#Recovery Holidays Around The Corner

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 34

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Thanksgiving is just around the corner and Reader is planning Talia and Jamal's wedding when unexpected news happen.

Tags : Angst

TW : Mention of drug use - Mention of pregnancy

Author's Note : I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

Y/N’s POV

Ever since Marshall had informed you that Kim would be there for Thanksgiving, you were a little bit freaked out. However, you didn’t really bring up the topic, and neither did your boyfriend. After the conversation, you spent a few days pondering whether or not you should try and escape the situation. Not being American, Thanksgiving wasn’t important to you anyway so you wouldn’t mind skipping it or celebrating it the same way you had done since you came to the US - with Talia and Jamal. 

When you moved to Detroit, you quickly befriended Talia at the beginning of the school year. You were planning on spending your first Thanksgiving in your dorm room, on your own, watching a crappy movie and eating ramen, but she wouldn’t have it and invited you to spend the day with her, her boyfriend and her family. At first, you declined the invitation but she basically forced you to go and that’s how you met Jamal, as well as Talia’s mother and her three sisters. You got along with everyone and had an official, standing invitation for every holiday, your best friend’s family being just as warm and welcoming as her. Even when you were with your ex, you spent Thanksgiving with Talia. This year would be your first time celebrating it with someone else. When you told her about the change of plans, she was happy for you but made it clear that you would be missed. To be fair, you would miss them too. You didn’t know too much about how everyone else celebrated Thanksgiving, but Talia’s family certainly made it fun : everyone would spend the day cooking together in a relaxed atmosphere, making jokes, dancing to some 80s tunes and playing board games. 

You didn’t mind skipping this in order to celebrate with the man you loved, but knowing his ex-wife would be there certainly made you reconsider. However, he made it clear that he was looking forward to celebrating with you and told you how important it was for him that you be there. 

It’s a family holiday, he said. We’re officially living together, it doesn’t make sense to spend it apart, Y/N. We’re family, now. 

We’re still very new, you reminded him. What will your family think ? 

As far as they’re concerned, you can do no wrong, he chuckled. Apparently, they’re all relieved that my grumpy ass found someone who is actually willing to put up with me. And they all know and like you already. 

Except for your ex, you pointed out. 

Is that what it’s really about ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You sighed and did not reply. Part of you thought that it was a good thing that Marshall and Kim were on friendly terms, for the sake of their daughters. It was a proof of maturity on their part and you had heard enough stories from your friends with divorced parents to know that it was actually a good thing. Everyone would like for their parents to be able to get along after a divorce. But being the partner of someone who was divorced made it a little challenging. After all, no one expected to spend a holiday with their boyfriend’s ex-wife, let alone relished the idea. 

I told you it will be fine, he said as he hugged you from behind while you were doing your skincare before bed. And it’s not just her, anyway. Everyone else will be there. 

Yes but she’s the only one I haven’t met yet, you said sheepishly. What if she hates me ? 

Why would she hate you ? He scoffed. 

Because I’m your girlfriend… Duh ? 

Look, Y/N, he said as he took your hands in his. Yes, Kim is my ex, and yes, we have a long and complicated history. But any form of romantic feeling between us is long gone. There won’t be any jealousy… On her part, at least. 

The end of his comment made you raise an eyebrow. 

You think I’m jealous of her ? You asked. 

I don’t know, he said with a smile. Are you ? 

I guess not, you shrugged. I do have many questions, though. 

So we’re gonna have that talk, huh ? He asked with a sigh. 

Do you mind ? 

No offense, babe, but even if I did… I know you well-enough to know that you’d toss and turn all night, and you'll drive yourself crazy and me as well. I love you, and I want to get some sleep tonight, so for both our sakes, let’s get this over with, he chuckled. 

Thank you, you said shyly as you felt your face redden a bit. 

You both sat in bed and you were nervously tugging on your nightgown, not really knowing where to start. 

I don’t have all night, though, he said playfully. Just ask your damn questions, babe. 

Did she sleep here ? You asked, as it was the first question that popped into your head - hell, maybe you were in her spot ! 

In this room or in this bed ? He asked. This is the master bedroom, so yeah, we slept here. The bed and mattress are new, though, if that’s any comfort. Next question ? 

Do you miss her, sometimes ? You asked nervously. 

He glanced at you and shook his head with a smile. 

What kind of question is that, Y/N ? He simply asked. Really ? You’re asking me if I miss her ? 

Can you blame me for wondering, though ? Everyone knows she’s the love of your life, your high-school sweetheart and stuff… 

Everyone also knows that our marriages were utter failures and that we drove each other crazy, he stated with an eye roll. 

So you never think about her ? You asked. 

That’s a different question. Of course I think about her often. 

Often ?! What the hell did he mean by that ? As he saw the expression on your face - that probably resembled that of a deer in headlights - he let out a laugh. 

I told you, babe, we have a history and three daughters, he said. Of course I think about her, whether it’s something about the girls or simply memories. I can’t erase twenty-plus years from my brain, you know ? But it doesn’t mean I miss her. I used to, for sure, but I don’t. Not anymore. You can think of the good times you had with someone without missing the relationship. 

I guess, you said. How do you feel about her now, then ? 

I mean… She’s the mother of my children and that will never change. In that regard, I respect her, because she’s doing her best to be a good mom, too. I might not always agree with her, in fact there’s a lot of shit we disagree on, but she’s high in my esteem. Also because she put up with a lot of me and my shit, he said. 

Do you have feelings for her ? You blurted out before you were able to hold back the words. 

As soon as you spoke these words, he frowned and shook his head. He sighed and took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. 

I just told you I don’t miss her, he said. So no, I don’t have feelings for her. Not romantic, at least. I do have affection for her, though, in a way. I care for her and I don’t want anything bad happening to her. If she ever needs me, I’m here. I told you before - whether we like it or not, Kim and I will always be family. So I will always be there to support her. 

You nodded, a bit lost in your thoughts. He pulled you in his arms and leaned in, his forehead resting against yours while his piercing blue gaze held yours. 

I need you to understand something, baby, he said. Nothing I’m saying here affects the way I feel about you. Just because I care for Kim doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You are the woman I love and the one who makes me happy, and no one will change that. 

Ok, you said as you nodded softly. I love you too, you know ? 

And even if she did hate you, which she won’t, you’re the one person I chose to share my life with. Whether anyone likes it or not, you are my girl and they have to respect that. And I know she does, he said. 

Ok, you said. Does she know that we live together here ? 

She does, he  nodded. 

And that I’m… You know… Younger ? 

Yes, that too, he chuckled. I mean, I told her about you before so she knows a couple of things. She knows your name, your age, what you do in life, part of our story and, most of all, she knows I am head over heels in love with you. 

When did you tell her all that ? You asked, a bit surprised. 

I talked about you on a couple of occasions, he explained. When we got together, and a couple of months after our breakup, too. We don’t speak or see each other too often, but we keep up with each other’s life. 

He was smiling, which was sort of reassuring. His transparency made you feel at peace and, even though you were still a bit anxious, you eased up. You smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. 

Thank you for reassuring me, you said softly. I think you got yourself a night without me tossing and turning. 

Good, he chuckled. I get how weird it must be for you, you know ? But I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s just Thanksgiving. 

You smiled and nuzzled his neck as he held you in his arms, tracing circles on your shoulder. 

I love you, Marshall. 

I love you too, Y/N. And I’m really happy we’re celebrating our first holiday together, he added. 

That’s a milestone, you said. 

The first of many, many more, he said with a smile before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

So… What does a typical Thanksgiving look like in the Mathers household ? You asked. What should I expect ? 

Just classic Thanksgiving stuff, you know ? He shrugged. 

Well I only ever celebrated at Talia’s family’s, so… I don’t know, you chuckled. In my experience, it involves Talia’s mom preaching about how good God is and the blessings he gives, lots of cooking, lots of eating, board games and Talia’s sisters arguing over who Jamal prefers ! 

Sometimes I forget you’re not from here, he chortled. No preaching here, but lots of eating, just hanging out together, talking, watching movies, playing games… And I have my basketball tradition with Nate. 

Let me guess ? You usually win ? You asked with a grin. 

I lost the last one, actually, he chuckled. But I’ll definitely humiliate him this year. I have a lady to impress, I can’t lose. 

If you win, I’ll give you something to look forward to, you said teasingly. 

Like what ? He asked with a smirk. 

Win and you’ll see, you replied with a wink. 

I have an entire week left before the game, he said. Believe me, I’m going to train for victory. 

You giggled and kissed him softly before turning the lights off. You were a little reassured and figured that, even though your first Thanksgiving with him would be a bit stressful, you would get to admire him all sweaty on the basketball court and that would be absolutely worth it. 

In the week leading up to Thanksgiving, you were busy with wedding stuff and maid of honor duties. Talia and Jamal had yet to set a date for the wedding but that didn’t prevent your best friend from giving you tasks such as browsing ideas, looking at dress designers and searching for venues. You gladly obliged : you had sent out a few applications for jobs but you hadn’t gotten any answers yet and you were starting to get a bit bored. You would have gladly taken care of the house or garden, but there was staff hired for that and the only thing you could do to help around the house was to cook dinner for Marshall when he came back from work. You enjoyed it but it was clearly not enough to fill your days and you were starting to feel like one of those rich, bored housewives. Helping Talia with the wedding was a welcome distraction and you took the task with the utmost seriousness. You had always been a sucker for weddings and you knew full well it would be the only one you would get to organize so you decided to enjoy it. Every day after she got off from work, your friend would come to your place and your living room was soon filled with bridal magazines and moodboards for what was set to be the wedding of the century. Jamal’s work as a renowned beatmaker allowed them to have a very comfortable lifestyle and he had made clear that, whatever Talia wanted for the wedding, she would get. And she happened to have expensive taste, as well as a never-ending guest list. 

I will never find a venue, she loudly complained. I either hate the places we’re looking at, or they’re simply not big enough. 

You let out a sympathetic laugh. With the immense guest list they had, it was no surprise that finding a venue would be challenging. It seemed like every single person they had ever met would be invited. 

We will find something, you said with a smile. Or maybe you could try and shrink the guest list ? 

Jamal put you up to this, didn’t he ? She sighed. He keeps on telling me that we should keep it small. If it were up to him, we would elope… 

That could be super romantic, you know, you said tentatively. I mean… How many people on your guest list do you actually keep in touch with anyway ? 

I want my princess wedding, she said. You don’t know what it is. You’ll see when you get engaged ! 

I’m not getting married, you reminded her. Marshall doesn’t want to get married. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. 

I can’t believe you’re willing to accept that, though, she said with an eye roll. You, of all people, not getting married ? 

You know I’m a sucker for weddings and all things “traditional family”, you chuckled. But I’d rather never get married and be with Marshall than the other way around. He means more to me than a dress I’d wear for a day. 

You know I love Em, but I just don’t get it, she shrugged before munching on a cupcake you had baked earlier. He’s old, so I get the “not wanting kids” part. But you moved back here for him and you decided to give up on kids to be with him, so the least he could do is put a ring on it, you know ? 

We just got back together, you giggled. And don’t get me wrong, if he asked for my hand, I would say yes. I mean, he is the love of my life. But he seems pretty adamant. And as long as I’m with him, I’m good, so really… Doesn’t matter. 

Still… I never thought you would be ready to renounce marriage and children for any man. 

You could absolutely see where Talia was coming from. You had spent countless hours talking about wedding stuff, since the two of you had met. You had actually bonded over your love of romantic movies and series and watched countless wedding-related TV shows. But you had made your choice and you understood that Marshall didn’t want that. And after all, he was right : you didn’t need to sign a piece of paper to be in a loving, committed relationship. As long as you got to experience life with him and make great memories, you were happy. And as for the fun you would have had planning your own wedding, you would live vicariously through Talia, who would be the most beautiful bride. The conversation shifted and you got back to your order of business : the wedding. You looked at venues while she took a fun break and looked at the Vera Wang website.

I’m going to be sick, Talia muttered after a while. 

Come on, you chuckled. The bridal collections can’t be that bad… 

No, I’m really feeling sick, she said before running to the bathroom. 

You heard her puke profusely and looked at the plate of cupcakes. She had eaten about half a dozen. You had eaten a few yourself, though not nearly as much, and you were feeling fine, so you doubted that your baking was actually to blame. When she came back from the bathroom, she looked rather ill and tired.  

Do you want some tea ? You offered. 

Yes, please, she said in a croaky voice. 

Lay on the couch, I’ll make it. Do you think you caught a stomach bug or something ? 

I don’t know, she said in a small voice. Maybe it’s my period ? I’ve been waiting for it to actually come for a while. 

Wait… You’re late ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You stared at her in disbelief and started to put two and two together. In the past days, she had complained about being tired and bloated, but you didn’t think too much of it. However, now that you knew she was late, it made you think of your own symptoms, from when you were pregnant. That’s how it had started after all : feeling tired, hungry and bloated, with a bit of morning sickness to top it off. 

I can’t be pregnant, Talia said with a terrified look on her face. My mother gave me enough shit about living with Jamal before being married, she will kill me if I have a baby out of wedlock. 

Maybe it’s just a false alarm. You’re using protection, right ? You asked as you tried to reassure her. 

Of course, she said. I mean, except once, but what would be the odds ? 

When was that ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Hum… The night we got engaged ? She said nervously. 

You opened big eyes. The night they got engaged was the night Jamal brought condoms to your room. And doing the math, it would make sense and explain Talia’s period being quite a bit late. On some level… You were the one who stopped taking the pill after your breakup and your best friend might as well be the one who ended up pregnant. You convinced her to take a pregnancy test and the two of you ended up driving to the nearest pharmacy, buying one from every brand. When you got back home, Talia was shaking with nerves. 

You’ll be fine, you said as you gave her a hug. You guys have been together for ages and you guys have talked about having kids before. You know he will be supportive. 

I know but… Right before the wedding ?! She asked nervously. That was not the plan, Y/N. I wanted to look good in my dress, I wanted to show off my figure in a bikini on a Hawaiian beach for my honeymoon… 

Only one way to find out, you said. Now, go and take the test ! 

In true bestie fashion, you sat on the tub while Talia was peeing on the stick. She handed it to you during the mandatory three minute waiting period. You had been there before and you knew damn well how she might be feeling. You held her hand and started to feel overcome with nerves, as well as many other emotions. You were probably a bad friend for this, and you would never confess to feeling this way, but deep down, you were feeling envious. You were content with your life, but some shameful part of you felt like you would have been in her place, if you hadn’t broken up with Simon. You would most likely be engaged, maybe with a rainbow baby on the way. In a way, you were envious. Of course, being with Marshall was everything you wanted and you loved him more than hypothetical plans of having kids or getting married, and Talia was more than deserving of these things, but it was stronger than you. When the alarm on your phone rang, both you and Talia took a deep breath. 

I can’t look at it, she said. 

You sort of have to, you pointed out. You have to know, right ? 

You look at it and tell me. 

You nervously took the stick and looked at it. Two lines. Positive. 

You’re… pregnant, you said in a blank voice. 

She gasped and looked at it herself. She freaked out and refused to believe it, trying to convince the both of you that it might be a false positive and she ended up guzzling almost a gallon of water and taking another test. Then another one. And another one. Of course, all of them had the same result : your best friend was definitely pregnant. 

I’m pregnant, she said in disbelief. I’m really pregnant.

How are you feeling ? You asked. 

I… I can’t believe it, she simply said. I am pregnant. 

She stared at the numerous tests on the sink and put a hand on her belly. She stared at you as tears welled up in her eyes. 

I’m pregnant, she repeated. 

Look, if you don’t feel ready, you can absolutely…, you began. 

No, she said. I think… I’m happy. I’m having a baby with the love of my life. I’m so happy. 

She took you in her arms and held you tightly as she sobbed with happiness. You were emotional - for a lot of different reasons - and you felt a tear roll on your cheek. Talia was the kindest soul you had ever met and you had absolutely no doubt that she would be an amazing mother. She was already so good at taking care of people. 

You’re going to be a splendid mom, you said softly. That baby is going to be so lucky. 

You’re going to be the best aunt, she said emotionally. 

And Jamal is going to be the greatest Dad on earth ! 

Oh my God, I have to tell Jamal ! She said. And my mom ? Do I call my mom ? And the wedding ?! What do I do ?!?! 

You could see her go through so many emotions at once. You tried your best to reassure her and walked her through what she needed to do. First, you told her to go home and break the news to Jamal before telling anyone else. Then, she would have to make some medical appointments to ensure everything was alright with her pregnancy. As for the wedding, you assured her that, whether they wanted to elope or wait until after the baby was born, you would do your best to make sure her dreams came true and that she would have the most beautiful wedding. Whatever she needed, you would be there for her. She hugged you tight before leaving your place, making you promise that you would not tell a soul, not even Marshall. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Marshall sighed in relief as he drove past the gate of his property. The past few days at the studio had been pretty rough : nothing seemed to be going right and it was starting to get on his nerves. The week had started with an artist postponing a recording and writing session they were supposed to have together, as well as a sample clearing issue. However, there was a bigger problem : whenever he wanted to write, he couldn’t bring himself to. Whenever he jotted down some ideas or words on a page, everything felt insanely corny or simply wrong. He knew that was to be expected, though : whenever his personal life was peaceful, that’s when he found it harder to write and, right now, things happened to be going great at home. Every morning, he woke up with the biggest smile on his face, happy to be with the woman he loved. She was truly amazing and he loved living with her. She was easy to get along with and she took care of him by cooking, baking and providing him with comfort whenever he needed. There was literally nothing for him to complain about and, deep down, maybe it was what was lacking. When they were broken up, he was hurting and felt like shit but at least, it was a familiar feeling. As hard as it had been, he had learned to thrive on sadness, hurt, anger and resentment. Happiness, on the other hand, felt foreign to him, especially when it was this peaceful and domestic. There was always this irrational part of him that felt like it was too good to be true and was in panic mode. When he was with Kim, this kind of calm, peace and happiness only meant a storm was coming and that he was about to be brought to his knees. Same when he was a teenager living with his mother : when things were going great, it always meant drama was coming their way. So, obviously, he had developed trust issues and always felt odd when things were going good. Of course, he loved being with Y/N and he would not have it any other way. But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety. 

When he got home, he found Y/N reading yet another bridal magazine on the couch while a documentary was playing on the living room TV. He immediately joined her and pulled her in for a hug. Her presence was just what he needed. However, she seemed a bit more distracted than usual. 

How was wedding planning today ? He asked as he settled and pulled her legs over his knees. 

Eventful, she replied. 

Really ? What happened ? Did you argue about the color of the bridesmaids dresses ? He chuckled. 

No, no, she said. I mean, whatever, it’s not really interesting. 

Are you alright ? He asked. 

Yeah… How was your day ? 

She seemed a little nervous and preoccupied, but he figured that Talia was probably to blame. Jamal’s fiancée was amazing, but she did keep Y/N busy with wedding planning and he knew that she was definitely the type to turn into a bridezilla. He told his girlfriend about his day and a meeting he had about upcoming performance dates. He was set to be a headliner for Lollapalooza, not only in the US but also in Europe and South America. He tried to focus on the positive and keep his writing struggles to himself. 

How would you feel about coming with me for Lollapalooza ? He asked. 

I don’t know, she shrugged. 

Come on, he said with a smile. It could be fun. I don’t want to be away from you for too long. And you could also enjoy the festival, see concerts, and we could travel a bit between the performance dates and make it romantic. What do you think ? 

That could be fun, she agreed. I don’t know if I’ll be free, though. 

I think Talia can do without you for a little while, he chuckled. 

No, I meant… From work, she corrected. In case I find something, you know ? But maybe Talia will need me too. I don’t know. 

We’ll see, he said with a smile. Are you sure you’re ok ? You seem… Gloomy ? 

I’m fine, she shrugged. Sorry. I guess I’m just under the weather. 

You’re working too hard for this wedding, he said as he took the magazine from her hands and pulled her closer to him. Come here. 

