stupid Yoongi came to a halt. He would probably regret this, but he really hoped that if Jungkook bewitched him now Namjoon would use his mind to save his ship before they all drowned themselves. Though the siren was sobbing, actually crying and it might be a trap, but it was a real good one because Jungkook looked so miserable that it broke Yoongi’s heart. He loosened the knot at the back of the younger’s head so that he could pull down the scarf and Jungkook could catch his breath. He was shivering and as Yoongi wasn’t sure if from shock or from the cold he placed the boy down on his couch and turned around to get some clothes.

“Don’t run. You won’t get far.” He casually told him while rummaging through his clothes until he found a white linen shirt with wide sleeves and some soft brown pants. “Here, you can wear that. There was still blood on Jungkook’s thigh and Yoongi furrowed his brow. “Wait a second…” He took a clean cloth and some of the alcohol he had been drinking to dampen it. It was the best disinfectant that he had - even though it would hurt like hell.

Jungkook didn’t say a thing, instead he just followed Yoongi’s movements with his eyes warily as if any second he could jump on him and he needed to be ready. He whimpered quietly when he came closer with the cloth, closing his eyes as he waited for the pain. It pierced right through his wound and Jungkook pushed the palm of his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes as he muffled his own screams.

When Yoongi was done, Jungkook was a shaking mess and the urge to give in and just curl in on himself was too big to withstand. He barely managed to dress himself, eyes glazed over, cheeks red from crying. Not sure whether he was allowed to lay down or not, Jungkook tried to keep upright. He hadn’t even realized where he was and that the captain had brought him into his private cabin.

“Are you alright?” It was a stupid question because a simple look at the younger’s shaking form answered it, but he had hoped that Jungkook would tell him he was fine because right now Yoongi was still scared. But not for him. “You’re not going to die on me are you?” He brushed back the younger’s hair so that he could see his face better. “Do you need water? You need water, right?” He turned to get some water from one of the barrels he kept in his room but when he turned back Jungkook had sunken in on himself. “Jungkook?”

He felt nauseous, the dizziness making it harder for him to stay seated, so he leaned over the armrest, his chest heaving heavily. “Of course, I need water,” Jungkook answered breathlessly, “I’m still human, you idiots.”

Yoongi stilled - and then he broke into laughter, relief washing over him. For a second he had thought that his men had broken him but there he was, wounded and hurting while still giving him an attitude.

“Excuse my ignorance about deadly mythical creatures oh beautiful siren. But I am just a simple pirate, unable to grasp your full entity.” It was incredibly easy to forget the dangerous that lurked in Jungkook when they were the only ones around but maybe that was exactly what being a siren was about, making humans trust them despite their knowledge that they were dangerous - until it was too late, and they were just another siren meal. Or food for the fish. Or whatever else sirens did with all the drowned people. Jungkook shook his head. “But just asking would have been a way instead of assuming, you know, instead of imprisoning me right away. You wanted to see what I do. I showed you and I stopped, just like you asked me to.” Jungkook reached for the cup of water, gulping it down hastily. “By the way if you even try to sing a single note you’ll be back up on deck in no time. And I don’t want to find out what else they’d do with you. Do you?” The pirate eyed the younger with furrowed brows.

“I told you I am not here to harm anyone…you’re the one hurting me! You kidnapped me! Remember? Not the other way around.” He leaned his head back down onto his arm, pulling his legs up on the couch. Jungkook closed his eyes and it seemed like he’d fall asleep any minute, but then he snapped them open again. “Oh, and I don’t eat humans. That’s disgusting!”

Yoongi jerked at the sudden comment though before he could react to it Jungkook’s body went lax again as the younger fell asleep.

“Jungkook?” When he didn’t get any response he carefully nudged the boy’s shoulder. “No humans, hu?” He whispered, more to himself than to the sleeping siren, “Wait - if you eat fish is it cannibalism then?” He shook his head. Somehow what he had heard and read about sirens didn’t quite fit for the young boy who seemed half scared, half mouthy most of the time. Carefully Yoongi pulled up Jungkook’s lip to see his teeth and the younger groaned, hiding his head in his arms before continuing to sleep as if nothing had happened. No shark teeth or anything the like. It would be really difficult to eat a human like that.

“Maybe you aren’t grown up yet,” He continued to wonder aloud. Because Jungkook definitely had powers it just seemed as if they didn't bring him love and admiration and food and whatever else a siren got with their magic but just pain and loneliness instead.

A/N: Yay! A new story begins! This time it takes us on a pirate journey! We really hope you will like this one and you have as much fun reading it as we had fun writing it :D Don’t forget to leave us a comment or message on how you liked it and think what’s going to happen next!? Oh and don’t forget to check out the Gifset Trailer for this story to get a feel for the aesthetics ;) <33

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Secrets - Part 4

You’re best friends with Ned and MJ. You’re really bad at making friends, but then they introduce you to Peter and there’s just something about him that you can’t explain. Who knows? Maybe you’ll actually get along with this guy.

Disclaimer: slight angst

Word Count: 1,4 k

Y/N = Your Name

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Peter and you have been secretly dating for the past two weeks, but MJ and Ned had their suspicions. He treated you just too sweet and the glances between you gave it away pretty quick.

You were walking down the hallway with your best friends, making your way to history class, when Ned turned to you.

„So, when are you guys going to tell us about your little secret?“, he casually asked.

Your head shot up at him, looking like a deer in headlights. How did they find out? Did they see the suit in his backpack? Did they hear Peter and you talking about it?

„What do you mean?“, you tried to play it cool.

„Oh come on, Y/N. It‘s pretty obvious that Peter and you are more than just friends“

You sighed in relief.

„Well yeah, Peter is pretty bad at hiding“, you chuckled, „We didn‘t tell you because we wanted to take things slow and just see how it works out“

„No need to justify yourself, it‘s all cool. Either way, I‘m happy for you, Y/N“, Ned smiled at you, before turning to MJ.

„So, they are actually dating. You know what that means“, he winked, „You owe me five bucks now“

MJ rolled her eyes in response, but you just laughed.

————————————————

After 60 minutes of trying to stay awake during Mr. Hiddleston‘s history lesson, the school bell finally rang.

„Hey Y/N, you want to come over and join me building my new Lego death star?“, Ned asked you.

„So lame“, MJ said to herself.

„Wait, what? That‘s awesome! How many pieces?“, you beamed with excitement.

„3803“

„That‘s insane“

„I know!“, Ned said with a big grin on his face.

„Alright nerds, see you tomorrow“, MJ joked and waved goodbye to you.

When you arrived at Ned‘s, you immediately got started and while he was reading the building instructions to you, Peter was busy at the Avengers Tower.

————————————————

„So, how is Y/N?“, Tony asked Peter while improving his new suit.

„She‘s great, thanks for asking. It‘s all going really well actually“

„Happy to hear that, Peter. Just make sure your enemies don‘t find out, you can‘t imagine how many times they’ve tried to take Pepper from me. She‘s your weak spot now and they will take advantage of that, you know?“

Tony‘s advice scared Peter a bit. He didn‘t even think about the danger he put you in, just by being with you.

„Thank you, Mr. Stark. I will protect her with my life, I promise“

„Of course you will, that‘s what we do around here“ and with that, his full concentration was on the suit in front of him again.

While Tony was doing his thing, Peter decided to go to the training room with Steve. He was still slightly bitter about the time Peter stole his shield, but overall they got along pretty well.

Peter was in the middle of taking Steve down, when their training session got interrupted by an agitated Natasha.

„New weapons are making their way around the city. They‘re mixed with Chitauri-technology and they‘re highly dangerous. We need to find them as soon as possible. Spidey, if you know anything, let us know. We‘ll handle it from there“

„But, I can help as well! Mr. Stark is working on a new suit for me and - “

„You have no idea how dangerous the person in charge of this might be. And on top of that, you‘re still a kid. There‘s no way I‘ll put you in a situation like this“, Steve interfered.

„Well Captain, you just got your ass whooped by a kid then“, Peter said, getting up from Steve, while Natasha suppressed a chuckle.

Peter didn‘t get it. He was more than just a kid, he was Spiderman and determined to prove himself to the rest of the Avengers.

He left the tower and walked through the streets of New York, examining every person and listening to every conversation in order to find a hint that would lead him to these weapons. He has been roaming around for hours, when he suddenly got goosebumps, signalling him that danger was near.

He looked around and saw a middle aged man coming his way. When he passed Peter, the goosebumps got even worse and he was certain he found what he was looking for, so Peter decided to discreetly follow him.

After thirty minutes they seemed to have reached their destination. The stranger was entering an old warehouse, while Peter watched every move from a distance. He changed into his suit and started circling the building, looking for a backdoor. After a few minutes he found one, but of course it was locked.