She hummed and buried her face in his neck. They cuddled in this position for a while and he started to relax. The warmth of her breath on his skin was doing a good job soothing him and making him forget about the frustrations of the day. From the day she walked into his life, she had been a peaceful presence for him and getting to come home to her in the evening was a blessing he was definitely grateful for. He enjoyed being in a bubble with her and being able to forget about the pressure of his work. They didn’t need to speak, her mere presence in the room and her touch were enough for him to be able to ease up. 

I missed you today, he said as he kissed her temple. 

I missed you too, she replied. 

If you didn’t have that appointment tomorrow, I’d take you to work with me, he continued. I could use your hugs throughout the day. 

What appointment ? She asked, seemingly confused. 

Your OB/GYN appointment for your contraception. Isn’t that tomorrow ?

Oh, right, she said sheepishly. I forgot about that. 

Are you ok, babe ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. I mean… If you don’t want to take the pill, it’s fine, we can stick to condoms. 

No, no, it’s not that, she replied. 

What’s wrong, then ? 

Nothing, she said. Sorry. Mind if I go lie down before preparing dinner ? I don’t feel too well. 

No, of course not, he said softly. Do you want me to come with you ? 

Don’t worry, she said. You can stay here. 

She got up and kissed his cheek before heading to their bedroom. Something definitely seemed off. Ever since they got back from Europe, she had been in a rather good mood, even considering the situation with her Dad. Now, she almost seemed depressed and he had no idea why. He decided to let her rest, figuring that she was probably just tired or that her period might be on the way. A couple of hours later, he went to see her and ask if she was hungry. She immediately offered to cook something for him, even though she didn’t plan on eating, but he told her not to bother. Y/N was laying in bed, wearing one of his tee-shirts, doom scrolling on her phone, the preoccupied look still on her face. He kissed her and went to the kitchen for a quick sandwich and a can of diet coke. When he was done, he threw his can in the trash and saw three sticks that looked all too familiar : pregnancy tests. Ever since he got back with Y/N, they’d had protected sex and, on one occasion when the condom broke, she had gotten emergency contraception. There was no way she could be pregnant. So why the hell had she taken these tests ? In a matter of seconds, his heart had started pounding in his chest. He nervously grabbed one of the tests, hoping it was negative. But there were clearly two lines. Positive. So were the two other ones. He felt terrified and dizzy. That had to be a nightmare. He could not have a baby. Not at fifty-two. Not when he had sworn that he would not have any more children. If anything, he was the last person on earth that should have kids. He loved his daughters, obviously, and even though raising them was his biggest accomplishment, it was also the hardest thing he had ever had to do. Seeing the two lines on the pregnancy tests gave him flashbacks of all the sleepless nights he’d had, tossing and turning, doubting himself and being terrified to mess things up. There was no way he would be able to do it all over again. Now that his daughters were grown-up and out of the house, he wanted to take it easy, enjoy life with Y/N and be able to do whatever he wanted. The last thing he expected was to change diapers, get up in the middle of the night and just struggle all over again. He took his face in his hands. He could not do this, and especially not with Y/N. She had not even been sober for two years. He had been there with Kim and he knew what it was like to see the mother of his children relapse and struggle with sobriety. No kid ever deserved this and he was simply not strong enough to raise a kid with another addict. Not again. He tried to pace himself but he couldn’t. He had to talk to her. He did not understand. Why hadn’t she told him she was late ? When did she take the test ? Why didn’t she tell him she was pregnant ? He had so many questions. He grabbed the sticks and walked to the bedroom to confront her.

Please tell me it’s a prank, he said as he walked in. Please tell me it’s not true. Please tell me they’re fake. 

Fake what ? What prank ? She asked as she looked up. There’s no prank. 

So it’s real ?! He blurted out. How long did you think you could hide this from me ?! 

Hide what from you ? She asked as her eyebrows knitted. 

THIS ! He yelled as he threw the pregnancy tests on the bed.

He was livid. His anxiety had simply turned to anger. The idea that she could have the audacity to pretend not to know what he was talking about was driving him crazy. Had she even taken the plan B pill ? He couldn’t think straight anymore. He felt betrayed and trapped. He could see her face change as she saw the pregnancy tests. Her face started to crumble and tears started to roll on her cheeks. But if she thought he would fall for it, she was wrong. No amount of crying would work and she was not getting away with it. 

Don’t even try that shit with me, Y/N, he said coldly. You don’t get to pretend you have no idea when I’m talking about when I just found these fucking pregnancy tests. And you don’t get to cry when you’re the one who tried to hide that shit for me. What were you fucking thinking ?! Were you waiting for the legal delay for an abortion to be over ? For an ultrasound to soften me up ?! 

W-What ? She asked. No, Marshall, it’s not… 

What is it, huh ?! Fuck, we talked about this, we fucking broke up over this, so don’t tell me you didn’t fucking know how I feel about having kids, he continued. I’m not having another kid. Especially not with you. When you get to the doctor tomorrow, you better ask him to point you to the nearest abortion clinic ! 

She stared at him in shock. Her mouth was slightly open, she was still crying but she looked in disbelief. What was she thinking ? That he would jump up at the news ? He shook his head and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

It’s Talia, she said. She…

Of course it’s Talia, he scoffed. Of course your stupid friend put you up to this. Do you know the number of times she told me to suck it up and agree to marriage, babies and shit and get you back ? I gotta hand it to her, she’s fucking persistent. Though I must admit I didn’t think she would put you up to this. 

At this point, he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying, just spitting his words in a spiteful way. As seconds went by, he was getting more and more worked up. He didn’t care about this pregnancy. He did not want to. He simply refused this possibility. There was no way he was having another baby. He loved Y/N but there was no way he would have a kid with her. 

You’re not the first person to try this with me, you know ? He spat. I should have known better. But you’re the last person I would have expected to try and fuck me ovI- 

I’M NOT PREGNANT ! Y/N finally yelled before throwing the tests back in his face. 

You’re not ?! He asked in disbelief. Whose fucking tests are they then ?! 

TALIA’S ! TALIA IS PREGNANT,  YOU ASSHOLE ! NOT ME ! 

He felt a sudden wave of relief wash over him. He didn’t realize he needed to breathe that much, but it felt like he had a whole bottle of oxygen poured into his lungs. He felt at least thirty pounds lighter. Y/N, on the other hand, looked absolutely livid. And why wouldn’t she ? He realized he had basically insulted her, blinded by anger. As his mind got a little clearer, he recognized he might have gone a little overboard. 

Thank God, he sighed. Babe, I…

Cut it, she said as she got up from bed and started to leave the room. 

Wait, he pleaded as he grabbed her arm. 

She jerked her arm and groaned before going to the corridor. He followed her, trying to apologize and get her to talk to him. 

Y/N, I’m sorry, he said sheepishly. 

Please, she scoffed. You’re not sorry. 

I am, he assured her. Nerves got the best of me. I’m really sorry. 

Well, at least I got to know what you really think of me, she said. 

Where are you going ? He asked as she went down the stairs. 

On the couch. I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t sleep in the same room as people who think I am capable of betraying them, she spat. 

I didn’t say that, he defended himself knowing full well he had, indeed, said that. 

You did, Marshall, she said coldly. You literally said I tried to fuck you over. And not only do you think I am a terrible person, you also insulted my best friend. 

You’re not sleeping in the living room, it’s stupid, he said. 

Well I would have appreciated waiting until tomorrow to gather my things and figure out my next move, she pointed out. 

Your next… Y-You want to… leave ?! 

She did not answer. She only shrugged. Her demeanor and gaze were cold. She was clearly pissed, understandably so. But… Leaving ? She couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t lose her. He had promised to himself he would do everything in his power not to. The idea of her leaving put him in a state of panic and brought him back to their breakup, to that fateful Saturday morning, over pancakes, about seven or eight months ago. 

You can’t leave. 

Why should I stay ?! She spat. Why should I stay with someone who thinks I am capable of betraying them ? 

I didn’t mean that, he pleaded. I panicked, I’m sorry. Babe, I love you. I know you’d never… Fuck, I… Don’t leave me. Please. 

Let’s be clear, she said as she looked at him dead in the eyes. The only reason I’m still standing here is because my best friend is telling her future husband that they’re having a child and there is no way in hell I’m ruining that moment for her. Otherwise, I’d be over there and back in my old room already. 

Don’t do this, he said on the verge of tears. Please don’t leave me. I just… You seemed a little off, today, and you said it had been eventful, and when I saw the tests, I… I don’t know, I panicked. 

The reason I was off is because my best friend just told me she was pregnant, you dumbass ! She yelled. I was off because I had to stand in my own bathroom and hold these fucking pregnancy tests and see that they were positive and they’re not mine ! 

She was starting to cry again. She mumbled something in French and went to the living room, as he followed in her step. She sat on the couch and brought her knees to her chin. He stood there, watching her. 

Just leave, she said. 

No, he replied. I want to talk about it. I want to make things right between us. I’m so sorry… 

You want to talk ? Let’s talk then, she said sarcastically. You said you’re not having another kid, especially not with me. What was that ? 

I just don’t want more kids, he said evasively. I’m in my fifties, I’ve had three daughters, I don’t want more. 

I know that, she said as she rolled her eyes. And I respect that. But answer the damn question, Marshall. What did you mean about me ?! 

It doesn’t matter, he pleaded. It really doesn’t. You don’t want a kid, do you ?! 

Believe me, the last thing on my wish list is to have a baby, especially with you, she replied. 

Then it doesn’t matter, he simply said. I was out of line, I shouldn’t have accused you and I’m sorry. Let’s go to bed, I’ll make it up to you. 

Just say it, she said firmly. If you don’t, I swear to God, I’m packing a suitcase, calling a cab and booking a hotel room. 

I meant addicts like us don’t get to make that kind of mistakes, Y/N, he sighed. Addicts are shitty parents. I should know. 

Wow, she simply scoffed. 

She was staring at him with a look of both pain and disdain. He had obviously struck a chord. She closed her eyes and sighed. 

Why do you even bother with me ? She questioned. Why did you take me back ? 

What do you mean ? He asked nervously. I love you, I want to be with you. 

Why would you want to be with someone who you obviously think is not good enough ?! That’s just stupid, she pointed out. Why bother ? 

What ?! No, Y/N, I don’t… Of course you’re good enough. 

You know, I’m fine with your choices, she said with a hint of sadness. I respect that you’re done with marriage, and that you’re done with having kids. But you thinking I shouldn’t get to have children ? That fucking hurts. 

I’m sorry… 

STOP ! She screamed. You’re not sorry. I was ready to renounce having kids. Because I love you more than any unborn child. But do you even realize how much it hurts to know that if I had actually gotten accidentally pregnant, the person I sacrificed everything to be with would not support me ?! 

He felt his heart strain a little. Seeing the pain on her face made him feel like the worst asshole in the world. To be fair, if she had actually been pregnant, he would have supported her. Sure, he thought abortion would be a better option, but he would never force her. If they had been in that situation - and thank God they weren’t -  he would have stood by her side and supported her to the best of his abilities. He had simply been mean and stupid. Once again, anger had gotten the best of him. 

I would have been there, he said. Of course I would have been. I love you, Y/N. 

But you think I would be a shitty mom, she pointed out. 

I’ve seen addiction ruin families, he explained. It certainly ruined mine, in more ways than one. 

You still think of me as an addict, don’t you ? She asked on the verge of tears. No matter how long I can stay sober, you think I can’t be trusted ever again ? 

I-I don’t know, he replied honestly. In my book, an addict is an addict. I still think of myself as an addict. It doesn’t mean people can’t improve or recover but… It’s tricky. But I love you. I love you more than life itself, baby. 

She looked at him and simply shrugged. No matter what he said, he got the feeling that it would not matter much. He hated that angry side of himself. It wasn’t the first time that his anger got the best of him and ruined everything. He had been to therapy for his anger for years but, right when he thought he had made progress, it had to come and bite him in the ass once again. 

Please talk to me, he begged. Please say something. 

I have my appointment tomorrow morning, she simply said. I’ll pack my things when I get back. I will be out of here by the time you get back from work tomorrow.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Hogtied: Part 4

You're surprised the next day to see all of the men sitting at breakfast as though nothing is wrong. You sit with them, trying not to make it obvious that you are checking their injuries, only to look directly in Ghost's eyes when you try to casually glance over.

"We're fine, Luv. Be off for a while for recovery, but we are fine." You huff at him. "You know I worry about all of you. Especially with not being able to do the work myself. Bit of a control freak, I suppose."

Soap grins, "never woulda guessed you liked being in charge, hen. Coulda fooled me." You roll your eyes and turn back to your plate, happy they are in good spirits.

You ask them their plans for the day, but they don't have any beyond relaxing in front of the telly. With a nod, you agree with that. "Lunch is on me, then. Already owe the Captain butter chicken, anyway. I will set up an order, just call in what you want and they'll deliver it." Every set of eyes near you is suddenly laser focused. "Umm... I ate his butter chicken, and he caught me with it."

"Lordy, ye dinnae?!" At your nod, the men around you all start talking at once.

"I told him I would replace it, and he let me eat. But good god, you lot need to clean out that fridge more often. I went through so many gross leftovers trying to find something edible." Ghost smirks.

"Who's leftovers were you going to try first?" Your eye twitches as you contemplate if you should lie or start running, and you see his eye zero in on it.

"Nae, ye dinnae! Ye dinnae!"

"Shut up, Soap! It was yours, Ghost. I figured you ordered the best food, so I checked yours first!" With that, you stand up and run from the hall, Ghost leaping up to chase after you. You duck into a closing door just to the right of the dining hall and sprint to the other end, barely making it around the corner before he is onto you. He wraps his arms around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. "The food was bad! I binned it! I didn't even eat your food!"

"You tried to take it, that's guilty enough for me." He carries you to the rec room with the rest of the men are waiting and tosses you gently on a couch. "As punishment for raiding our fridge, you have to sit and watch movies with us."

"Can I at least go get my book?" You knew the answer, and he knew you knew, so he ignored you. "Fine, but I deserve the option to nap if you pick something shite."

"What do you mean by that? We don't pick shite."

"Time Traveler's Wife. We all cried over it, and if I find out who picked it... never getting numbing before stitches again!" Laughter spread around the room at your rant.

"Then what is your favorite one," asked Soap.

"Something with explosions, maybe some angst, oh a holiday movie! Die Hard. Die Hard is good." The whole room groaned. That was always your go-to answer.

"Doc, I know that ain't your favorite. C'mon, I know you hate personal questions, but ya gotta at least tell us your favorite movie on movie day." You shift uncomfortably on the couch and shrink into your, no König's hoodie a bit.

"I... umm... I like Gladiator. It's one of the only ones that I re-watch." The men are quiet at your answer, and Ghost squeezes your shoulder gently.

"Gladiator up first then." You rest your hand on his briefly with a small smile. Ghost and Soap flop down on either side of you, squeezing you between them. The movie starts, and you sit forward on the couch, nervous. Ghost leans forward and tugs you back, pulling you to lean against his side. "You can nap if you want to, but relax. You've been anxious since before we left."

"I could tell this mission was going to be a doozy. I hate being right." You watch the entire movie, relaxing against him with his hand rubbing your back gently.

When it ends, you sit up and stretch, glancing over and seeing Soap sleeping with his head tipped oddly. You stand carefully and readjust him, so he is sitting more comfortably. When you get back from peeing and grabbing a drink, you see that he has taken over most of the couch, leaving no room next to Ghost, who also looks like he is about to nod off.

When you edge back toward the door, Ghost wags his finger at you, so you look for an open seat. Your eyes alight on König, sprawled across a smaller couch by himself.

"Budge up a bit. Soap kicked me out of the cuddle pile." He chuckles and moves his leg to let you sit down.

"We make our own cuddle pile then." He lifts his arm so you can lay against his chest. The next movie is one you haven't seen yet. You only make it about halfway through before falling asleep. The smell of Indian food wakes you up. When you go to sit up, König's arm tightens around you, holding you against him as he sleeps. You debate pushing free, but opt to relax against him, falling back asleep. When you wake next, your body is sore from the shit couch, but you feel cocooned in warmth. Rubbing your face deeper into the warm has it moving away as König gently sits you up. As soon as he lets go, you press against him again.

"So warm... safe..." You feel his body melt against yours.

"Sorry, König. Should've warned ya that she is a level ten clingy cuddler when she falls asleep. Can't pry her off until she's actually awake."

"My back hurts," he says in response. That's all you need to wake up. You sit up, concerned.

"Has it been hurting all day or just since I came over? Can you wiggle your toes? Is there any numbness?" He just stares at your full 180 attitude while Ghost groans.

"The only thing that can get her to stop cuddling: Doctor Mode. Never mention a health issue if you want cuddles, bruv. She can't switch it off hardly at all."

"Do you have-?" König rearranges himself to lay on his back and tug you into his chest.

"Relax, Schatz. I am fine. We will watch more movies together." You relax against him again.

It only lasts a few minutes before you hear thrashing and yelling. You scramble up and see Soap fighting in his sleep. Everyone is standing well back, but Ghost looks torn. You push through the crowd and dodge Ghost's arms to carefully climb in Soap's lap, wrapping your arms around his torso to act as a stabilizer. You try to dodge his wild thrashing, feeling his fist clip your face as you move close to him. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck to keep him from hitting you again and begin singing quietly to him.

"Can ye no hush your weepin'

All the wee lambs are sleepin'

Birdies are nestlin' nestlin' together

Dream Angus is hirplin' oer the heather

Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell

Angus is here wi' dreams to sell

Hush ye my baby and sleep without fear

Dream Angus has brought you a dream my dear.

List' to the curlew cryin'

Faintly the echos dyin'

Even the birdies and the beasties are sleepin'

But my bonny bairn is weepin' weepin'"

Slowly, Soap calms, and you are able to relax your hold. He cries silently into your shoulder as you sing the lullaby through a second time. You pull back and rest a hand on his cheek. "Are ye alright noo, laddie?" He nods, laying his hand over yours. "Good, because I need to make sure you didn't tear anything up."

He growls and doesn't let loose your hand, staring at your face. "First ye'll tell me where ye git yon blue keeker."

"Ghost skelped me. Said I was too mouthy during the film." You pull your hand back with a grin and scoot back in his lap to tug up his shirt, checking that he hasn't popped any stitches.

"Dinnae be telling me havers."

"Ah wud never tell ye havers. Ahm a saint of a Catholic." Laughter bursts around the room, many knowing you were not Catholic at all and having heard many lies come from you to protect them or convince them to do something they hate.

"Ye dinnae have it when scran was here. Ye were sleepin on yon big yin." You shrug and glance over at the food.

"Well, ye look bonnie." You stand with Ghost's help, the grumble of your tummy making him chuckle.

"Go eat, luv. We got him from here."

"Ghost, did you hit the wee doctor? I ken ye dinnae, but-"

"English, Bubbles. And if she said I did, then I must have. The doctor is a saint of a Catholic, after all." Soap sputters, unable to form any words.

Walking over to the table, you spot your food, König's and... the Captain's. He didn't come get it. You huff and carry it to his office, knocking firmly.

"Enter," Captain Price's voice floats through the door. Opening it, you see he is in a meeting with another man.

"Sir, you didn't grab your lunch, so I figured I would deliver it." He nods his thanks and gestures for you to bring it to him.

"Since when are delivery drivers allowed to bring food directly to you? And when did they start dressing so terribly?" You glance down at the hoodie draped over you and open your mouth to respond. Captain's voice cuts you off.

"Sir, this is the doctor I was speaking about. It is merely her day off." He somehow balances censure of the other man with respect in a way that has you in awe of his skill.

"Hmph. In my day, women were expected to dress up for the men around them, on duty or off." You bristle, and Captain tries to intervene again.

"We do not police what the men wear on their days off. We certainly won't with the women we work alongside. Now-"

"I'm just saying female doctors need to have a little self-respect and demand enough respect to be obeyed by the men." Price could not be fast enough to silence your barked laughter.

"Sir, with all due respect, the men don't care at all what I am wearing as long as I am fixing their injuries. This hoodie you are so dismissive of is but a sign of the respect of the men. I wonder, how would you convince a heavily muscled, 16 stone man to submit to having the mask removed that he considers part and parcel to who he is? One that less than a dozen living men have seen under since he first donned it."

He snorts and says, "Enough orderlies will force any man to submit to anything."

"And thusly you have destroyed any and all trust that man has in you or the medical profession. I have convinced that man, peacefully, to remove his mask. Built up trust over time to convince him and many others to give a full and unabridged medical history by allowing them the right to privacy. Hell, I have convinced a prisoner that came here hogtied due to how dangerous he was to not only allow me to treat him without needing restraints but to allow the removal of his mask. That man has become one of our greatest assets, in part, due to the respect afforded to him, which started in the medical bay. So, to hear you say that brute force and dressing pretty are the only two ways to gain respect around here is not just inappropriate but sets a dangerous precedent for the men we serve. Such a precedent, I will not allow to take root in my clinic." Silence fills the room after you finish speaking. The man turns to Price.

"I'm convinced. Promotion approved." He signs a piece of paper on the desk. Captain grins at your stunned and confused face.

"Agreed. That was quite a moving statement, Major. Soon to be Lieutenant Colonel, I suppose." Your eyes narrow in suspicion as you look back and forth between them.

"Sir, am I to be expected to leave and work in a different facility, then? If so, I do not want this promotion."

"You'll have to go where assigned, doc. That's above my paygrade to influence."

"Yes, and your opinion on a promotion doesn't matter. If you are promoted, you will work where assigned until the end of your contract."

"I won't leave my men. It would take many steps back. It was jokingly mentioned not long ago, and they nearly mutinied."

"They will get over it." The man seems smug, and it is ticking you off something fierce.

"That's fine then, Captain. I am sure my parents will be thrilled to hear that I no longer wish to work for the military."

He winces, "Now, doll. There's no reason to go involving your parents. I'm sure we can work something out."

"Parents? The military does not care bout the opinions of parents." He scoffs at your threat.

"They do when they have money and political favors. Captain, I will do everything in my power to stay, including sabotaging a promotion. If you force my hand, I will find a way out rather than have to start over somewhere else. Please, do not push me on this, I love working here."

You are begging at this point. Leaving your men would be devastating. You've tried to stay under the radar ever since finding out that promotions mean leaving, even to the point of refusing to record the advanced training and techniques you have taken and the ones you have pioneered.

"I understand, Major. We will discuss this further later." You know a dismissal when you hear it.

"Yes, sir."

The next thing you know, you are back in the rec room, sitting in front of your food. Ghost appears at your side and nudges you gently.

"What happened, Luv?"

"I got promoted, I think. Maybe."

"Woo-"

"Shut up. It isn't a good thing."

"Why not? You are moving from Major to Lieutenant Corporal! That is great! They've been ignoring you for too long." He starts to stand, and you drag him back down.

"If I get promoted, I have to leave. I-i won't be here anymore. That's why I've been hiding from it."

"Oh," he says as he settles back in. "You've been avoiding more money and shit to stay with us? But why?" You nod and shove a piece of food in your mouth, trying to get a bit of time to think.

"I just... I really love working with you guys. It's exactly the job I wanted since I had to be a doctor. Working with adrenaline junkies who save the world, ya know?" You sigh and lean against his shoulder. "I really like the relationships I've built here. You guys are respectful and kind. Female officers don't usually much respect."

He rubs your arm gently. "Heard and understood, luv. We will figure this out together, then. Eat up, and we can watch another movie before dinner."

You wake up later sandwiched between Ghost and Soap on the couch, each wrapped around you somehow. Your last thought before falling asleep again is the way this feels like home.

The next week, Captain Price sets a meeting with you. When you tell Ghost, he immediately wants to go with you. Despite turning him down every time and refusing to tell him when, he catches the closing door and silently stands behind your chair. The Captain stares at him for a long moment before opting to ignore him completely.

"I've arranged this meeting to discuss your upcoming promotion and what it means for you and the men."

"I understand, sir. I can have the files updated and ready for transfer in about two weeks. I will need to meet one on one with each man to ensure the transferred files meet with his approval based on the policy in effect." Captain Price looks surprised.

"You don't intend to pass on the full histories to a replacement?"

"No, I am afraid they will be accidentally dropped into a paper shredder, and there will be an incident with a small bin fire just off base. Quite unfortunate, but not preventable." You keep your gaze passive and meet the Captain's own look evenly. "I will ensure that the approved files do not meet with such an end. I will also endeavor to provide a full list of the procedures and techniques that we have pioneered under my command so that there is consistency for the men. They do so hate change."

"I hope the former will not be necessary, and I implore you to implement the latter. As an aside, in speaking further with the RAMC, we have come to an agreement for you to stay here at this post indefinitely. It was deemed necessary to current and future missions to maintain consistency in medical care. I was asked to pass on a message: All doctors are required to record their advanced training and education, and thus, it is expected that you will update your records accordingly. I believe that covers everything." His grave face suddenly breaks into a smirk, just as you begin crying with joy.

"Thank you, Captain! Thank you!" He stands and moves around his desk to wrap you in a hug.

"You did good, doll. I am so proud of the work you have done, and now it will be recognized by everyone else." He smiles down at you and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Now, please do those updates. I called in some big favors and made some promises to work this out." All you can do is nod before you are pulled from the Captain and crushed against Ghost's chest.

"Woohoo! You're staying with us, luv!" He drags you to the door with a bare minimum of respect for Captain Price, refusing to let you stop and say goodbye. "Time to go tell everyone. We will have a party!"

"I've never seen you so excited for anything, Ghost. Slow down, I'm gonna trip!" He huffs playfully but slows down.

"I wanted to get you out of there before the Captain decided he needed to address what you so casually stated, but it is exciting to keep you on. I have been trying to decide how to break into your office for those files for the last week." You stop and frown.

"Don't do that. It would be dangerous to try to steal them." He cocks an eyebrow. "Yes, dangerous. You seriously don't think all I have protecting them are a few flimsy filing cabinet locks after how long it took to get that information. There is life and death information in them. I called in a few favors to build a security system of sorts for it."

"That's... that's sexy as hell, luv. You are one loyal woman." He stares down at you for several long moments, starting when someone clears a throat a little ways away.

"Sorry to break up the party. I heard you had your meeting today. How did it go?" König asks innocently, making you glare at Ghost.

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone!" He holds his hands up in surrender, backing away.

"I was pretty sure you weren't leaving, promotion or not. We just want to celebrate with you."

"Ghost! Lech mich am Arsch! Bastardo! Schluckspecht!"

"Come, mein Schatz. It is good that we celebrate now. You are staying, and we do not have to stage a rebellion." König picks you up as though you are just a child, carrying you away from a laughing Ghost even as you yell more insults. You want to fight away from him, but you can't stop from pressing closer. You can barely stop yourself from nuzzling against his shoulder. It takes a minute then for you to realize that he has turned away from the rec room, which is where you're sure the party is supposed to be.

"König, where are you taking me?" You catch your traitorous fingers rubbing at the back of his neck under the mask. "Sorry."

"I like your hands on me, meine Prinzessin. I wanted to talk to you without prying eyes and ears..." You rub your fingers against his collarbone through his shirt. "Yes, I like that." You blush and lean forward, stopping just in front of his lips. He cups the back of your head, closing the distance and kissing you through his mask.

You feel your back pressed against a wall and hear the jingle of keys. König has brought you to his quarters. He carries you in, kicking the door shut and locking it. Laying you on the bed, he says, "Tell me what you want, Schatz. I need to know."

"I want this, König. I want you. Bitte." He quickly strips off his clothes and mask, giving you space to do the same.

"Gut. I will fuck you, then I will take you to the party as meine Prinzessin... if you can walk." He chuckles as he climbs on the bed, pushing your legs up and laying his cock against your stomach. "It will be a tight fit. Might take all night to loosen up you up." He is excited, talking fast and teasing you with his fingers already.

"Promise?" Your question is loaded, but he nods happily.

"Yes, Prinzessin. You will take the whole thing before the night is over. I will make sure of it." He leans down close to your ear, "I will make you mine forever."

[dragonnan]

Nightmare

May 15

This one was published back in 2021. While it isn't a dreaming type of nightmare, I think it still qualifies.

Please let me know if you'd prefer not to be tagged :)

He could have taken the helicopter but, quite frankly, he had needed the drive in order to structure what he would say to them. Though, even as he pulled the sleek vehicle into the drive; gravel snapping and popping beneath the narrow tyres, he was no more prepared than he'd been when he'd left London. After turning off the engine he hung back for a beat – hands gripped around the wheel.

Whatever gods exist please let them not be home...

The house door opened and Mycroft swallowed – eyes closing for just a moment.

Before they could step out into the yard, however, Mycroft schooled his face and exited his car; feet settling onto the dusty drive. He should have changed into something more fitting; his polished black shoes were going to be scuffed beyond recovery.

“It's been three days; we've heard nothing – not even from that assistant of yours...” Words trailed away as Mycroft neared the door – those keen grey eyes taking in his features. Then, finally, his mother swallowed. “I'll go fetch your father.”

He followed inside. The trappings of the holiday still bedecked the walls and tucked in corners – red and green and things that glittered. The ghost of that wretched holiday nearly enough to spin his gut. Had it really been just three days? Having hung back in the sitting room, surrounded by the ruin of Christmas, Mycroft waited until he heard the back door open and shut – until he heard the tread of work boots cross the floor and the hiss of the tap as his father washed up at the sink. He'd been out in his workshop, then.

When he eventually made his way into the kitchen, his mother was setting the kettle to boil. There was a rum cake on the table – a holdover from their broken celebrations. Mycroft was quite certain he would never again deign to eat another slice of rum cake.

He felt caught in a current – his limbs disconnected from the floor below as he watched his parents carry out familiar movements cast in the die of decades – repeated and worn into the shape of the spaces around him until the very molecules in the air had been carved to fit their steps. It was nearly a head-rush that would have staggered him had he not been clinging with one hand on the door jam – that sensation of events playing themselves out to infinity. That sickening slip of déjà vu that wanted him to carry out his own predetermined patterns. He had taken these steps before... sat at the table, unburdened dire news which would fracture their family with regards to the youngest of them... that pall of death that had followed Sherlock from the very first time Mycroft had forced air into his stilled lungs in a filthy doss house. Seventeen years old and ODed on a tainted dose of cocaine from a disreputable dealer. Had he been the one, then, to stay that boney specter – to demand favor that would, eventually, demand its due?

Was this to be the payment demanded? To stand to the side while the blade of the guillotine fell?

Or was he the one required to let slip the rope from his fingers?

“Mycroft?”

His father's voice and proximity sent a rush of inhaled air through Mycroft's nose – head jerking back a fraction until his dark musings returned him to the room he'd fled. The tea was ready and Mummy stood next to the table while his father was less than a foot away – concern on both of their faces.

He stiffened his shoulders and walked to the executioner's block.

Once sat, he took his cup in hand and even sipped the warmth – his body so cold that it felt like a blaze sliding down his throat. He was aware that he was handling this all very badly.

His mother, likely sensing the impasse holding his teeth together, finally spoke to life the fear wrapping them all.

“Sherlock will not be allowed to go free.”

Mycroft's eyes fluttered shut, then, and he shook his head.

“No.”

“But you did not travel for over an hour to tell us that. We knew there would be a punishment of some sort. It's worse than that. Isn't it.” Her own tea remained untouched. At the edge of his vision, Mycroft watched his father take hold of his mother's hand. When had their home ever been so silent?

“He is to be held in solitary until the week's end. He is to have no visitors; myself included. On Friday, Sherlock will be escorted to my private airfield. There he will board a jet, to be taken to a location, deemed by M16 to be of high-value, which I am not at liberty to disclose... even to you. Such is the nature of this mission that, upon successful completion, Sherlock's debts will be forgiven and his slate wiped clean.”

Throughout this Mycroft kept his eyes fixed on his cup – watching the surface steam as it dissipated above the rim. When he finished, he considered another sip before noting the tremor in his hands that were held gathered in his lap. He breathed, measured in a count of eight, until they stilled.

Mummy, however, dithered with the cup in her free hand – the porcelain skidding on the old tabletop. Her voice, when it came, was stripped to a jerking hush. “Will he...?” Whatever remained of her question locked up tight behind her throat and when Mycroft lifted his head it was to watch a tear seep down one pale cheek.

But, then, he knew what it was she was asking. And maybe his silence, in reply, was more than enough answer because she turned into Siger's embrace and, with shaking shoulders, began to weep.

Some time later, Mycroft was halfway through his third cigarette, while overlooking the back garden. The burning fag jutted from between two fingers where they rested on the black metal gate. How recently he stood in this very place.

It had grown quite chilly, the past several nights; dipping down as low as six degrees. There was even the chance of snow flurries in the morning.

Finishing the cigarette, Mycroft tapped the ash tip against the fence before tucking the butt in his pocket. It struck him, then, that he would never steal away for a smoke with his brother ever again.

He didn't remember when he moved. He only knew that he came to himself as he was pounding his fists against one of the rough stone posts that stood on either side of the gate. The blood in his ears was pumping so loudly that he could not hear what tore from his throat – could only feel it in the vibration of his vocal chords. In truth he would have remained lost in his rage far longer had not arms wrapped around him from behind. In that moment Mycroft knew his father's embrace.

He sagged, then, in those strong arms. Stronger than the older man appeared to anyone who didn't know him. He held his oldest child as Mycroft tipped his face down into his spread hands and began to sob. Rough, jagged pieces of glass that left behind bleeding wounds where they ripped through his chest.

How long they stood there was lost to time. Mycroft only knew that at some point his father had laid an arm across his shoulders and was guiding him inside with soft words while Mycroft had all he could do to place one foot before the other in a mostly straight path.

When next he was logging events it was to blink owlishly at the stout mug of something steaming and alcoholic resting on the coffee table, before him. He lifted it and took a sip. Ah – father's special hot toddy spiced with cardamom. He had taken several sips before finally taking in more of the room. His eyebrows lowered when he noticed that the only other person in the room was his father – the older man sitting in his favorite chair next to the fireplace. His face was haggard and eyes rimmed red. At Mycroft's glance, Siger tipped his head towards the hall.

“She's lying down. It was... it's too much. We almost lost him, so recently, and now...” his throat bobbed and he subsided – long fingers twisting together. Mycroft held the warm mug in his hands – his fingertips tapping against the rim. Only then did he feel the sting rising in his knuckles. Blood filled every crease – though it was obvious the injuries had been cleaned and treated with a topical ointment. His eyes closed and he felt the flash of burn from his dried out stare. He was aware of losing time repeatedly and, were he not so emotionally flattened, it would have been troubling.

He held the mug in his hands until it cooled – setting it aside once he finally noticed the absence of heat.

“I've failed him.”

The words whispered free before his mind had fully formed them. Yet, the moment they were voiced he knew the truth of them. He had failed. The only mission in his life which truly mattered and he had failed... abysmally.

And his brother would pay for that failure. And there was nothing he could do to repair this.

He expected no response from his father – what was there to say? He was aware of Siger looking towards the low flames in the fireplace. His eyes were wet.

And so they remained; each trapped in their own misery.

An hour later his father stood, approaching to rest a hand against his cheek, for a moment, before going off to bed.

He had only intended to deliver his news before returning home but Mycroft found he scarcely had the energy remaining to slip his shoes from his feet before curling on his side.

He was asleep before he even finished the mental note to call Anthea in the morning.

The following day was possibly worse than the evening which had preceded it. His mother was, by turns, furious and horribly silent. Even his father, normally a stoic man, had a tremble in his jaw and more than once wiped beneath his eyes. It was a journey through hell as Mycroft forewent breakfast in his urgency to flee.

There were six additional texts from John as well as two voicemails. Certainly no point in perusing them – it was readily apparent what the man had to say and Mycroft deleted them without bothering to listen. He had no answers for him and the ones he could have provided would be a disservice to his brother's friend. There were too few things he could do for Sherlock. This, at the least, was a mercy he could offer.

There were many affairs he had to put into order. As it was they were not entirely new – having been established the last time Sherlock had confronted a madman. The difference, of course, was that Mycroft's involvement, back then, was to provide the greatest assurance of his brother's survival. Now...

It struck him, all at once, in a sort of breathless fashion so strongly that he was forced to pull to the side of the road. His hands clasped on the steering wheel and he felt a wild pounding through his chest and it was some outer observation of himself that recognized panic. That part of him, though, was incapable of offering more and even his sense of time was wiped away until he finally, eventually, came back to himself layered in sweat that felt icy against his temples. His mouth was tacky and dry so he opened his door to walk around back to the boot where he had a cooler among other supplies. The water almost hurt when he first swallowed – his throat was so parched. In short order, however, he'd emptied it and screwed the cap back onto the depleted bottle – tossing it into the cooler before retrieving a second and taking it back to the driver's seat.

It was an additional ten minutes before Mycroft felt confident to drive. But as he pulled out onto the roadway it was with a hum of determination that had begun to build from the moment Sherlock had pulled the trigger to end Magnussen's miserable life. He would not allow Sherlock to face this alone. Not while blood still pumped though his veins. No, he may not be able to alter this fate. However, he still had the autonomy his position afforded.

Even if it meant walking with his brother into the flames.

His uncle would have accused him of excessive drama. Rudy, though, had long viewed sentiment as little more than a tool for manipulation. And, in that moment, Mycroft found he didn't care one whit what Rudy Vernet thought.

He needed to contact Anthea again – an adjustment to protocols which had been previously established. She would not thank him, once she became aware of his intentions. However, she would, he hoped, understand. There was no other way.

In three days he would watch his brother board a private jet.

An hour later, Mycroft would take a temporary leave – boarding a commercial flight under an alias known only to Anthea.

He was quite certain he would never see London again.

He found no regret in this choice. In fact, for the first time since Christmas, he felt peace.

He only had one last task to accomplish – something he had promised his brother before Sherlock was locked away in a private cell. Contact dialed on his mobile, Mycroft was unsurprised when it was picked up scarcely after a single ring.

“Mycroft – what the hell is going on? Where is Sherlock...?”

“John. My apologies. Sherlock has been detained and I'm afraid he has not been allowed contact. However I...” he licked his lips; suddenly aware of a dangerous tremble which he forced aside before it could slip into his speech, “I was able to procure... a moment.”

“Moment? What...”

“To say goodbye. John.” Not fully silent, on the other end, Mycroft was able to note the sudden deep breaths. One last mercy, perhaps. “As recompense for the shooting, Sherlock is to avail himself to MI6 as a field operative. It was deemed a far better fate than to waste away in a cell.”

The breathing caught as John composed himself. When his voice returned it was subdued.

“How long?”

Mycroft rubbed his thumbs against the steering wheel. “Indefinitely.”

He had no trouble imaging John's eyes shuttering closed. “I see.”

They disconnected shortly afterward.

As grayed hills gave way to London streets, Mycroft pulled the tatters of self back around his shoulders. This was for the best. After 6 months, John Watson would receive a substantial deposit into his bank account – more than enough to see to his child's upbringing and education. He would know only that Sherlock had arranged for the funds via his trust. He would wonder – likely assume, correctly, that Sherlock was no longer alive. He would mourn and he would move on. After all, he had done so, once before.

As to Mary; Mycroft would have her under watch. Anthea would see it through personally. Should the former assassin ever show any indication of returning to her former life... should she ever present a danger to John or their child... it would be handled. His parents...

And here Mycroft faltered in his manic plans.

And not only his parents. He had responsibilities that only he, and very few others, were aware existed.

He... he could not do as he desperately wished.

There was only a vast emptiness of winter pale hills beyond the windscreen. The promised flurries had begun to fall shortly after five that morning – the roadway gilded with sparking flakes that frosted the browned grass and clung to the branches of trees. As the flakes began to thicken, building into a proper snow, Mycroft switched on the fog lights in spite of the fact he shared the road with no other vehicles.