„Well, well, well. Who do we have here? The boss will be pleased to test his new stuff out on you“, a raspy voice said.

Five muscular men were standing there, while the biggest of them pointed an anti-gravity gun at him.

Oh shit.

————————————————

Something was knocking on your window in the middle of the night, causing you to wake up. Tessa was growling at the shadow outside, while you got up to check what it was and to your surprise, Peter was hanging on the brick wall of your apartment building. You quickly opened the window to let him in.

He clumsily climbed inside, instantly laying down on your carpet. He was holding his stomach and you could see the blood stains on his suit.

„Oh my god, what happened? I‘ll get the first aid kit, stay there and don‘t move“, you said in shock, running into the bathroom.

When you came back, his mask was already lying on the ground and his suit was loosely hanging around his waist. The sight of him broke your heart. He had a bloody lip and his body was covered in bruises and cuts, some deeper than the other. You knelt down beside him, inspecting the wound on his stomach while pouring some alcohol on a cotton pad.

„I‘m sorry babe, but this will hurt like a bitch“, you said right before you started cleaning the wound.

He squinted his eyes and took in a sharp breath.

„We might have to stitch his“, you said with a hint of concern in your voice.

„No, no stitches. I‘ll be fine in 20 minutes, just wait and see“, he managed to get out, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

And he was right. You could see the wound getting better every minute and after a short period of time, he was as good as new.

„So that‘s what you meant with fast metabolism“, you looked at him, questioning if you were still dreaming.

He just yawned and got up, acting like he didn‘t just have a massive cut in his stomach, and laid down on your bed.

„Come here please, I want to cuddle“, he mumbled into the pillow as he held out his arm for you.

You tiptoed back to bed and he instantly wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

„You wanna talk about what happened back there?“, you asked him with a soft voice, while your fingers played with his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

“Bad guys and Chitauri weapons are just not a good match”, he mumbled, before the exhaustion washed over him and he dozed off.

————————————————

~ earlier that night ~

Peter was trapped underneath pieces of concrete that fell from the wall a few seconds prior. Vulture, the man responsible for Peters state, knelt down beside him.

„If you get in my way again, I will kill every single person you care about“, He threatened Peter, who was lying on the ground, before he flew off and out of sight. Peter was slipping in and out of consciousness, when Tony’s words echoed in the back of his mind.

She‘s your weak spot now and they will take advantage of that.

„Y/N“, he whispered to himself, „for the love of god, please be safe“

It took all of his strength to lift up the concrete on top of him, but the thought of Vulture hurting you kept him going. Even though his condition was the worst he has ever been in, he managed to climb out and as soon as he did, he rushed to your apartment in record time.

————————————————

You woke up to the sound of Peter calling your name in his sleep. He was still holding you, his grip getting tighter by the second.

“It’s okay, I’m right beside you”, you whispered to him, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb drawing circles on his cheekbone. His glossy eyes fluttered open at your touch.

“Thank god, you’re here”, he said and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Of course I am, where else should I be?”, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Never mind. I’m sorry for waking you up, baby. Just go back to sleep”

And you did as he said, while Peter stayed up all night, making sure no one could hurt you.

[scriptmedic]

An Anonymous Patron asked: 

I’m in the plotting stages of a fantasy novel, and I’m trying to put together a concept of how magic works. I had the idea that magic might be based in blood, so that casting magic would require shedding the caster’s own blood in proportion to the strength of the spell. Personal health, stamina, pain tolerance and squeamishness therefore become the constraints on how much magic one person can cast. With that in mind, I have bleeding related questions! I already know from your writer’s guide to bleeding the stages of bloodloss and how much a person can lose without dying. Drawing blood via a needle might be the cleanest and most effective way of extracting blood whilst minimising injury. But for quick and dirty magic casting, the nearest sharp object will have to suffice. Biting cuticles or pricking the pad of a finger with a needle would probably be enough for tiny spells, but for anything substantial it’s going to need something more dramatic. The stereotypical act in movies and such is to cut the palm with a knife, but this strikes me as a very bad idea since it’s going to hurt like crazy, prevent use of that hand until it’s healed, and risks permanent damage by slicing through tendons. What better alternatives do I have? Where and how would be the best place for a person to spill their own blood if they’re looking to produce a substantial amount of bleeding over a short timeframe but without causing themselves permanent injury and (ideally) minimising the chances of accidentally killing themselves? Related – what might be realistic risks in terms of infections and bloodborne illnesses from the practice? The state of medical knowledge is based on alchemy and herbalism, so antibiotics and probably much more than basic wound care are not available. Since the ‘rule of reality’ is in play I’ll figure out for myself how magic may or may not modify the natural healing process, but some hints of what I need to research would be greatly appreciated. Would soaking a knife in strong alcohol or carbolic acid or holding it over a flame be enough to sterilise it and minimise the risks?  