Before the weight of it all could drag him beneath the rising waves, Mycroft mentally took hold of himself. He had allowed emotion to wrest control of his faculties. He had... indulged a fantasy. But that was all it would ever be. It was over now. It was all over, now.

It was time to move forward.

His parents would never forgive him. This, though, was something he had been prepared to face. And it wouldn't be the first child he had taken from them.

Before his maudlin thoughts could overtake him, yet again, Mycroft dialed a number on his mobile once again. There was no sound of a ring and only moments passed before he heard the click of a connection. “Anthea. I need you to make arrangements. It's for John Watson... and Sherlock.” He licked his lips; moving into a lane that would take him into the city and on to Whitehall. He remembered, with sudden and breathtaking vibrancy, a tiny face with watery blue eyes, peering up at him from the folds of the blanket cradled in Mummy's arms. And he knew, as well, that he gave himself away with the tremble that broke in his voice.

“It's time to say goodbye.”

Comment on AO3

Tagging: @totallysilvergirl

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Can you please write something with Kenny Omega x fem reader,

Kenny has his surgery (for his diverticulitis) coming up and is nervous about the surgery, reader is there for him to comfort him and also is in the hospital with him and stays in the hospital for the entire time, so that reader is the first person he sees after waking up?!

There for you

An: I had no idea what to call this fic, leave better suggestions lol

Kenny Omega X femReader

Kenny Omega Masterlist Main Masterlist

The moment Kenny got his diagnosis I promised I would be there for him no matter what. I would be at every appointment and do whatever I could to make the best of this situation. When Kenny found out he needed surgery him and I were both nervous. Despite Kenny having multiple surgeries in the past this one was different. This surgery would not be easy, the recovery time would be long and Kenny would be in a lot of pain. Regardless I would be there for every second. 

Today was surgery day and although I would never tell Y/n, I was scared. I hated putting her through this. I felt like this was a never-ending cycle. Ever since my belt collector era, I had found myself constantly out of action. I contemplated retirement but decided to do a final run with The Bucks for the trios’ titles. That plan got screwed over when we all got suspended and during that time I realized I was far from done. I still had things I wanted to do in my career and like always Y/n was nothing but supportive of me. When I first started feeling sick I ignored it, I had matches booked, storylines were being written and I coudn't get sick. I assumed it was a bug as a lot of the talent caught this stomach bug but mine never went away. Y/n had to beg me to go to the hospital and when I finally did I was told I was lucky I came when I did. If I had waited any longer this whole thing could have been way worse. 

As much as we tried to avoid surgery it came to the point where I needed it. Like always Y/n was there for me for every second. She comforted me and took after me the whole time. In the days leading up to my surgery, she prepped the house to be perfect for my return. She even spent the holidays with me in the hospital which I know was hard for the both of us. She held my hand while they put me under, telling me how much she loved me and how she would stay for the whole operation. Everything that happened after that was a blur. I didn’t know what time it was when I finally woke up but I knew it was late. Hospitals always creeped me out, especially during the night but this time I felt at ease. Looking down I could see all the bandages and tubes on my body, it freaked me out. The only light in the room came from the hallway of the hospital and the moonlight that shined through the window. It was quiet, the only sound was the beats of my heart that echoed off the monitor. Beep….Beep…Beep. As I looked around the room, I noticed Y/n curled up on a chair in the corner. Although I didn’t see her at the time her presence in the room was all I needed to comfort me.

 “How are you feeling?” Y/n asked me quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you” “I wasn’t really sleeping. They said everything went well. You should be able to come home tomorrow” That I was thankful for, I couldn't wait to be back in my own bed. “That’s good, I feel fine for the most part” “Good, you are on a lot of pain meds. When they start to wear off you have to tell the nurse.” Y/n told me tirdly “Thank you, Y/n” “For what?” “For everything, for always being there. I really don’t deserve any of it” “Oh hush, you do deserve someone to take care of you Ken. You should try and get some rest, your body needs it.” “Yes ma’am, Good night” “Night, Love you” “Love you too” How did I get so lucky. 

[hrefna-the-raven]

Mistletoe

Masterlist - DBH masterlist

Words: 796

Warnings: pure fluff

It was your first Christmas together with Ralph. You had met the android a year ago at an abandoned house. It took considerable effort to assure him that you harbored no ill intentions towards him, despite being a human. However, you eventually succeeded in gaining his trust and persuading him to relocate to your apartment. Witnessing his emotional recovery, as well as his newfound sense of security in your presence, brought immense joy to your heart. Over time, Ralph became someone incredibly dear to you, his presence consistently uplifting your spirits with each passing day.

As you trudged through the front door, exhausted from yet another grueling day at work, a sigh of relief escaped your lips. Finally, you were back home, away from the chaos and stress of the outside world. Little did you know, however, that your own little haven had undergone a miraculous transformation in your absence.

As you stepped into the hallway, a surprised gasp escaped your lips. Your eyes widened in awe as you took in the sight before you. Lights in a myriad of colors adorned the walls, casting a warm and festive glow. They danced and twinkled like stars on a clear winter's night, filling the room with an enchanting aura. But it wasn't just the lights that captured your attention. Small Christmas-themed decorations were carefully placed along the walls, adding an extra touch of magic to the ambience. Delicate snowflakes hung gracefully, as if suspended in mid-air, while miniature reindeer perched on delicate branches. Each decoration exuded a sense of love, as if they were meticulously chosen to bring joy to your heart.

You walked through the living room, smiling at the the flickering lights from the beautifully decorated Christmas tree that sparkled with holiday cheer. Your eyes were drawn to the bottom of the tree, where a little toy train was merrily chugging along its tracks, encircling small, clumsily wrapped presents with your name written on them. You stepped around the corner to the kitchen where you finally spotted Ralph meticulously icing freshly baked cookies. He hummed a tune to himself, lost in his own world of sugary delight. As you cleared your throat to get his attention, his head immediately shot up and he turned around, the concentrated frown turning into a warm smile.

"You're home!", he beamed, dancing towards you, holding up a cookie, "please try, Ralph made them himself, they're succulent, Ralph promises."

You giggled as you took a bite from the cookie. A small moan left your mouth at the delicious taste of cinnamon and fresh lemon icing.

"Delicious", you hummed as you ate the rest.

"Ralph is happy, Ralph spent all day to decorate and bake to make you happy. He hopes you like it, he hopes you", his eyes darted to the ground as he mumbled the rest, "like Ralph."

Your heart felt as if it would burst from all the sweetness he was throwing at you. You could never deny the affection you held for him, from the moment you first saw him. You knew in your heart that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, if only he would allow it. Seeing him now, cheerful, almost hopeful after he went through so much trouble just to make you happy, it truly warmed your heart and the love you held for him almost felt too much. Lost for words, you simply nodded, silently holding back the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes. You yearned to take a step closer to him, but a hand gently held you in place. His other hand tenderly lifted your chin, directing your gaze towards a sprig of mistletoe hanging above the doorway.

"Ralph read about human Christmas traditions and he thought that maybe...you and him could...maybe...", he trailed of, the nervousness in voice growing with every additional word.

Your heart skipped a beat, realizing what he was trying to say. A smile crept up on your face as you looked back at him, and before he could fully comprehend what was happening, your fingers curled around his neck, pulling him closer. Your lips collided in a tender and affectionate kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as you felt your heart flutter with a mix of joy and love. All those feelings that you had kept locked away for so long finally found their way to the surface. The kiss lasted only a fleeting moment, but it was enough to convey a lifetime of emotions. Pulling away, you watched as a smile spread across Ralph's face, his eyes sparkling with happiness. The nervousness that had plagued him before was replaced with a sense of contentment and relief.

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

🎶jamie tartt🎶

🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo 🌹doo

This is delightful, I love it! Have some Jamie in therapy:

“Picture your ideal life,” Dr. Morton told him one day, a couple of weeks in. Jamie’d slept well that night, for once; come in lose and relaxed. “Say from this moment forward, your life goes exactly as you want it. What does that look like for you?”   He’d dreamed of making it to the Premier League, back when he was a sexy little lad, same as every footballer, but beyond that he’d never much bothered, not when making it that far was such a toss up. “I want to get old,” he decided. “Not now, obviously, but eventually, d’you know what I mean? Be one of those old blokes that sits around on the porch chatting with everyone. Roy could yell at all the kids to get off his lawn, you know he loves that shit. And before that… I dunno. Playing football, hanging out with my mates and mummy and Simon and Keeley and Roy, and all them. Winning the Champions’ League, that’d be fucking mint.” “And your father?” Jamie tried to picture it: his dad sober and remorseful, the way he sometimes had been after his stints in rehab, cheering in the stands at his matches, telling him better luck next time, lad, when they lost. Apologizing for all the shit he’d put him and mummy through, promising he’d never do it again and meaning it. Tried to picture holidays with him at the table but all he could see was the only birthday party he’d held at their flat, back when he was ten years old, watching dad nervously out the corner of his eye as he chugged down beer. “There’s no right or wrong answer here, Jamie,” Dr. Morton said softly. “This is just about what you want. In your ideal future, is your father part of your life?” “No,” Jamie whispered. “I know it’s shit of me — should try to help him out, shouldn’t I? Be there for ‘em if he tries to get better?” “Jamie, I am going to tell you two things about that, and I want you to listen to them both, okay?” Jamie nodded, winching his hands tighter into his shirt. “The first is, you cannot base your relationship with your father on the person he might become. That’s his choice to make, and if the time comes that he makes it and you decide that you want to be involved in his recovery, you and I can discuss how to do that safely — but right now, you have to make your decisions based on the person that he is.” She leaned forward, arms braced on her knees. “Second — and this is the most important one — you don’t have to do any of that. If your father chooses to get sober tomorrow, if he apologizes and never touches another drink or says another abusive word to you as long as he lives, you can still cut contact with him. If you want him in your life, now or in the future, I will help you establish boundaries to do that. But I want you to give yourself permission to move forward independent of him, no matter what choices he makes. Good or bad.”

[mysticmunson]

cool about it: steve harrington

authors note: i wrote this tonight after seeing a writing prompt from tiktok (i’ll put the screenshot at the end) while listening to boygenius

warnings: mentions of death, angst, unrequited love

The March where you both lost classmates to the Upside Down, destroying almost the whole town and leaving nothing much besides rubble and broken glass. Rebuilding was expected, but as Robin grew closer to Vickie, Steve found his way around you more and more.

For some unknown reason, his parents had become insistent on him dating, determined for him to ‘get his life started’. The wedge between him and them grew, pushing him to your home where you both would listen to music, watch movies or invite the other kids over.

Recovery wasn’t easy, sometimes being woken in the middle of the night to the imaginary flashes of red or the screech of otherworldly creatures. Not being able to talk to anyone, including licensed professionals, made both of you feel ostracized. Steve would attempt to take women out on dates, but felt like an impersonator, a mere shell of the King Steve they had heard of.

As weeks became months, your bond became thick, going to him first for anything you ever needed as he did the same with you. He would bring over small trinkets, claiming he saw it and thought of you. Even when he would go on the arranged dates, he would drop them off with a kiss on the cheek and speed to your house with a change of clothes.

It was on a cool winter day when you realized it, watching a Christmas movie when you excused yourself to go to the restroom. As you exited, you saw him on the ground, sitting with his knees bent, watching the family enjoying the holiday with a faint smile. His hair was messy, there was a spot of pizza sauce on the corner of his mouth, and his glasses were almost falling off his nose.

Stuck in place, you went back into the bathroom before he noticed, taking a deep breath and joining him. Going from no secrets to one felt heavier than you thought, but this was the same Steve that never let you down and if he did, would make it up to you immediately.

So as the crickets chirped, his watch faintly ticking, you took a deep breath. Glancing at the sky you saw one star shine brighter than the others, twinkling as you smiled with sadness, knowing Eddie would’ve wanted you to do it. He wants you to.

“I love you.” You spoke in a hushed tone, practically quivering and feeling the air become much warmer.

He grinned, looking up at the stars and then at the world in front of him. One that seemed so fun when he was in elementary school, that seemed so attainable in middle school, and that seemed terrifying in high school.

“I love you too,” He beamed, “I’m so happy we can just be friends without that other stuff getting in the way.” Patting your knee in a comforting manner that inadvertently scorched your skin, he didn’t realize the knife he just threw at you in the broad daylight of your heart.

It was foolish, you knew how he hadn’t recovered properly from his time with Nancy and that he was finally becoming content with his situation. It would be detrimental to his own growth to have a failed relationship right now.

“Exactly,” You forced a smile, “I always know you’re in my corner.”

“You’re always in mine.” He agreed, looking forward and not to his left where you sat.

The corner you sat in, watching him become the Steve you always knew he was. One that was caring, funny, a bit self deprecating, and so many other things that the traumatic events almost stole from him. But part of you wished you had the same corner, the room becoming wider and wider as his words settled.

The proclamation seemed futile now, lip wobbling as you saw the once glowing star begin to simmer. A sharp intake of breath made Steve look your way, worrying at your stray tears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He questioned, rubbing your back, the touch making you want to cry harder. Shaking your head, you shrugged, glancing back up to the sky above.

“I don’t know,” You answered truthfully, “I just hope we can look back and laugh one day.”

He nodded with an empathetic smile, patting your shoulders, not knowing you didn’t mean the alternate dimension. That you didn’t mean your outfits or jokes. That you didn’t mean this town.

That you meant your own emotions, either laughing at how clueless he once was or how silly yours were. You almost wished you had said it, just so he could be mean and both of you move on.

However Steve sat there, brown eyes with wavering hope within the hues, not pestering you on your abnormal tears. He knew the feeling of misplaced emotions, something he knew too well that made him miss yours entirely.

As you sit on the roof of the Harrington home, you won’t speak of this moment, not due to your pain, but for Steve’s mundaneness. You will follow his conversation lead before convincing him to let you walk home alone.

He begrudgingly lets you, demanding a phone call within an hour or he’ll go searching for you. You assure him, giving him a hug, and making your way down the well lit streets. One day you’ll forget the way back to your own home, the way to his home too. Tonight wasn’t that night, everything was real and eating you alive.

But you had to remain put together. You and Steve needed one another, more than either of you would admit. So as you got ready for bed after the brief call with Steve, you laid with dried tears, knowing that despite it all, you had to be cool about it.

tagging mutuals: @lilacletter @andvys @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @oneforthemunny @munsonology @dearest-readers @bimbobaggins69 @masterofmunson

[kjmsupremacist]

poison sweet off the vine (chan/felix)

Chan, a poor student hoping to make a little extra money while he pursues a masters in music production, lands a gig as a super rich family's pool boy. He thinks it's pretty sweet at first. He'll get to stay in a fancy house and eat fancy leftovers and all he has to do is clean their pool and help out around the house. And then he meets Felix, the bratty, sharp-tongued, skirt-wearing son of his employers. He knows he could get fired for just looking at Felix the wrong way, but Felix, even with his stormy, unpredictable moods and ignorant selfishness, is alluring and beautiful.

Part 1 | next mlist

Characters: Chan, Felix, other members of skz throughout

Genre: smut, eventual romance, angst, I cannot overstate how much of this is sex

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: alcohol, family dysfunction, mentions of homophobia, slut-shaming (both the fun kind and the not fun kind), feminization

Rating: Explicit

Length: 12.4k

Felix has got some shit going on in this one. It's not, like, super serious and we don't really get into addiction territory, but I will say it might be triggering for some people, so please just proceed with caution.

On that, we also don't really see what I would say is a realistic path of recovery or whatever. The ending is by no means meant to be read as "and then they lived happily ever after the end" but I leave a lot out because ultimately this is a horny fic within a sort of fucked up setting, and I didn't want it to turn into a pedantic exercise. So I guess this is sort of me saying the dove isn't dead, per se, but it's not doing well. I'm in no way trying to glorify mental health issues brought on by neglect and self-loathing, so please just keep that in mind.

Chan probably should’ve known what he was getting himself into. 

After months of searching for side jobs and apartments, he finally found what seemed to be a perfect solution—pool boy and general assistant around a grand estate, with room and board covered. The house is huge, with large, comfortable staff quarters. It’s a short bus ride away from the University of Sydney, where Chan will be pursuing a masters in music composition and production starting in February. And while the family who owns the place are rich and snobbish, they’re nice enough, and seemed reasonable during his phone interview.

Chan had no reason to say no. So in early December, he packed himself up and moved back to Australia from Korea, away from all his university friends and into a house of strangers. He’ll be missing the holidays with his family, but he wanted to start making money, so here he is. And up until this moment, Chan thought everything was going to be fine. 

“You’ll sleep here.” Mrs. Lee shows Chan to his room personally—a basement level bedroom with a small connecting bathroom and a sizable closet. There’s even a small desk in the corner—perfect for when Chan will stay up late studying. “You’ll use the small kitchen to make most of your meals, but we have luncheons and dinners sometimes to which all the staff are invited. Additionally, our cooks usually buy a little extra on groceries in case something goes wrong. If there are any leftovers, they of course go to our live-in staff members. So don’t worry too much over your grocery bills. For tonight, of course, I hope you’ll join the family for dinner so we can get to know you. I understand you’ll be taking classes after the break?”

“Yes ma’am,” Chan says, nodding as he tentatively drops his bags on the floor.

“If you could just send me your schedules as you get them, that would be helpful,” Mrs. Lee says. “I will try to let you know in advance if there are any important events where we need you, but for the most part I’ll leave those decisions to you. I just like to know when we can expect you to be home or away.”

“Will do,” Chan agrees. 

“Mostly, you’ll help with outdoor maintenance. We do have a gardener, but we let him know that he can feel free to ask for your help with more menial tasks.” Mrs. Lee gestures for Chan to follow her down the hall. “Here’s the staff laundry. There is also our main laundry room, where our maids take care of the family’s laundry. Since the holidays are coming up, we might be a little short-staffed over the next month or so. If our maid needs a hand with the laundry, can I ask you to assist?”

“Certainly,” Chan says.

“Perfect.” They head back up the stairs. “I believe that’s all I have for you, except to give you your key. Please use the staff entrance through the back. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Ah, yes,” Chan says. “Are there specific hours I’m expected to keep? Such as being up at a certain time?”

“Unless one of us requests your presence earlier, I don’t mind when you get up as long as your sleep schedule doesn’t inhibit you from performing your duties,” Mrs. Lee says. She rummages around in a drawer in the study. “Here.” She produces a silver key on a plain keyring, handing it to Chan. “Try not to lose it, but if you do, just tell us straight away. We know a good locksmith, so it will be a quick fix. You have all our contact information?” 

“Yes,” Chan says, attaching the key to his ID protector that also has a few of his other things on it. “Thank you.”

“I think we’re all set, then,” Mrs. Lee says, leading Chan back out into the foyer. “I think introductions will wait until dinner, as my husband doesn’t get home from work for a few hours and goodness knows where Felix is—”

“I’m here, Eomma.” Chan turns at the sound of a deep voice, and sees his undoing poised at the top of the grand staircase.

He’s the prettiest thing Chan has ever seen. His hair is dyed a pale pink, and grown out so his bangs sweep low past his ears, the longest strands just brushing his shoulders. Chan can make out freckles scattering across his face, and delicate silver jewelry dangles from his ears and neck, glinting in the light as he makes his slow way down the stairs. Most notably, though, he’s in a baby pink blouse, tucked into a short white skirt, with matching pink knee-high stockings. 

Chan’s world tilts. He knew that this family had kids, that they were around his age. But at the time, Chan had reasoned that it wouldn’t be a problem. He’d be too busy between work and eventually school to develop much of an interest, and besides, they were probably all boring, spoiled brats that Chan would become disenchanted with the instant he saw them. 

Now, he has to grapple with the fact that he was sorely mistaken. Everything is not going to be fine, because his new employer has a beautiful, skirt-wearing son, and Chan has to fight to tear his eyes back to Mrs. Lee instead of staring at Felix’s thighs when his skirt flutters with every step.

“Is this the new pool boy?” Felix asks, and Chan doesn’t miss the lofty tint in his tone. He bristles a little, but it’s hard to stay mad when he glances back and catches sight of Felix’s cute little button nose scrunched just slightly against the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Yes, this is Chan,” Mrs. Lee says. “Chan, this is Felix, my son. He’s just finished his first year at university and is home for break.”

“Hi, Felix,” Chan says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Felix replies as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “You’re studying music at Sydney Uni, aren’t you? For your masters, right?”

“Ah, yes,” Chan says, realizing that Felix must already know all about him; he has no doubt the parents shared his resume and details with their children before agreeing to hire him. “Where are you studying?”

“UWA,” Felix replies, smiling politely. “I’m not sure what I’ll be studying yet.”

“Perth,” Chan says, nodding. “That’s quite aways.”

“Not as far as Korea,” Felix says, and Chan can’t tell what he means by that. “Besides, Perth has some of the best schools, so it’s worth it.”

Chan decides that he’s being put down, but can’t figure out how, exactly, so doesn’t bother trying to piece it out. It hardly matters, anyway; Mrs. Lee is right here, so it’s in Chan’s best interest to remain ignorant and well-mannered. “That’s true,” he says simply.

Felix looks between Chan and his mother for a moment. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he says, and walks down the hall.

Mrs. Lee watches him go with a small, fond shake of her head, then turns back to Chan. “Feel free to head back to your room, wash up, maybe take a nap,” she offers. “I’m sure you’re tired from traveling. Dinner will be at seven.”

Chan ducks his head in lieu of a proper bow. “Thank you again for everything,” he says, and makes his escape. As he weaves back through the house, Chan catches a glimpse of Felix padding out into the garden. He’s got a full bottle of wine in hand, almost as pink as his stupid little stockings.

Chan sighs. It’s going to be a long summer. His only consolation is that Felix will go back to Perth at the start of the next semester and only be back for breaks, and Chan will be able to drown in his homework in peace.

* * *

Dinner is served at the big, fancy table in the dining room just off the foyer. Chan makes his way through the maze of hallways and sees an army of staff setting the table. He counts four positions—the parents, Felix, and him, then. The daughters aren’t supposed to be back for another week, if he recalls.

Mrs. Lee is directing her staff, positioned in the threshold of the kitchen entrance, tasting dishes and sending some back. She spots Chan during a lull and steps into the dining room fully. 

“Please, take a seat.” She gestures him to the spot furthest from the head of the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Ah,” Chan says, pulling out his chair but hesitating to sit. “Just water, please. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, don’t worry,” she replies, ducking her head back into the kitchen. “A glass of water, please.” She pops her head back out to the dining room. “Though if Felix doesn’t appear by the time my husband arrives, I might ask you to go fetch him.” 

Chan inclines his head, though the thought of it makes him tense. He doesn’t like the idea of being alone in a room with Felix. He’s not sure if it’s fear over what Felix will say to him, or fear of his own impulses. Maybe both.

The table is set before Chan; eventually, Mrs. Lee is satisfied with her staff and takes a seat, too, to the right of the head of the table, opposite side as Chan, which means Chan’s seatmate will be Felix. Great. 

Mrs. Lee checks her watch. “I think he just got home,” she says. “Would you mind getting my son for me? We don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Sure,” Chan agrees, pushing his chair back cautiously and standing. “Any places I should check first?”

“Out in the garden, most likely,” Mrs. Lee replies. “If not there, then the pool, and if not there, then his room.”

“Got it.” Chan heads through several rooms to the back door, shoving his feet into the slippers Mrs. Lee had laid out for him there when he first arrived, and punches in the code on the alarm system so the siren doesn’t go off before opening the door. 

The air is muggy and thick and oppressive. Chan feels the moisture on his skin as soon as the door shuts behind him. He trudges across the vast second-story patio and over the bridge that looks down onto the smaller patio below, as well as the pool. No sign of Felix there. He crosses into the gardens, venturing deeper until he comes upon a clearing. It’s lined with carefully-maintained plants and a few statues. There, on the other side, sprawled on an ornate bench beneath the grand weeping willow, is Felix. He had one arm draped over his eyes, the other hanging off the bench, clutching the neck of the wine bottle, which rests somewhat precariously in the grass. 

“Ah, Felix?” Chan tries. Felix doesn’t budge. Sighing, Chan makes his way across the clearing, swatting a bug away as he nears him. There’s a nearly-red tinge to Felix’s cheeks, obscuring his freckles. He must have gotten some sun, despite the fact that this entire clearing is in shade. Then again, he’s been out all afternoon, Chan supposes. He comes to a stop a few feet away from the bench, unsure. The skirt Felix is wearing is riding up his thighs. Chan clears his throat and tries not to stare. “Felix, your father is home and your mother asked me to bring you to dinner.”

Felix raises the hand over his eyes, squinting up at Chan. There’s a blankness on his face for a few moments, and then a detached sort of recognition falls into place. “Pool Boy Chan,” he says, voice slow and syrupy. “Your welcome dinner, right. It’s seven already?”

“Seven-twenty,” Chan supplies.

Felix sighs, peeling himself up from his perch and bringing the bottle into his lap. Chan sees it’s almost completely empty, and understands the flush on Felix’s cheeks. He watches as Felix yawns, runs his eyes, and then surveys the contents of the bottle. “Ugh, it’s all warm,” he mutters, but downs it anyway before pushing himself up to his feet, now-empty bottle swinging at his side. He sways for a second but rights himself before Chan can reach out to help him. “Well?” he prompts, looking at Chan. “Are you gonna stand there, or are we gonna go to dinner?”

Chan wonders how Felix’s parents will react to the wine, but decides it’s not his place to say anything. “Right, yeah,” he says, turning and shuffling back the way he came, checking over his shoulder every now and again to make sure he hasn’t lost his charge. 

Felix picks his way through the garden with ease. How are his stockings still so perfect? How is his blouse still tucked and smooth? How is he pretty even with a sour attitude and alcohol warm in his cheeks? Chan balks at this last thought. Stop it. You cannot be thinking about how pretty your boss’s son is. On day one. Get a fucking grip, Chris. 

Felix does trip going from the grass and dirt of the garden to the concrete and tile of the bridge. Chan catches him, staying steady even when the wine bottle hits him right in the elbow. Chan makes the mistake of inhaling when Felix is pressed close. He smells like wine, certainly, but he also smells like lemons and sugar and something that makes Chan want to press his tongue to Felix’s skin. 

“Sorry,” Felix says in a tone that’s just a touch too silky for his loss of balance to have been accidental. Chan steels himself, making sure Felix is solid before simply letting go. 

“No worries,” he replies mildly. If Felix wants a reaction out of him, he’s not going to get one. “You okay?”

Felix nods, lifting the bottle a bit. “Drank most of it sitting down,” he says, offhand. “Thought I would sleep it off, but…”

Chan nods wordlessly, continuing across the bridge and patio, back to the door. He unlocks the door, sliding his shoes back off and waiting as Felix struggles a little with his. When he offers his hand, though, Felix gives him a look of disdain. 

“I’m tipsy, not catatonic,” he says, tone icy. Chan retracts his hand quickly before he can stop himself, stung. 

Felix gets rid of the empty wine bottle somewhere between the back entrance and the dining room. When they return, Mr. Lee is just settling into his chair. He looks up and, upon seeing Chan, offers his hand to shake. Chan hurries to accept. 

“Chan?” Mr. Lee asks. 

“Yes, sir,” Chan says. He doesn’t miss the slightly sharper inhale from behind him—thinly veiled amusement from Felix. He doesn’t turn his head. 

Mr. Lee also ignores this intrusion. “Mr. Lee, and no need to call me sir,” he says. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you for getting Felix,” Mrs. Lee adds, picking up a dainty bell beside her empty wine glass and ringing it once. “He’s often late, though I must say it’s not like him to… indulge so much before dinner.” There’s a sharpness under the polite tint of her tone, Chan notes as he slides into his chair and reaches for his napkin—disappointment, edges jagged with embarrassment.

“I just had a couple glasses of wine,” Felix defends. Staff members file into the room, carrying pitches, dishes, more wine. “I’m on break, Eomma. I’m relaxing.”

“Only one glass with the meal,” Mrs. Lee says. 

“Eomma,” Felix complains. 

Mrs. Lee’s eyes flick to Chan, then back to her son. “Fine. Don’t do it again.”

Felix nods. Chan files this exchange into his mind to study later. 

Wine is poured, soup is served, and dinner begins. 

“So, you’re studying music, Chan?” Mr. Lee asks.

Chan is grateful the soup is made from cold cucumbers; he swallows quickly and painlessly so he can respond. “Ah, yes, music production.”

“The arts are very important,” Mr. Lee says. “But they require a passion.”

“I believe I have that,” Chan says as politely as possible. 

“That’s good,” Mr. Lee says. “We are nothing without drive, ambition.”

Felix takes a long pull from his wine glass. 

The rest of dinner goes this way—polite drivel bounced back and forth like a casual tennis match between Chan and the Lee parents, while Felix mostly ignores all of them in favor of his meal. Each new course resets Chan’s expectations for just how horrendously rich this family is. A dish featuring caviar is followed by a truffle risotto, and then lobster. The wine is endless, so Chan keeps to sips.

He also gets the distinct impression that family mealtime is rare, a practice that is stored away in a cabinet with the nice dishes, taken down and used only when necessary. 

Chan doesn’t keep track of how much Felix is drinking, but by the time dessert comes around, the flush has crept down Felix’s neck. Still, he seems steady enough, and when he is pressed for a comment, he provides one with ease. So is that what he is? I guess every rich family has its functional alcoholic. More money, more problems. 

“Thank you for the meal,” Chan says earnestly when the staff come to clear the last of their dishes away.

Mrs. Lee offers him a smile. “Of course,” she says. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Congratulations,” Felix cuts in before Chan can formulate a reply. “She’s impressed with your table manners.”

“Felix,” Mrs. Lee says, tone cool but meaning clear. “It wasn’t a test, Chan,” she adds. “We just would provide some… instruction if you had been… less practiced. So you could be prepared in the case of a more formal event.”

“Ah,” Chan manages. 

“Well, on that note,” Mr. Lee says. “I think we’ve held Chan here long enough. You must be tired from traveling.”

“A bit,” Chan admits. It is true, but he’s mostly interested in getting away from the awkward tension at this table. 

“Go on and get some rest, then,” Mrs. Lee says. “Both of you. The staff will clean up here. We—” She gestures to her husband. “—will likely be gone when you get up and will return later in the evening. That’s typical of our schedules. Meals are whenever you’re hungry. Our kitchen isn’t fully staffed at the moment, but Chan, please help yourself to any leftovers. Maya—one of our senior employees—will be able to help you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says. Felix is already standing. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Chan takes this as a final dismissal, and hurries to follow Felix’s retreating footsteps down the hall.

He doesn’t catch up to him; the steps leading down to the staff quarters are closer. As he descends, he looks back and catches a glimpse of the swishing white of the skirt and the faintest whiff of sugary lemons. 

* * *

Chan collapsed into sleep as soon as he got settled in his room, exhaustion pulling him down into unconsciousness almost violently. When he wakes, the house is still and dark, the air in his room stale. There’s a damp patch directly beneath his body on the sheets from a small accumulation of sweat—he must not have moved a muscle since shutting his eyes. 

Though fatigue weighs on his limbs, his mind is decidedly awake, so Chan pushes himself up, slapping around for his phone and then groaning when the bright screen sears his eyeballs. 

Eventually, he discerns that it is 5:17 a.m. Chan’s an early riser, but not this early, so he blames it on the nap he took before dinner yesterday. In any case, it can’t be jetlag, since Korea is an hour behind Australia. Chan gets up and dressed, bumbling around his room quietly and trying to kill a little time. 

Around six, his stomach growls angrily, so he resigns himself to human interaction and opens his door, making for the kitchen. 

The light is on when he gets there, and an older woman is stacking dishes in one of the cupboards. She must have heard Chan approach, or else simply has a great sixth sense, because she turns as he enters. 

“Chan?” she asks. She’s white, unlike most of the staff, with weathered skin and crooked teeth and piercing eyes. Chan guesses she must be in her mid-fifties; her hair is just beginning to grey. 

“Ah, yes,” he says, realizing it was more a question than a greeting. 

“Maya,” the woman says, and some neural pathway manages to fire in Chan’s brain and reminds him that this must be the woman Mrs. Lee mentioned the night before. “Good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Chan replies. 

“You hungry?” She returns to her task, sliding some plates into place. 

“Yes,” Chan says. 

“Me too.” She takes the last handful of silverware and files it into a drawer. “How about some bacon and eggs?”

“That would be amazing,” Chan says. “Can I help?”

“If you want toast, it’s in here,” Maya says, tapping a long, skinny cabinet door as she shuffled past on her way to the fridge. “Could you grab me a slice? Not toasted, though, just leave it on a plate. Do you want coffee?”

“Yes please,” Chan says, taken aback by her blunt but warm welcome, lurching into motion and crossing to the cabinet. 

Chan makes toast and Maya cooks at the stove, coffeemaker brewing to the side. “Mr. and Mrs. Lee are already gone,” Maya tells him without him even asking. “Felix will get up anywhere between seven and noon. The girls will be the same. Generally, as long as you’re polite and you don’t get… underfoot, you’ll find your time here to be quite pleasant.”

Chan registers that she’s offering him some valuable advice. “I’ll keep it in mind, thank you,” he says.

Maya looks him over out of the corner of her eye. “You seem like a nice young man, though,” she says. “I doubt you’ll have a problem.”

“Have there been… problems before?” Chan ventures. 

Maya is quiet for a moment, but eventually she responds. “Yes, we’ve had a few pool boys in the past. Of course, some simply moved away, but.. we had a few get in trouble for making passes at the girls.” She turns and Chan sees she’s done cooking—she’s holding two perfect plates of bacon and eggs. “Not just the pool boys, of course, other staff members have been fired for similar reasons. It’s usually that, or stealing.” She offers Chan one of the plates.

“Thank you,” he says. “And thank you for explaining. I am just here to earn some money while I’m in school, though, so you’re right, I doubt I’ll have a problem.” That is, unless Felix takes over my brain, he adds silently. 

The leathery skin of Maya’s cheeks wrinkles as the corners of her mouth tug up in a small smile. “Good.” She nods towards the door. “Go on, find a spot at the island. Take your toast. I’ll bring the coffee and jam.”

Chan’s just finishing up his food when Felix stumbles in, head in his hands. He’s barefaced and puffy-eyed and wrapped in a simple silk robe. It hangs loose at the chest. Chan snaps his gaze back to his plate before he can get caught looking. Felix slumps into a seat at the far end of the island.

Maya has already finished eating, and was in the kitchen cleaning up, but she comes in now with a mug of coffee and a small tablet of medicine in the other hand, tsking at him softly. 

“Thank you,” Felix grumbles quietly. “I haven’t thrown up yet, but if I do, I’ll clean it myself.”

Maya hums her approval. “Just toast for now?” 

“Yes please,” Felix says. 

Chan listens to this exchange attentively. This Felix is entirely different from the one he met yesterday. He kind of expected him to snap at Maya, to be antagonistic the way he was before, but instead he’s small and quiet and contrite. Maybe Chan misread him. Or maybe his hangover is just that awful. 

Felix downs the pill Maya brought him with a soft groan. There’s a heavy silence save for the soft scraping of Chan’s fork against his plate. And then—

“No, I don’t usually drink like that,” Felix says flatly, and Chan nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“I didn’t say you did,” he replies quietly once he recovers. 

“You were thinking it,” Felix says. “Last night. And yes, I’m usually polite to our staff. I’m spoiled, but I’m not a monster.”

The Felix Chan met yesterday had been a bit of a monster, rude and arrogant and selfish, so Chan doesn’t know if he buys that, but he just puts his utensils down and looks up at Felix, holding his gaze. “Okay,” he says.

“You’re not smarter than me, okay?” He says it with such finality. 

Chan’s not exactly sure what he means. “Uh, okay,” he agrees anyway, taking his final bite of toast and washing it down with the last of his coffee. 

Felix nods and goes back to being miserable into his palms. Chan almost feels bad for him—almost. 

He brings his dishes back to the kitchen, protesting weakly when Maya takes them. 

“Your job isn’t in here,” she says. “Go on, tend to the pool before it gets too hot.”

“Thank you,” Chan says, and slips out the front entrance so he doesn’t have to confront Felix again, heading back to his room for some sunblock and a bottle of water. 

Though it’s only a bit past seven by the time Chan makes it outside, it’s already punishingly hot. He tries to make quick work of it, skimming off dead leaves and dead bugs and other unidentifiable debris. He tests the water, tests the filters, tests the temp, and clears the pool deck of debris as well. He checks the stock of towels, water bottles, liquor and ice and mixers behind the bar on the far end of the patio. By the time the pool and deck look spotless, it’s nearing eleven and Chan is drenched in sweat. He retreats to the shade, treating himself to a bottle of water.

He doesn’t see Felix approach, but suddenly the boy is standing over him, dressed in nothing but short black swim trunks, sunglasses pushed back over his hair.

“Come float with me,” he says. “You’re gonna die of heatstroke if you don’t.”

Chan grunts, taking another swig of water. “I'm supposed to be working.”

“Well, are you?” Felix asks. “Working? The pool’s already clean. Jerry isn’t here today, so there’s no gardening to do. Your only responsibility now is keeping me company.”

Chan’s still not sure how to take this shift in attitude. “I don’t think that was in the job description.”

Felix’s eyes narrow, his eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. “Fine, sit here and melt then, I don’t care.” He turns to go; Chan finds himself wounded somehow by the sourness in his voice.

“Hey, alright, alright,” he says quickly, pushing himself up onto his feet and tugging his tank top off. “You’re right, anyway, I’m melting.”

Felix turns back, and his gaze is bright again. “Good,” he says, and slips into the deep end.

Chan joins him, and has to admit the relief of being in the cool water is almost overwhelming. He paddles out to Felix, tipping onto his back. “Feeling better?” he asks. 

“Mmhm,” Felix says. “Toast, coffee, and antiemetics work wonders.”

Chan can’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s what Maya gave you?”

“What, did you think it was an antidepressant or something?” Felix asks. When Chan hesitates, he groans. “We’re not that stereotypical. Rich family with tortured children. No, we’re just about regular in terms of dysfunction.”

Chan isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond to this, so he just kind of hums. 

“What’s your family like?” Felix asks. He floats into Chan; their shoulders bump and settle against each other. Neither of them move to pull away.

“Ah, I dunno, we’re pretty boring,” Chan says. “Grew up here, actually. Moved back to Korea. I have two younger siblings, a sister and a brother. Hannah’s in secondary school. Lucas is still in primary.”

“And you’re going into music,” Felix says, like he’s reviewing a file.

“Trying to, anyway,” Chan replies.

“I wish I could go into music,” Felix says. “But Abeoji says it’s not sensible. So I’m studying business and communications. He wants me to take over for him.”

Chan can’t conjure up much sympathy. No matter what Felix does, he’ll be doted on and provided for for the rest of his life. He has a path laid out before him; all he has to do is walk it. If he says he wants to walk it but is too tired, his parents would probably conjure up a gold chariot to carry him down it instead. Maybe it’s not what he wants, but it’s secure. Chan wishes he had security.

He feels tiny fingers on his bicep and looks up. Felix is ghosting a hand over the muscle, watching Chan, waiting. 

“What?” Chan asks.

“Do your parents know you’re gay?” Felix asks bluntly.

Chan blinks. “Uh, how did you know I’m gay?”

Felix gives him a look. “Please,” he says. “I already told you, you’re not smarter than me.”

“Yes, my parents know I’m gay,” Chan says, sighing. “Why?”

Is Felix moving closer? “How do they feel about knowing?” 