Hey there nonny! Thanks for this question :) 

Using blood as a magical element has a long and storied tradition, but you’re right that opening up a palm -- especially with a dramatic gasp and squeezing of the blade -- is a Hollywood trope. 

You’re also right that a needle, or even a lancet (the thing diabetics use to stick themselves to check their blood sugars), would be ideal for small amounts of blood. 

But larger amounts of blood require more direct sources of bleeding. While cutting an artery would be a terrible idea to use a spell, veins will bleed rather nicely, are relatively easy to stop the hemorrhage from, and, particularly on more muscular types, are fairly easy to spot. 

From a medical standpoint, using the smallest cut they can to get the required amount would be best. So theoretically, taking the tip of a very sharp dagger, identifying a vein, and pressing down just hard enough to cut it open will produce the smallest wond, will heal the best, and will still get nice and bloody. 

Note to witchy folks who may or may not follow this blog: this is not a recommendation for you. Do not do this thing, bleed out in your witchin’ kitchen, and tell your paramedics “But Aunt Scripty Said....” No. 

(Seriously, the lancet thing works. Trust me on this.) 

The question then becomes: how often do they do this, and  how much blood is lost during each casting? The closest guideline I have is on how often a human is permitted to donate blood in the US. A typical donation draws off 500mL (~18oz) of blood. The donor is not eligible to donate again for another 8 weeks (56 days). 

Half a liter of blood would likely power quite a mighty spell, but what about 10x 50-mL spells? Or 4x 125-mL spells? 

(They won’t measure exactly, and it may not be relevant. But you might want to keep track of roughly how much they’ve given.) 

Also, here are some side effects of losing that much blood volume that quickly: 

Dizziness

Potential nausea & vomiting 

Potential fainting 

High heart rate 

Fast breathing 

Excessive tiredness for a few days 

So your spellcasters might experience some or all of those symptoms after using their magic, plus whatever energy draining the magic itself requires. 

This would also mean it’s very, very easy to tell a caster: look at their non-dominant forearm. There will be knife marks all over it. (Your characters can use: the forearm, the back of the forearm (more difficult), the crook of the elbow (if you have to), the back of the hand (if you have to), the foot (look at your feet they are Veiny), and a slew of other places.) 

You could even have That Shady One who everyone thinks is a caster, but no one is sure, until they take their boots off one night and wham foot scarring. 

Infections & Bloodborne Illness

First things first: your character cannot contract a bloodborne illness like HIV, hepatitis, etc. if their blood does not come into contact with someone else’s blood or bodily fluids during their casting. 

As for infections...

It’s very true that the character who repeatedly pokes themselves in the vein is repeatedly giving bacteria an opportunity to colonize not just their bloodstream, but the wound as it heals. They’ll want a steady supply of clean bandages. 

A silver blade will actually be ideal for this purpose (as long as it doesn’t tarnish from the blood -- blood likes to eat metal, as I understand), because silver is a natural antiseptic surface. 

Running the blade through a flame will indeed sterilize it, but it will also make it so freaking hot omg if it stays in for longer than.... really, anything. We make pans out of metal because it gets hot and stays hot. Having done stupid things with knives at various points, this is A Thing. 

But realistically... does your character understand the concept of a pathogen? You’re saying healing is based on herbalism. Dirt is nature. Herbs grow from dirt. Dirt must be good! Have a poultice made of clay and mud. 

You see where I’m going with this? Part of the problem I have with helping fantasy authors is that the premise often requires an understanding of germ theory. If it’s a medieval-ish setting, miasmas of ill health are still a valid theory of illness. No one has physically invented the microscope yet. So all they’ll likely use will be water (boiling water will be best) and maybe a rag. Likewise, bandages will likely just be strips of whatever cloth is available -- in whatever state of cleanliness, or filth, they are. (Okay, maybe they’ll be boiled in the water. I’m just saying, your characters maaaay not be washing their hands after they poop, much less tending to their weapons or wounds in ways modern medics would approve of.) 