“They’re supportive,” Chan says uncertainly. Felix’s hand is still on his arm. His lips have gotten color back into them, pink-red and plush, Cupid’s bow all dramatic corners and enticing. Chan can smell him over the chlorine and sunscreen. Lemons and sugar and something else. He swallows, hoping Felix doesn’t see.

“Lucky you,” Felix says. “How do you feel about knowing it?”

“I’m not emotionally constipated, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Chan says. He can’t stop staring at Felix’s lips. He wants to grab his little wrist. He wants to grab both of them, wrap his arms around Felix’s waist, pin his hands behind his back, and kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. “I’m very comfortable with who I am.”

“Lucky you,” Felix repeats. Closer still; his eyes are half-lidded. Chan could count his freckles. He could kiss every one. “Lucky me.”

We had a few get in trouble for making passes at the girls. Felix wouldn’t be any different, Chan knows. Chan would be fired on the spot. He needs an escape, so he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head, wrenching himself from the lust-addled stupor Felix has somehow coaxed him into. “If you don’t usually drink like you did last night, then why did you? Last night?”

It works, at least; Felix pushes away. “I’m hungry,” he says instead of answering, paddling over to the ladder. “Let’s get lunch.”

Chan accepts this, hurrying to follow him.

* * *

The next week passes mostly in this way. Chan gets up early, cleans, spends the midday either lounging or helping one of the other members of the staff. Maya cooks a lot of his meals. Felix comes to bother him on occasion, demands for his time or attention. When Chan accepts, Felix is bright and sunny. His air of general superiority never goes away, but he’s fun to hang out with when he’s not actively trying to get Chan to touch him. When Chan rejects him, too busy with work or too tired to withstand the teasing, Felix’s entire disposition shifts, dour and sulky and often rude. He retreats into himself for the rest of the day, punishing Chan by punishing himself. I guess he’s just used to getting his way, Chan thinks to himself. Not a monster. Just spoiled.

Still, in the back of his mind, Chan remembers the first day. What had Chan done that day to elicit the moodier Felix? Was it something Chan had done at all, or was he simply a convenient target for Felix’s ire? He’s not sure. He’s not sure which option he dislikes more.

The girls arrive that weekend. Chan meets them briefly; Rachael, the eldest, is much like her mother, and will be out most days because she has an internship. Olivia, the youngest, is sweet and funny but spends most of her time chatting on the phone with her boarding school friends. Their parents, at least, had the foresight of putting all of them in separate wings, so there’s very little chatter about the house, even when all three are home. Felix has rooms on the fourth and highest floor of the house, and overlooks the back patio, gardens, and pool. Olivia is in a tower to the east—like, a literal, actual tower; Rachael sleeps on the third floor in the western area of the house, nearer to the elevator and overlooking the front drive. The primary suite takes up a majority of the rest of the third floor, which is about all that Chan knows. He’s only been as high as the second floor once, and it was to fetch something for one of the maids. It’s mostly guest rooms and entertaining space. 

Felix’s sisters are friendly, but they generally keep to themselves even when they are at home. Chan imagines they’re skittish around new male hires, and can’t blame him. He wants to tell them they don’t have anything to worry about, but knows it won’t do any good. Still, the idea does give him some dark amusement. Don’t worry about me, girls. It’s your brother I want.

And god, does Chan want. Felix is always in short little skirts and dresses, sometimes with stockings and other ridiculous little accessories, and is usually made up too, with sparkly eyeshadow and dark eyeliner and smudged mascara and sticky lip gloss on his pouty lips. He always ends up in Chan’s space whenever he can get away with it, coming up to him when he’s working on the pool or settling in the grass beside him in the garden or perching on a running washer while Chan works on a new load of laundry. He leans in close until Chan’s head is filled with the smell of him, taunting Chan, daring him to take.

Chan maintains his composure as best as he can over the next couple weeks, better than the first day at the pool now that he knows what he’s in for. Felix asks him about himself, and Chan answers delicately. He doesn’t pry into Felix’s personal life. He tells himself it’s because he’s being professional, or that he doesn’t want to give off the impression that he’s interested in Felix, which he fears will only make him bolder. But really, he knows it’s because he’s afraid that he’ll like what he finds, dragging him impossibly deeper into this weird psychosexual vortex, or else that he won’t like what he finds, but will nonetheless be enraptured by Felix’s terrible beauty.

He even jerks off to the thought of Felix despite his guilt, hoping it might cure him of his desire, but it does little to curb his impulses. Instead, it fills his dreams with Felix. Tortured, awake and asleep.

It’s not like Felix is helping in the slightest. If it were just in Chan’s head, he could probably bear it, stuff it away in some dark corner of his mind and soldier on. But the problem is, Felix seems to be determined to make Chan crack. He’s not even sure if Felix actually wants him, or just loves to toy with him. Either way, it’s kind of working. Chan is a man possessed.

Some days are like the first day, though. It doesn’t happen often, but Felix will disappear, and when he returns, it’s with alcohol in hand and an invisible veil over his features. He gets drunk and doesn’t speak to Chan or anybody else and stumbles off to bed. The next morning he pays the price for his indulgence, miserable but resigned. It’s almost like he’s punishing himself, but Chan doesn’t know for what. Still, by noon, he’s his regular self again, probing and selfish and dripping sweet poison that makes Chan nearly lose all sense. 

Chan does all he can to cling to his sanity. Keep your hands to yourself so you’re not tempted, he tells himself one hot morning as he pours himself a lemonade behind the bar, chores finally done. No matter what he does. You can’t control him, but you can control yourself.

And, of course, Felix appears. He’s in a little skort-bottomed bikini, baby pink with cherries smattering the surface of the fabric and heart-shaped pink sunglasses slung over the string in-between to the two cups on his chest. Chan feels a heat rise to his cheeks immediately, and fixes his gaze determinedly on Felix’s face instead. 

“Can you mix drinks?” Felix asks, hopping up onto one of the barstools. “You used to bartend, right?”

“Uh, yes,” Chan says. 

“Make me a Sex on the Beach,” Felix says, and Chan tries not to choke on his next sip of lemonade.

“D’you even know what’s in one of those, or are you just saying it because you like the name?” he asks with raised eyebrows, suppressing a cough.

“Vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice,” Felix rattles off immediately. “And sometimes those cherries or an orange slice. But I like mine with more peach schnapps and less vodka.”

Chan sighs at him. “I can’t just feed you alcohol. I don’t care if you’re old enough, I shouldn’t enable you. Your parents will kill me if you swan into dinner drunk on cocktails I made you.”

“I won’t get drunk off one cocktail,” Felix says. “Especially if you make it with less vodka and more schnapps.” When Chan hesitates, Felix wheedles, “Fine, no vodka at all. I just wanted to watch you make it, really. That’s all.”

“What?” Chan blinks at him stupidly. “Why?”

“You have nice arms,” Felix replies, like it’s simple. “I like strong guys, you know.”

“Well, I’m definitely not doing it now,” Chan mutters.

“Chan.”

“Felix.”

“Please?” Felix makes his eyes big and sad and pitiful.

“Will you lay off if I do?” Chan barters. 

“Pinky-swear,” Felix says, offering his pinky.

Chan links his reluctantly. “Okay, fine. Just one, though. No vodka, just schnapps.”

Felix keeps to his word. He doesn’t say anything else suggestive or flirty. What he does instead, Chan thinks as he lifts a bottle to measure and watches Felixfollow the line of his arm, is much worse. His eyes darken, his tongue poking out to swipe over his gloss-covered lips. He drags his gaze over Chan’s body, hiding nothing about it, about where he’s staring and why. Chan is embarrassed by the attention, of course, but mostly it all just goes straight to his dick. Felix is practically begging Chan to fuck him, and Chan wishes more than anything he didn’t have to say no.

He finishes making the drink, dropping a couple of maraschino cherries in, and even finds a pink umbrella to garnish it along with a matching straw.

“Thank you.” Felix’s voice is even deeper and huskier than usual. Chan clenches his fist around the neck of the schnapps bottle as he moves to put it away. “Ooh, this is really good. You must’ve been popular as a bartender.”

“I got good tips.” He cleans off the counter and dries his hands. “I’m, uh, gonna go in and see if Maya needs anything from me. Leave the glass in the sink when you’re done. I’ll clean it later.” He starts walking before he even gets an answer.

But Felix’s voice floats over to him on the wind, sweet poison just like the drink in his hand. “See you later, Chan.” 

Chan doesn’t go see if Maya needs anything. He heads straight to his room, locks the door behind him, and turns the shower on. He strips quickly, throwing his clothes on the floor and steps in under the cold water, chest heaving.

He comes with his forehead pressed to the cool tile, icy water pounding against his back and fist wrapped around his cock. It barely keeps the heat beneath his skin at a simmer.

When he goes back to the pool, Felix is nowhere to be found. The glass is clean and drying on the rack.

* * *

It’s on a particularly hot day that the last of Chan’s resolve melts into nothing.

Felix’s parents are both out, his father at work and his mother at some kind of social gathering; his sisters are gone, too—Rachael at her internship and Olivia at a friend’s house, and most of the staff have already taken leave for the holidays—Christmas is less than a week away. So it’s just Chan and Maya, and Felix.

Felix came down to breakfast that morning in something rather modest, actually—a light, flowy skirt that fluttered a few inches above his knees, and a plain t-shirt tucked into the waistband. Simple and demure. Chan had let it lull him to a false sense of security, thinking, it’s too hot today for mischief anyway, right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Chan’s checking one of the filters in the shallow end of the pool, water lapping at his thighs, when Felix pokes his head out the back door. “Chan,” he calls.

“Yes?” Chan looks up, rinsing his hands off in the pool water.

“Can you help me? The zipper on my skirt is stuck, and I can’t twist it around to the front to see what’s wrong.”

Chan knows it’s dangerous. His promise to himself from the week before echoes faintly in his head. Keep your hands to yourself so you’re not tempted. But Felix looks genuinely upset. And it’s not like there’s anyone else to help him—Maya’s probably busy with the laundry, or working on lunch since their private chef is off until Christmas Eve. 

It’s just a zipper, Chris, he tells himself. You can handle a fucking zipper. “Sure, lemme just dry off.”

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” Felix replies, disappearing inside again.

Chan grabs a towel and runs it over his legs, just so he doesn’t drip all over the floors, and then chucks it on a nearby pool chair and ducks into the cool relief of the house. He pads across the hall and knocks on the bathroom door. 

Felix opens it and Chan slips inside, trying not to stare. Felix is shirtless, wearing just his skirt and a pout. Unlike Chan, he doesn’t try to hide his staring at all; Chan considers only now that he should’ve put a shirt on before coming in, or at least kept the towel as some kind of buffer. 

Not that it would’ve done anything, he thinks wearily as he gestures for Felix to turn around so he can look at the zipper. He’s as incorrigible and fickle as they come. 

The zipper is, in fact, stuck—Chan has to wrestle with the fabric as delicately as possible, but growing up with a little sister wasn’t for nothing, and eventually he manages to free it without putting a snag in a single thread. He doesn’t unzip it all the way, just far enough that it’ll be easy for Felix to reach. He’s honestly a little bit afraid that Felix is naked under the skirt, and that interaction is the last thing he needs.

“All set,” he says, cringing at the way his voice comes out, hoarse and weak. 

He turns to leave, but one of Felix’s tiny hands curls around his wrist, pulling him up short. “Finish unzipping it for me,” he says. “It’s hard for me to reach.”

“Felix.” Chan turns back around. “You can do it yourself.”

“Why don’t you wanna do it for me?” There’s that pout again, the pretty pink lips, glossy and so inviting; the wide, pitiful eyes. Chan almost falls for it, too entranced.

“You know why.” Chan tries to gently pull away, but Felix’s grip is too strong. “Felix,” he repeats. He thinks maybe he’s pleading with him, please, have a little mercy on me.

But Chan isn’t sure Felix knows how to be merciful, at least not in the face of something he wants. “Unzip me,” Felix demands, voice soft and almost petulant. “You said you’d help.”

Just unzip him and run, then, Chan thinks, sighing and moves behind Felix again, shaking his hand until Felix lets him go. He pulls the zipper down all the way and nearly bites his tongue so he doesn’t curse out loud.

He’s cursing a lot in his head, though. Fuck, shit fuck fuck fuck shit, oh fuck. Because Felix isn’t naked under the skirt. It’s worse.

Felix shimmies his hips a little so the skirt falls to the floor. He steps out of the puddle of fabric, then bends at the waist to pick it up. Fucker, Chan thinks. “What? D’you like them?” Felix asks, throwing Chan a glance over his shoulder. “Hyung?”

What a stupid question. Chan tips his head back, forcing himself to stare at the ceiling instead of at Felix’s cute little ass wrapped in a baby blue swimsuit bottom that’s only a few square centimeters of fabric away from being an honest-to-god thong. Felix has them hiked up over his hips, leaving very little to Chan’s imagination. He wants to escape before he sees what the front looks like and abandons all of his feverish promises of goodness right here and now.

“Felix,” Chan says through gritted teeth. “I don’t think your parents would appreciate this behavior. I certainly don’t.”

“You don’t?” Felix’s voice sounds closer, but Chan doesn’t dare look down. “Are you sure about that?”

Chan is absolutely sure about that. His body, however, has other plans. He can feel himself getting hard, and he knows if he doesn’t get out now, Felix will be able to see it through his swim trunks, and he’ll be done for. 

He feels fingertips on his waist, soft and warm. “Hyung,” Felix murmurs. “Look at me.”

Chan can’t help it. He crumbles completely at the sound of Felix’s voice, low and sweet and so enticing. He brings his head back to center, eyes focusing on Felix, and his breath catches in his throat as his gaze instantly travels lower. The front of the swim bottoms barely cover him; one wrong move and Chan’s certain Felix’s dick will pop free—which, he reflects, is probably exactly what Felix wanted. He flicks his eyes back up to Felix’s face, and is met with a devious little grin.

“I’m looking,” Chan says. “What else do you want from me?”

“I think you know exactly what I want,” Felix says.

“We can’t,” Chan says. “It’s not—appropriate, you know it’s not.”

“Why, because you’re working for my parents? So what?” Felix says. His hands are still on Chan’s body, trailing up his stomach. “They don’t have to know. It’s not that big of a deal! You’re only a couple years older than me, it’s not like it’s that scandalous. I want it. Don’t you?”

Chan swallows roughly. His skin is hot where Felix is touching him, even though goosebumps have broken out over his back where the A/C is blowing. This is it. Chan’s going to ruin his life for a terrible, pretty boy, and he finds that he doesn’t even care. “I do,” he whispers. He grabs one of Felix’s hands, the one that’s trying to sneak a little too low. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Victory shines through on Felix’s face, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Fucking finally,” he goads.

“Shut up and come here,” Chan says, and leans in and kisses him. 

Felix squeezes Chan’s waist with his other hand, gasping into his mouth. Chan takes a step forward, and another, cupping Felix’s jaw with one hand and nearly crushing his fingers in the other, backing him up against the wall. He licks Felix’s lip gloss off his lips, his teeth, his tongue. It tastes like artificial strawberry, gooey and sickly-sweet. He drops Felix’s hand, breaking away from him for just a second so he can take his baseball cap off, so the brim doesn’t get in the way. He throws it over in the direction of Felix’s discarded clothes without looking, and surges forward to kiss Felix again. Felix moans, taking hold of one of Chan’s biceps.

“Fuck,” Chan pants, reaching down and palming Felix’s ass, groaning when Felix hums out a noise of satisfaction. “God, if your parents weren’t gonna kill me before, they’re definitely gonna kill me now.”

Felix giggles. “No, they won’t.”

“I don’t care,” Chan says, dipping his head so he can nip at the sensitive skin of Felix’s neck, kissing over the hollow of his throat. “I’ll tell them it was your fault. You were the one who kept flirting with me, kept riling me up. Always wearing your shortest skirts, always looking for an excuse to touch me.”

“I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t looked at me like that on the day we met,” Felix shoots back, and Chan flushes in embarrassment. He should’ve been more careful, he shouldn’t have even wanted it in the first place, but—well. It’s far too late now. “You made it so easy. It was too fun, I couldn’t resist.” 

“You’re such a brat,” Chan bites out. “Don’t act like it was just for fun. You wanted me to fuck you from the start.”

“So are you going to?” Felix asks. “Fuck me?”

“Well,” Chan says. “We’re gonna need lube. And probably a condom. And we probably shouldn’t be in the bathroom, what if Maya walks by? What if your mum gets home early and comes looking for you?”

“We could go up to my room,” Felix says, but he makes no move to pull away, and neither does Chan. Instead, Felix’s fingers find the waistband of Chan’s shorts. He toys with the fabric. “But I don’t want to wait. I want to come.”

“Already?” Chan asks, like he isn’t just as worked up, like he isn’t hard and aching just centimeters from Felix’s fingertips. 

“Touch me and find out,” Felix replies, and Chan doesn’t need to be told twice. He reaches down, ghosts his palm over the bulge in Felix’s obscenely small swim bottoms. Felix whines softly in his ear, so Chan gets bolder, curling his fingers and squeezing just slightly. The noise it pulls out of Felix’s chest is poisonous and wonderful.

Chan tugs the swim bottoms down as Felix lets his fingers slip inside Chan’s pants. A string of precome stretches from the head of Felix’s cock to the fabric before snapping midair. Chan presses his thumb against the slit, looking down to watch a few more beads dribble out over the tip when he pulls away. He collects it with his index fingers, spreading it down the length of Felix’s cock before taking him in his fist. “So messy, Felix,” he murmurs.

Felix fumbles for Chan’s cock, moaning softly. “Your hands are so big,” he whimpers. His hips twitch up into Chan’s palm. “Feels good.”

Though Felix is wet, there’s still too much friction, so Chan releases him for a moment. Felix whines at the loss, but Chan shushes him, spitting into his palm, and then takes him in his fist again, letting his spit mix with the precome, making the glide easy and smooth. Felix stutters over a moan, letting his head tip forward so his forehead is resting on Chan’s chest. He runs his fingers up the length of Chan’s cock, then brings his hand back out to the waistband of Chan’s shorts and tugs them down with a frustrated noise. 

Chan moves his hand faster over Felix’s cock, a dark, nasty sort of pleasure blooming in his chest when it makes Felix tremble. He lets out another choked little moan, and Chan shushes him. “Someone could hear you, and we don’t wanna get caught, do we?”

Felix doesn’t listen. “Cha-an,” he slurs, pressing a wet kiss to Chan’s chest as he fumbles with his cock. His little fingers are a bit clumsy, but it doesn’t matter to Chan. Felix is touching him, like he’s been imagining, like he does in Chan’s dreams. He’s not entirely sure this isn’t just another dream, except that it feels so real. He can smell sugar and lemons and Felix. He speeds up his hand, moaning low when Felix nips at his skin. 

“I tried, you know,” Chan huffs softly. “You know that, right? I tried not to let this happen. I tried not to want you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Felix says against his skin. “Didn’t work.”

“No it didn’t, did it?” Chan finds it easy to accept. “Look at me, baby.” 

Felix straightens, looking up at him. There are stars in his eyes. “What?”

Chan doesn’t reply, just kisses him again. His lips are so soft, mouth so inviting. Chan could kiss him all day, he thinks, running his tongue over the backs of Felix’s teeth. Felix rolls his hips in time with Chan’s hand, stroking Chan at the same pace, letting himself be kissed. The noises he makes against Chan’s lips only make the dark pleasure grow. Felix is ruining him, but at least the destruction is mutual. Chan’s gonna make sure he’s the best fuck Felix will ever have.

Felix pulls away to pant out, “Chan, Chan, oh fuck, so good, daddy, fuck,” and then he’s shooting hot white release onto Chan’s fingers, Chan’s arm, Chan’s stomach. Chan can’t help the low almost-growl that drags itself up his throat as Felix shakes, whimpering sweetly in Chan’s arms. 

“Good boy, baby,” Chan murmurs, head spinning from the way Felix sounded, the way he called him daddy. Coming out of any other mouth, it would’ve made Chan cringe, but somehow with Felix it makes his knees weak and his vision blur. “Made such a mess, you gonna clean it up?”

Felix doesn’t say anything, just bends over, still trembling, and presses his tongue to Chan’s abdomen, swiping at his own come until Chan is clean, even his arm and hand. He pulls off Chan’s fingers with a wet pop, blinking up at him.

“Still want me to fuck you?” Chan asks darkly, prying Felix away and tucking himself back into his pants.

“Yes,” Felix whispers, that same trained sultry look back in his eye. He recovers quickly, Chan thinks, almost exasperated.

“Get dressed, then,” Chan says. “If Maya asks, you invited me up to game.”

“Got it,” Felix says pertly, side-stepping Chan to retrieve his skirt, handing Chan his cap while he’s at it. 

Chan takes it, but doesn’t put it back on, instead doing his best to smooth his hair in the mirror, waiting while Felix tugs his t-shirt on, too.

“Zip me up?” Felix asks, and Chan is reminded exactly how he got here. It almost makes him laugh.

“Sure.” He pulls the zipper into place, bending to kiss the top of Felix’s spine when he’s done. “Ready?”

“Mm,” Felix says. “Let’s take the elevator, Maya probably won’t see us.”

He’s right. They get to the elevator without interruption and spend the ride from the basement to the fourth floor in complete silence. Chan had almost forgotten there was an elevator in the building, since most of his time was spent in the basement level or on the first floor. He’s pretty sure he’s never been in it. But it moves quickly, and soon Felix is leading them out and down a hall Chan has never stepped foot in. 

Felix’s room is like the rest of the house. It’s clean, proper, and stately. The only things that betray its inhabitant’s age are the figurines lining one of the bookshelves. Chan closes the door behind him, flicking the lock, and doesn’t have the chance to take in any more of his surroundings. Felix is on him in an instant, fingers at the waistband of his shorts again, needy and demanding. 

“C’mon,” he says, muffled by Chan’s skin. “You said you’d fuck me, so fuck me.”

Chan picks him up with ease, smiling to himself when Felix squeals his surprise, and walks them over to Felix’s bed. He deposits Felix in the sheets, hiking his shirt up and bending over him to suck a hickey into his inner thigh. 

“Chan,” Felix moans, sweet and low and perfect. “Daddy.” Chan bites, and Felix whines. “Oh, fuck, you’re so mean.” He’s breathless when he says it, delight pitching in his voice. His fingers find Chan’s hair, tangle in the curls. “Will you fuck me like that? Mean?”

Chan looks up, finds Felix’s glassy eyes. “Is that what you want, baby?” Felix nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Want me to treat you rough? Want me to pound your cute little ass into the mattress?” He doesn’t know how the words have snuck their way into his mouth—dirty and depraved. But it doesn’t matter, because Felix rolls his eyes back in his head, nodding emphatically. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please. It’s all I’ve wanted this whole time. ‘S why I’ve been so annoying.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Chan mutters, crawling up the bed so he can kiss him.

Felix wraps his little legs around Chan’s waist, kissing him hungrily, trying to pull Chan closer. “Chan,” he murmurs against Chan’s lips between kisses. “Daddy, need you, please.”

“Where’s your lube, baby?” Chan asks. “Condom, too.”

Felix rolls over with a groan, yanking open the drawer of his bedside table and rummaging around inside. Chan takes the opportunity to unzip Felix’s skirt again, though he doesn’t tug it down yet. It’ll be easier when Felix is on his back. 

Felix reemerges from the drawer with lube and a condom held victorious in a tight fist. He rolls back over, lifting his hips as he hands over the goods so he can tug his skirt off. Chan helps him, dropping it on the floor off the side of the bed. Next goes Felix’s shirt, shucked easily up over his head and leaving him in just his microscopic swim bottoms. 

Chan does the only logical thing. He bends down and undoes the bows on Felix’s hips with his teeth. Felix gasps softly; it turns into a breathy moan when Chan turns his head and kisses the tip of his cock.

He kind of wants to blow Felix, but Felix asked to be fucked, and Chan has basically accepted that he’s never going to tell Felix no ever again, so he sits back on his heels and pumps out some lube. 

“Showered earlier,” Felix supplies. “I’m all clean.”

Chan wasn’t gonna ask, honestly, was just gonna go for it, but he appreciates it. He raises his eyebrows as he reaches down to spread his cheeks. “You were that confident it would work?”

Felix shakes his head. He looks so little, drowning in the crumpled duvet. Chan thinks his mouth is watering. “I was hopeful,” he says. “I’ve done it every day, hoping.”

“Jesus, baby,” Chan mutters, easing his first finger in and rubbing something patternless into the skin over Felix’s hip bone when he whimpers. “Just for me?”

“Mm,” Felix confirms. “Knew you’d come around eventually. Just wasn’t sure when.”

Chan’s got his finger in up to the last knuckle already. “You’re kinda loose, baby. Did you prep yourself already?”

“A little,” Felix admits coyly. “But you’re bigger than I thought.” A soft giggle rises up. “You’ll have to go up to four fingers for sure. I only did three of mine, and mine are tiny.” He holds up his hand to show, as if Chan hadn’t already catalogued this fact on day one, and hadn’t been obsessing over it ever since. 

“Jesus,” Chan repeats. “You do that every day, too?” 

“Not every—every day.” Felix’s breath hitches when Chan’s second knuckle slips back out and catches on his rim. “Usually just one finger, maybe two.”

It’s still incredibly hot. “Sure you were doing it for me, or do you just like having your hole played with?” Chan pushes two fingers in this time. It’s still not much of a stretch. 

Felix moans, showy and sweet. “Both,” he says. “Your fingers feel better than mine, though.” Chan is working up a slow rhythm. “You get deeper. I bet your cock will feel best.”

“Have you been thinking about it?” Chan asks, curling his fingers a little, searching around for Felix’s prostate. “Imagining my cock?”

Felix’s eyelids flutter. “It’s almost all I think about when I’m with you,” he admits, low voice impossibly lower. “Oh, fuck!” He arches up off the bed. Chan’s found it. 

“Yeah?” Chan teases, hoping his voice comes out steady so Felix doesn’t have proof of just how much this is turning him on. “Right there?” He does it again, petting over the spot, and Felix twitches weakly, letting out another incoherent moan. 

“Mm, daddy, stop, hurts,” Felix whines with absolutely no conviction in his voice.

Still, Chan avoids it for the next couple thrusts. “Can’t take it?” he goads. “But what happens when it’s my cock? I’m gonna fill you up, baby, you’re so tight, I won’t be able to avoid it.”

“I’ll fall apart,” Felix says, though not piteously. It’s more a statement of fact. “I don’t wanna fall apart yet.”

That’s fair, Chan supposes. He doesn’t respond, just fits his ring finger in alongside the first two. He meets some resistance, but Chan has done a good job so far, and Felix opens easily, so it’s not long before he’s pumping three fingers in and out of Felix like it’s nothing. 

“Ch-Chan,” Felix stutters. “Hurry up, I can take it.”

Chan kisses the inside of his knee. “No, I don’t know how you’d explain the limp to your mother.”

“She wouldn’t know it’s you I’m fucking,” Felix points out.

“Still,” Chan says. 

“She already thinks I’m a whore, it doesn’t matter,” Felix mumbles, so swift and quiet Chan almost misses it. 

“What?” He pauses mid-stroke. 

“Nothing,” Felix says. “It doesn’t matter is all. I said hurry up.”

You’re fucking him, you’re not his psychiatrist, Chan thinks to himself as he resumes fingering him. It’s not your job to try and fix his life. Even if you could, he’d hate you for it. 

They brush past the moment quickly, drowning it with the wet noises from between Felix’s legs and Felix’s sweet moans. Chan murmurs praise as he adds in his pinky—doing so good, baby, almost there, look so pretty, so patient for me—and Felix responds beautifully, fucking himself back down on Chan’s fingers and twisting in the sheets. A fine layer of sweat has broken out across his skin, making him glisten in the early afternoon light. By the time Chan finally pulls away, satisfied that he won’t tear anything when he fucks him, Felix’s cock is already hard again, red and leaking against his stomach. 

Chan rolls the condom on, spreading a little more lube over the length, watching Felix catch his breath. “Ready?”

“Chan, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll never forgive you,” Felix replies, and Chan laughs. He realizes it’s the first time he’s laughed in a while, the misery from keeping his desire tamped down and hidden for weeks too heavy for joy. But now it doesn’t matter anymore, and he’s laughing again. He lines himself up with Felix’s puckered entrance, pink and red and perfect. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says, and pushes in. 

Felix is perfect. Chan knew this, but still—it was only imagination that had guided him all this time, because Chan’s never known anyone as perfect as this. The tight heat around him makes him shake. Felix’s eyes cross first, and then roll back completely as he lets out a moan when Chan finally bottoms out. Chan tips over Felix’s body, breathing out soft moans and pressing reverent kisses to his chest and stomach. 

“So full,” Felix rasps softly. His hands are in Chan’s hair again, combing it off his forehead. “Oh, fuck, Chan, feels so good.”

“Perfect, baby, you’re perfect,” Chan manages. He doesn’t know what else there is to say. “Take me so well, it’s like we were made for each other.”

Felix refocuses his eyes. Chan watches his slow blinking. “Could just stay like this,” he says. “Till my parents get home.”

This makes Chan’s dick twitch; Felix feels it and giggles. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Chan counters. “Mean.”

Felix sighs dramatically. “I want that, too.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Chan says, drawing his hips back and pushing in again. 

“Mm, or tonight,” Felix says. “After everyone’s gone to bed. You won’t be able to fuck me hard then ‘cause we’ll have to keep quiet. You could just put it in and we could cuddle like that.”

Chan groans, imagining it, their hushed voices in the dark, hoping no one hears them, biting back moans as Chan pushes in and fills Felix up. Huddling under the covers, chest to back, Chan’s arms wrapped around Felix’s lithe body. “Fuck, baby, you’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

Felix nods. “I want you,” he says plaintively, like that explains it. Maybe it does, except Chan’s been wanted before, and it wasn’t like this. This is something else, something deeper, more primal. He knows because he feels it in himself, too.

“What do you want, baby?” Chan asks. He wants to know the ways Felix has been picturing him, wants to know if it’s the same as the ways he’s been picturing Felix. He thinks he’ll agree to anything Felix asks. 

“I-I,” Felix stutters, hesitant, but Chan recognizes it as fake. The words are just waiting to trip off Felix’s tongue. “I want you to fuck me and make me come over and over,” he begins. “I want it rough and fast. I wanna come so hard I almost pass out.” He’s picking up steam, talking faster. “ I want it everywhere. I want you to fuck me in the shower and bend me over my desk and push me up against the mirror.” He’s panting now, but he keeps going. “I want to ride your thigh in the pool, I want to choke on your cock when you’re eating breakfast. I’ll come find you in the garden, too, and I won’t be wearing any panties so you can finger me under my skirt.” He gives Chan a wide-eyed, innocent look when he says it, but Chan sees the clear intent behind the facade. He’s trying to rile Chan up, but he’s also dead fucking serious. “I can take it anywhere, any time, I want it like that. Doesn’t matter if I’m busy or drunk or asleep, I like it. I’ll like it if it’s you.”

“Lix,” Chan groans. “That’s so dirty.”

“Want you to take advantage of me, daddy,” Felix pleads, blinking up at him, his beautiful eyes huge. “I’ll only wear my tiniest underwear from now on, and I’ll finger myself open every morning so it’s easy. I’ll carry condoms in my bra, so you’ll know where to find them. Will you do it?”

“All of it?” Chan licks kisses up Felix’s neck. “We’re gonna get caught, baby.”

“Only when it’s safe,” Felix amends. “Can’t have them taking you away from me, who’d fuck me then?”

“Okay, only when it’s safe,” Chan agrees, because of course he wants it, too.

“Good,” Felix says. “Now fuck me harder, I wanna feel it.”

A strange sort of noise rumbles out of Chan’s chest. It’s something close to displeasure, he’s pretty sure, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He pushes himself up off Felix’s body and grabs him by the backs of his knees. He pushes him down into the bed that way, folding him at the hips until Felix’s knees are almost at his ears. “So flexible, baby,” he murmurs. Felix lets out a satisfied sigh, which hiccups into a moan when Chan thrusts into him. His cock bobs in midair from the force of it, dripping precome on Felix’s chest. “That how you wanted it?” He adjusts to the new angle quickly, picking up the pace again.

Felix is breathless when he responds. “Yes, just like that, yes.”

Felix is spread so wide like this, his body curled over itself to accommodate Chan. Chan digs his fingers into the skin of Felix’s thighs, hard enough to bruise. Felix can always wear stockings to cover them up, and Chan has a feeling he’ll like having the reminder. He slams his hips forward, rough just like Felix asked, fast and ruthless. All Chan’s hours in the gym are finally paying off, and he forces down delirious laughter at the thought. 

“Look so pretty like this,” Chan grits out. “Should’ve kept your skirt on, babygirl, they always make your waist look so nice.” Felix lets out a whimper at the word babygirl, and Chan zeroes in on that immediately. “You like that? Babygirl?” Felix nods fiercely; Chan realizes tears have gathered in the corners of his eyes, his cute nose reddening. Chan leans close. It’s a little difficult, with all the body in the way, but he manages, kissing the hollow of Felix’s cheek, then trailing down to his jaw. “Why the tears?” he murmurs into Felix’s skin.

His voice vibrates in Chan’s skull. “Feels so good,” Felix replies. “Just—overwhelmed, can’t help it. Good tears, don’t fucking stop.”

Chan straightens again, satisfied that Felix is okay, so he doesn’t have to work so hard. “Okay, baby. You need me to stop, though, just say so.” He rocks his hips in deep, making the bed creak. It’s a good thing nobody’s home.

“I won’t ever tell you to stop,” Felix says, and it’s dreamy and almost vacant. He’s staring up at Chan, eyes a little unfocused. A tear rolls down his cheek, leaving a pale grey streak in his skin from his mascara. He snakes a hand between his torso and his thigh and wraps it around his cock, stroking slowly, almost absently. His eyes never leave Chan’s face, even when Chan thrusts hard and deep and makes him cry out. “D-daddy, hn, gonna make me—gonna make me come—ah, oh fuck.” The rest is unintelligible, staccato moans, and then Felix’s whole body convulses. He clenches down on Chan, making it almost impossible for him to move; his pretty face contorts into a twisted expression of bliss, and his legs tremble. He comes with a string of soft curses, so hard some of it shoots past his chest and hits his face, coating his lips and spattering across his cheeks, a few droplets even sticking in his eyelashes.

Felix releases his cock, which still dribbles out a few beads of come with Chan’s every thrust, arms going limp at his sides and head lolling back. 

“Fuck, Lix,” Chan grunts, movements shallow despite the urge to start pounding him again, kind of worried he’ll fall apart. “Sound so gorgeous when you come.”

Felix is slowly licking the come off his lips while he cleans his eyelashes with the hand he wasn’t using to touch himself, his chest heaving. “I wish,” he says softly, so faint Chan barely hears it, “that I was flexible enough to suck my own cock.”

Unbidden, the image of Felix curled tight over himself, his own cock stuffed in his mouth, hole gaping and spread, manifests in Chan’s mind. “Oh, god,” he gasps, and before he realizes it, he’s coming, too, buried deep inside Felix, knuckles white where he’s still holding his legs. 

Chan hangs his head, panting and disoriented, as he comes down. Presently, he unlocks his fingers and releases Felix’s legs; they slide down on either side of him, whispering soft against the duvet cover. He makes no move to pull out. He’s not sure he can move at all.

After a while, he looks up, and sees that Felix has managed to clean off his face. He shakes his head, groaning, and sits back on his heels, bending over Felix’s body, running his hands down his sides, and presses wordless kisses to his ribs and stomach, slow and lazy.

“Good?” Felix whispers.

Chan looks up at him. “So good,” he replies. “Better than I imagined. Not sure I should say that, since it’ll just encourage you, but it’s true.”

Felix giggles brightly. “I won’t be nearly so bad now that I know you’ll give me what I want,” he says, tipping his head to the side.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Chan replies, finally pulling out. He gingerly removes the condom and ties it off, crawling up the bed so he can reach the waste basket next to Felix’s bedside table. He grabs a tissue while he’s at it, and rolls onto his side, towards Felix. “C’mere,” he coaxes softly. “Let me clean you up.”

“Oh,” Felix says, like he’d forgotten entirely about the mess on his chest. He turns to Chan, reaching out and laying a hand on his bicep.

Chan swipes his drying come away, leaning it to kiss away the rest, tugging Felix close to him until they’re lying chest to chest, legs slotted together. He looks up. “All done,” he says softly.

Felix leans in and kisses his forehead. The gesture is oddly sweet. “You really went for it,” he says. “I was impressed. I thought you’d need more prodding.”

“You’ve been quite frustrating,” Chan points out, keeping any trace of venom out of his tone. He’s not angry about it anymore. “I guess that was all the prodding I needed.”

“Mm, I’ll keep it in mind,” Felix says.

“Please don’t,” Chan mutters, and Felix giggles again.

“Out of curiosity,” he says. “Which outfits did you like best?”

“What?”

“What do you like to see me in?” Felix asks evenly. “It’s just you around. I can dress just for you.”

“Oh,” Chan says weakly. “I like the short skirts. And the stockings. You have—” He shifts his hand lower and squeezes. “—the best thighs ever, I like when you show them off.” Felix hums, clearly pleased. “But seriously, you could wear anything, and I’d want to fuck you. So don’t worry about me.”

Felix laughs again, full-bellied and mischievous. “Oh, Chan,” he sighs. “And here I thought my Christmas break was going to be boring.”

[heaven-s-black-box]

The Nutcracker- Childe x gn!Reader

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Recovery date: December 24th, 2023

Description: Ajax returns home for Christmas and gifts a nutcracker to Teucer. After a scuffle with Anton it's broken, and when he goes to fix it late at night he finds himself drawn into a war with... mice?

Notes: Warning for Childe typical violence. Gn reader, they/them pronouns and no body descriptions, because everyone deserves to be the nutcracker! Also, according to google Princen is a gender neutral term for Prince/Princess. Merry Christmas if you celebrate, and if not, happy holidays!

Word count: 1 120

Back to directory

Ajax loves christmas. Not because he gets the day off, or because of the food, but because he gets to watch his siblings' faces light up as they open their presents. It’s a whole affair, where everyone goes to his parents place for dinner and presents, and Teucer will be standing at the door to count everyone as they arrive because he just can’t wait. Tonia and Anton will be in the kitchen helping their mother, and his older siblings will be sitting in the living room with their father to catch up. He’ll arrive with a bag of gifts for everyone, and Teucer will tail him to the tree where he’ll stack them before joining the adults in the living room.

After dinner, which Tucer nearly chokes on as he rushes to finish it, they sit around the tree and open presents.

“Be careful,” his mother scolds as Teucer begins tearing into the wrapping paper. “It could be fragile.”

The others all watch patiently as Teucer sets the unwrapped box on the floor, and carefully shimmies the lid off to reveal packing paper. His excited smile drops into a small frown as he looks up at Ajax, head tilted in confusion. Ajax can see his older siblings stifling laughs in the corner of his eye, while his father sighs and his mother gently smacks her forehead.

“Paper?”

“It’s wrapped in paper, silly,” Anton sighs, reaching over and pulling back some of the stiff white wrapping.

“Oh!” Teucer’s smile quickly returns as he pulls the paper out of the box.

“It’s fragile!”

“Sorry.”

Teucer stops his rabid tearing, though he’s already revealed the black top of whatever it was. He carefully removed the rest of the wrapping, cradling the gift in his arms so it didn’t fall.

“What is it?”

“Cool!” Anton cheered, grabbing the gift from Teucer.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Anton, give it back!”

“But I want a toy soldier like this.”

Teucer grabbed hold of the soldiers head and began pulling it back towards him.

“Well-” A yank, “this one-” another yank, “is mine!”