And, of course, if you want Theatrical Flames, they can always dip the blade in any kind of alcohol you like and then light it on fire. Just, y’know. Hot knives. Bad for skin and b ad for getting blood, since it would cauterize the blood vessel. 

I hope this helps you get your story where it needs to be :) 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

[disclaimer] 

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[kianh-blog1]

hey hey i’m jamie and i’ve been excited about this rp since the very first promo post let me tell you. twenty two, GMT and they/them pronouns please. i’d love to get some plots and connections of all types going, so give this post some love or hit me up and we can get this show on the rooooad. also full disclaimer: i don’t like zayn??? i don’t condone a lot of the shit he does. but kian is a muse i’ve had for 3+ years now, and i can’t imagine him as any other fc. and tbh he’s fuckboy enough to suit it so we’re gonna have to deal :/  i have a bio page for him HERE, but there are quick(er) facts and all that good stuff beneath the cut.

zayn malik? no ⏤ kian hassan, the cismale is twenty-one and was born with a gold soul, and now has a grey soul. i would describe him as passionate + loyal, yet irascible + jaded. kian spends his time bartending & playing local gigs and has lived in seattle for twenty one years.

TW FOR DRUGS, ALCOHOL, CHEATING, OVERDOSE, ABUSE.

kian was born a gold soul, in a family full of gold souls. he grew up in a small home with his mother, father and an older sister. the family grew over time to encompass two younger siblings too, a sister first and then a brother. they never had much money, and as the first born son it was supposed to be kian’s duty to add to the family income. 

when he was five, he met a girl. not just any girl, but a girl that would change the course of his life entirely. a small, pure girl with a grey soul, and no one could tell kian that she was anything less than perfect. he saw her soul as bright and wondrous, despite the grey of it’s hue. 

they became fast friends, sharing lunch at school (she never had one of her own) and spending every free moment together. he defended her against bullies, she took care of his wounds, and a pattern began.

eventually it became apparent that her home life was less than perfect. she was being abused, and no one seemed to be doing anything to stop it. kian’s golden soul family turned a blind eye to the grey girl, and kian himself was too young to do much of anything except take care of her as best he could. 

as they grew older, she came out of her shell. she became loud, getting into trouble for it, and she took great pleasure in being the centre of attention. kian preferred to remain on the outskirts, but he watched over her and was dragged to all sorts of parties and events to keep her company. 

she began sleeping around, and despite the fact he was clearly in love with her, so did he. she’d date bad guys, repeat patterns from her childhood and show up at kian’s door with bruises and tears. kian would always fight to protect her, taking his own bruises and spilling his own blood even though he knew she’d go out and find herself another dirtbag. it’s all she believed she deserved.

he got into drugs and drinking because she got into drugs and drinking. he’s still heavily addicted to this day. 

eventually it became too much to watch, and he convinced her to run away with him. they were gone for a year, in which time she had become his girlfriend and things began to look up. he worked as many jobs as he could to support them, and she stayed at home, preferring to be there than to work herself. she was fragile in his eyes, and he thought this best too.

one day he came home to find her gone, only to return hours later drunk and with hickies from another man on her throat. she cried and begged him to forgive her, and of course he did. he always did, even when it began happening several times a week, old behaviours reoccurring, but now he wasn’t at the parties with her. he was working. and she was cheating. 

this went on for months. months of her trying to get clean and relapsing over and over. kian blamed himself each time she did, like there was something more he could have done to stop her. one night he came home to find she’d overdosed, and he was too late to save her. 

he tried to stay away from the funeral, though he couldn’t resist the draw of seeing her one last time, and so he found himself back in his hometown of seattle. he’s been here ever since, not sure where else to go and what direction his life should take. he’s been shunned by his family for running away, and also because his soul has lost it’s golden hue. 

he spends his time on a concoction of drugs and alcohol, and he’s lost most of the passion he once had. he’s tired, jaded, and he spent so much of his life focused on her that he’s realised recently that he no longer knows or recognises himself. it’d be an identity crisis, but he’s too apathetic to care.

he is a friendly person though. he can be quick to anger, and he comes across quite cold and distant, but that’s just how he is. he doesn’t actually mean any harm to anyone who’s kind and genuine. he’ll give any colour soul a chance. 

he sleeps around a lot, but he’s far from a charmer. it’s drunken hook ups mostly, ones where names are rarely even exchanged.

so yeah.... this was cheerful. ples come plot with us and i’ll love you forever ???? i want all the connections -- fluffy, angsty, smutty, you name it.