Before any of the adults could step in, Teucer fell back holding only the top half of the soldier's head while Anton kept the rest of him.

“Anton!” His father scolded as his mother sank to the floor to check on Teucer.

Uninjured, Teucer began to cry– sobbing about his broken gift.

“Teucer,” Ajax sighed, “bring it here, I’ll fix it.”

Anton, with an apologetic look on his face, handed the body over to Teucer who passed both parts up to Ajax. He looked at it for a moment, inspecting where it’d come apart, before nodding to himself.

“I’ll fix it tonight, and then show you what it does in the morning.”

“What it does?”

“Yup,” he laughed, “it’s a nutcracker.”

---

As punishment for breaking Teucer’s nutcracker, Anton had to wait for the next day to open his present– which was a set of toy soldiers that Ajax was sure he would’ve loved to play with tonight. So after everyone else opened their gifts, the youngest three had been ushered off to bed and the adults– worn from travel, cooking, and Teucer’s excitement– followed suit.

It was only after he’d changed into his sleepwear that Ajax returned to the living room to fix the nutcracker. He yawns, rubbing his eyes, as the clock strikes midnight and he enters the room.

Something brushes past his foot and he jumps, turning round just in time to see a mouse scurry into a hole in the wall. He doesn’t remember that hole being there earlier, so he kneels down to investigate. As soon as he peers into the hole, a cacophony of squeaks seems to fill the room, and a swarm of mice rush in.

Startled, he backs away. A creaking and cracking sound makes him turn around to find the already large christmas tree seemingly growing in height as the ceiling looks to grow with it.

He’s not sure what comes over him, why his guard is so let down, but it startles him and he stumbles back only to bump into something.

He steps forward and whips around, fists drawn to fight the intruder, only finding a life sized version of the once broken nutcracker.

“What the- ah!” He yelps as the nutcracker moves, pushing him behind them and pointing their sword at the now life sized mice. 

In a brief moment of clarity from this fever dream he’s found himself in, he considers that maybe he’s been shrunk, but it’s unimportant as a mouse with seven heads– each adorned in a crown– approaches.

There’s a dull thumping sound as the box with Anton’s gift shakes, then the wrapping tears and the lid of the box is knocked off allowing ten toy soldiers to emerge. Ajax finds himself sidelined in the ensuing battle, running from the mice that chose to target him. The gingerbread his older brother had brought descended from the end table to join the fight, while the doll he had given Tonia scurried about to help the wounded.

It’s during this fight, as he weaves between mice, gingerbread men, and soldiers, that he notices the nutcracker’s movements are sluggish. Their balance was off, they seemed to double step alot and didn’t notice opponents until they were right in front of them. 

As he watched them take on two mice along, Ajax noticed the rat king sneaking up on them. His sword was raised to take them out, and Ajax found himself finally able to move as he wanted.

He tackled the rat king, knocking him to the ground and startling the nutcracker into turning around.

“Watch you back!”

The nutcracker turned just in time to block another swipe from a mouse. Ajax raised his fist back and landed a solid punch to the center mouse head, then another, then, another, and another, and another until it was questionable if the head had ever looked like the other six in the first place.

He’d become so engrossed that he missed the way the fighting around him stopped. His violent assault was only stopped when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder.

Looking back, he found the nutcracker standing over him, and he looked around, finding all eyes on him. He lowered his fist as he looked back at the nutcracker who had extended a hand for him to take.

His blood soaked hand stained the pristine white glove as he took their hand and used to leverage to stand up. The mice carefully approached, taking their king away, and leaving Ajax alone with the nutcracker as everything else returned to their original places.

“What is going on?”

The nutcracker let go of his hand and stepped back. In a swirl of snowflakes and blue light, Ajax found the nutcracker to be replaced by a Princen in a puffy white shirt and black slacks. They smiled and waved for him to follow, then began to make their way to the base of the christmas tree where he noticed rows of other trees had now appeared.

“Hey!” He called after them. “You didn’t answer my question!”

The Princen stopped, turning back to him, and waving for him to follow once more.

Seeing no other option, he jogged after them into the snowy pine forest.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Mattress Room

Prompt: I- hello? I come from Ao3 and it appears that you take requests/prompts? At least I didn't see anything indicating you weren't... Could you write some more Logan hurt/comfort? Maybe he's been getting better about not overworking himself, but maybe something is happening in Thomas' life (I know the winter holidays get really busy for me) and there's so much to do and he must finish it RIGHT NOW- and he just doesn't come out to do basic self-care for like a week. So naturally the others come to check on him (maybe returning to Remus hearing Logan's brain telling him to perform basic functions ("Why the f*ck are Lolo's intrusive thoughts telling him to eat?") necessary for survival?), and they all cat-pile. I've looked through like every Logan hurt/comfort on Ao3 and I'm somewhat addicted. Plus this would be a nice reminder that recovery's not linear, and even though things are getting better that still doesn't mean you're not still healing. You can just ignore this if you aren't taking requests, thanks anyways. Bye!

-Raven

Read on Ao3

Warnings: intrusive thoughts

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3088

Surely, it has not escaped notice that the Sides, specifically Roman and Remus, have a habit of summoning mattresses seemingly out of nowhere. Where do they come from? Are they spontaneously generated? Or is there some hidden place where mattresses exist in an aether, only to appear in physical form once summoned?

An overworked Logan is the key to revealing this answer once and for all.

There’s a video script that needs to be edited so Roman can get onto redrafting before the deadline. There are applications that need to be filled out for insurance as the premiums have been redefined for this cycle and he needs to ensure Thomas won’t be overpaying. Gift lists and schedules have to be organized before the party this weekend. Second installment tax bills have been delayed so the payments have to be reallocated. 

The pile on Logan’s desk does not seem to decrease so much as shift around. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, quickly calculating the runoff from last year’s gift budget, before scribbling down a figure and setting the piece of paper aside. There are too many gift ideas, he’ll have to go through them with Roman to ensure they’re actually getting people what they want. Which means he needs to schedule another meeting with Roman. 

He glances over at his wall where the large calendar is. Most of the days have his tasks in neat, dark blue bullet points. A few have red bullet points as well—things that Roman has scheduled that he can’t infringe on—and there is one purple day every week for his check-in with Virgil. His eyes land on this weekend where the words ‘Holiday Party’ are written in black. 

Right next to a green blob that’s suddenly appeared out of nowhere. 

Remus. 

Logan muffles a curse and gets up, taking the cloth from where it’s magnetically stuck to the side of the board and wiping it away. It must’ve happened when Remus was here yesterday and they were coming up with new merchandise ideas. He asked Remus to be careful with the markers but accidents will happen. 

He frowns when no matter how hard he scrubs at the mark, it won’t come out. 

Did Remus bring another marker to this? Is that why this is hard? Or is there a prank war going on right now that he neglected to find out? He told them that he prefers to be left out of those, and even when he participates they should know his room is off-limits. There are too many things in there that would take a bit of good-spirited fun to actual feelings being hurt and he can’t have that, not when there are so many deadlines. 

Why isn’t this stain coming out?

Glancing around, he spots the bottle of cleaner and sprays it on the rag, careful to hold it away to avoid hitting the board by accident. He returns to scrubbing at the mark but no matter what he does, it doesn’t want to budge. 

Logan narrows his eyes and grabs his own blue marker. He draws a quick line in the corner and tries to wipe it off. It comes away without a trace. He goes back to trying to scrub at the green marker and barely stifles a growl when it won’t budge. 

The marker itself lies innocently in the tray with the rest of them. 

Maybe Remus accidentally replaced it with a permanent marker. He snatches it up, examining it, only to discover that no, it’s the same marker he’s always used. He does the same test, drawing a tiny experimental line on an out-of-the-way corner and wiping it off with the rag. 

It comes away clean. 

So then why is this massive green blob in the middle of his calendar refusing to go away?

He resists the urge to thunk his head against the wall, but only just barely.

“I don’t have time for this,” he mutters, turning away, trying to sit back down at his desk and get on with his work. 

But every time he looks up, he sees that stupid green blob out of the corner of his eye and it’s like an—

Well, it’s like an intrusive thought. How appropriate. No matter how hard he tries to force it from his mind—well, of course it doesn’t work. That’s not how you deal with intrusive thoughts. He would be better off just passively noticing it and not allowing it to interfere with what he’s doing. 

But he keeps seeing it. 

Over, and over, and over. 

As a true last resort, he turns his back on his calendar, putting his head down and propping his hand against his cheek, preventing him from turning any more to see it, glaring at the shopping list as though if he tried hard enough, the list would write itself. 

They need to go to multiple stores tomorrow. They need things from the normal grocery but they also need to stop at the other one that has a better pharmacy and they also need to go to the more expensive store because that’s the one that sells the good cheeses. 

When was the last time he ate something?

He shakes his head to clear it. Alright, so that’s that sorted, finally. That’s a task he can cross off his list and set aside. The next thing to worry about is holiday travel plans. A few of Thomas’s friends are leaving town to go and visit their families but they’ve also asked for a get-together beforehand. If they go by everyone’s most recent schedules, the Thursday evening after next would be the best time for everyone to gather, even if it’s only for a few hours. Odds are they won’t be staying out very late—or staying over very long—since there is another weekday but it ensures no one will have to wake up early to catch a fight. 

When was the last time he slept?

He needs to stop getting distracted. They’re a little bit behind schedule on video production. Of course, a lot of the longer projects are already underway and there’s not much they can do on those until after the holidays, but a few smaller ones have stagnated. Perhaps he can talk to Roman about those too, of course it’s natural for there to be a bit of a lull around the holidays when everything else is so busy but a progress report couldn’t hurt, right? Just in case it starts becoming a source of stress for Virgil because they haven’t touched the idea in so long. 

He startles when there’s a knock on his door. 

“One moment, please.”

Setting the notebooks and pen aside in any place they aren’t in immediate danger of falling off, he stands and adjusts his tie, making his way to the door. Opening it with an apology that he really can’t be disturbed right now, he fumbles when it isn’t who he expects to see. 

“Remus?”

“Hey, Lolo.” Remus waves. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” he’s saying before he realizes, standing aside, “come—come in.”

Remus walks in, hands shoved in his pockets—wait, Remus doesn’t normally have pockets like that—and glancing at Logan’s overflowing desk. “You look busy.”

“I am, in fact, quite busy, yes.” He shuffles a bit as he closes the door. “You know how the holidays are.”

“Mhm.”

He opens his mouth to ask Remus what he’s here for when he notices Remus looking at his calendar. Remus raises a finger and touches the green blob that started this whole mess, before looking over his shoulder. 

His shoulder that is absent of any green or black sparkly fabric. 

Ah. 

Well. 

“Um,” Logan stammers, “oops?”

Remus huffs a laugh and comes to stand in front of him, hands still tucked into his pockets. “Yeah, Lolo, ‘oops.’ Be glad it was me that came and not Janny.”

“I really didn’t mean to, you have my word, I simply—“

“Hey, hey.” His hands come up to rest on his shoulders. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just—you know how Janny can be about making you admit you’re not okay.”

Logan scoffs. “Yes, I am quite familiar with Janus’s technique for such a thing.”

Honestly, thank goodness it wasn’t Janus. That sounds horrible but the last thing Logan needs right now is someone to rile him up more. It’s liable to make him say things he doesn’t mean simply because he’ll get angry at Janus and want to hurt him—not like that, but he’ll be angry and he’s no good angry, he just needs to—

“Lolo, stay with me.”

He blinks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Remus squeezes his shoulders. “You wanna talk about it or do I have to sit on you?”

“…’sit’ on me?”

“You’re working too much and you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“And?”

Remus gives him a look. “And if I need to sit on you to physically prevent you from working, then I’m gonna do that.”

“Ah. I see.”

Remus nods, steering him over to the bed, away from his desk. “So talk to me, Lolo. What’s going on?”

Logan flaps a hand vaguely in the direction of the desk. “We have things to do.”

“Uh-huh. We have things to do. So why’re you trying to do them all yourself?”

“Because every time Janus tries to help with taxes it comes down to ‘eat the rich.’”

“Do you blame him?”

“No, but I’d like to not get arrested for felony tax evasion or attempted assault.”

“As much fun as that would be—“

“No, Remus.”

“—that doesn’t explain everything.” Remus gives him a look. “I saw Roro’s handwriting on some of that, you know we’re taking a break from videos right now. We’ve got all the other ones coming up, we don’t need to do more right now.”

“But there are all the other ideas for the interim!”

“Yes, and they are ideas. You and Roro have met about them and we all agreed that we wouldn’t do anything.” Remus puts a hand on his leg to preempt him getting up. “You need to stop, Logan. You’re working yourself too hard.”

“But—“

Remus raises an eyebrow when he can’t continue. “But what?”

Logan looks away, guilt and shame forming a solid lump in his throat. Unexpected tears begin welling in his eyes and he curls his hands into fists. 

A sigh comes from next to him and a hand gently cups his face, turning him back to Remus.

“But what, Lolo?”

“…it’s hard,” he mumbles, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Remus’s face. 

“Oh, Lolo, I know it’s hard. It’s always gonna be hard, it’s okay.”

“But I don’t want it to be hard,” he spits, even as Remus tuts and pulls him a bit closer, “I want it to stop.”

“That’s not how it works, Lolo, you know that.”

“But I’ve been better! I—I haven’t done anything in months. I’ve been eating, I’ve been sleeping, I’ve been spending time with you—well, less time lately—but that’s how holidays always are!”

“That’s enough,” Remus says sharply when Logan goes to pull away from him, “you know healing isn’t linear. You do, don’t look at me like that. It’s messy and it’s a pain in the ass but you gotta do it.”

“I know that but I don’t have to like it.”

“No one’s saying you gotta. Oh, hey…”

Because apparently, Logan no longer gets to decide when it’s an appropriate time to cry and Remus is reaching out to coax him into a hug because Remus is wearing soft things because he knew this was going to happen and—and—

“Did—did you do something to my—my calendar?”

Remus glances over and shakes his head. “No, Lolo. I didn’t do anything.”

“But why—why—“ Remus just gives him a look. “…oh.”

“C’mere, Loganberry, I think you’ve done enough thinking for one day.”

Logan closes his eyes and accepts his fate, leaning into Remus’s chest as his hands card through his hair. He fumbles to take his glasses off and shove them in his pocket before slumping bonelessly into the hug. 

“Hey,” Remus murmurs after a moment, “you wanna lie down? You want the others? What can I do?”

“…the others won’t be mad, right?”

“No, Loganberry, they won’t. Roro or I can grab one of those big mattresses too if you want.”

He sniffles, wiping his nose with the handkerchief from his pocket. It would be nice to see everyone…he really hasn’t seen them in a while. He has been working too hard. But that does remind him of something. 

“Do you…make new ones each time? Is it the same one? Where do you get them?”

Remus’s hand stills on his head. “You guys don’t know about the mattress room?”

“The what?”

Remus mutters something like no wonder you guys are so moody before he’s pushing Logan to sit up. “Can I summon Ro? Just real quick?”

Logan nods, slightly confused, and Remus reaches out and pulls Roman into the room. 

“Re? What’s going on, I—“ 

It would almost be funny how quickly Roman goes from slightly confused to openly concerned, shoulders dropping to make himself seem smaller, if it didn’t make Logan want to cry all over again. 

“Sweetheart?” He takes a careful step closer. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

Thankfully—because all of his speaking capabilities seem to have evaporated—Remus pats his back and looks up. “Logan doesn’t know about the mattress room.”

“Oh, I see.” Roman crouches down, reaching out to take Logan’s hands. “You wanna come with us?”

“Mhm.”

“Come here, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Logan raises his arms to let Roman wrap him up, coaxing him to his feet. “We’re going to sink now, okay? You just hold on…”

A brief pause later and Logan’s feet rest on something that is far squishier than his floor. 

“Easy, easy, sweetheart, I gotcha.” Roman holds him steady when he wobbles. “You’re just standing on a mattress, that’s all.”

With Roman propping him up, Logan manages to look around, squinting a little for lack of glasses only for his eyes to widen at where they are. 

‘The Mattress Room’ is the most fitting name it could be given. It’s just a massive room, almost larger than Thomas’s entire apartment, and the floor is just a giant mattress. There are smaller mattresses along the side almost like the lip of a hot tub only they’re mattresses, with firmer pillows and blankets strews about. There are comforters, weighted blankets, thin blankets, sheets, everything. Along one side is a window that looks out over a dusk sky, rich blues and purples with a thin stripe of pink at the very horizon. 

“Hey,” Roman calls gently, getting Logan’s attention again, “you okay? Is this alright?”

“’S safe,” Logan babbles, “’s—’s real safe.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s safe. C’mere, come sit down—there.” Roman eases them to the ground, pulling Logan almost into his lap. “You wanna get a bit closer to the window or are you okay here?”

“‘M good.”

“Okay, sweetheart, okay.”

Remus crouches next to them. “You still want the others, Lolo?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go get them. You and Ro just stay here and get comfy, okay?”

Get comfy. He can do that. 

Remus sinks out, leaving them alone in the ocean of mattress. Roman’s hand cards through his hair and gives him a little shake. 

“Poof yourself into something more comfortable, darling, you’ll feel better.”

Logan grumbles but does, his tie vanishing as Roman snaps himself into a red T-shirt and sleep shorts. He grumbles again when he realizes Roman was right, this is more comfortable, but he’s not gonna say that. 

Roman just chuckles and pulls him closer, lying down with Logan’s head on his chest. “There. This alright?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

It’s warm here, he realizes distantly when he wonders why he’s able to relax so quickly, like the bed’s been sitting in the sun all day. Well, he supposes it kind of has. He snuggles into Roman’s chest, making him laugh. 

“You need some more stimulation there?”

“Mhm.”

“Coming right up.” The arm around his waist tightens and Roman rolls them over, smiling down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Squished.” He reaches up and tugs Roman down until all his weight is on him, muffled laughter coming from his shoulder. “Mm.”

“Whoa, Remus, you fuckers have been holding out on us.”

“Language, but…yes.”

“How dare you keep optimal sunbathing spots from me? I thought we were friends!”

“The others are here,” Roman murmurs in his ear, “you want to talk to them or just cuddle?”

In response, he tightens his grip. 

“Cuddles it is.”

“Logan?” Janus’s voice comes from next to them, a gloved hand stroking the parts of his shoulder it can reach. “Sweetie? You alright under there?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you been working too hard again?”

“…maybe.”

Janus chuckles and ruffles his hair. “Get some rest, I don’t think Roman’s letting you up anytime soon.”

Roman makes a show of getting comfortable. “Nope.”

“Wait, so this is where all the mattresses come from?”

“Eh, we just take bits and pieces from the big one.”

“That’s so cool, kiddo!”

“So how long have you had a premium sunbathing spot and neglected to tell me?”

“Thought you knew about it, Snakey. You’re always sticking your peepers into what goes on in the Imagination when I’m busy.”

“First off, never call them ‘peepers’ ever again—“

“Nah, nah, Remus said ‘peepers,’ that’s what they’re called now, J.”

“They are not!”

Logan can’t help smiling at the banter, making Roman smile too. 

“It’s gonna be okay, darling,” he murmurs, “you just close your eyes and rest. We’ll be here.”

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[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (04x01)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 4 Episode 01: The Unexpected

SEASON Premiere

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: weird happenings

Word Count: I apparently suffered from Dengue and was in recovery when I was told to complete my mandatory holidays. And the thought of holidays made me want to write some. So here we are...thanks to a fucking mosquito I guess.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

A camera moved about the lounge to show an addition of big plants in all the corners, clearly adding a splash of green to the enormous room. The clock on the kitchenette wall read nine in the morning. A very zen Scott was seen making omelette and ham toast in the pan, going generous on the cheese slices in the middle.  A tune was stuck on his lips while he moved about the space quite smoothly. "Oooh! I smell something...not burnt!" Sam entered the lounge clearly after his workout.  His hands were about to dig into one prepared french toast when Scott slid that plate aside for him to present his guest with a bowl of fruits, nuts with a side of yoghurt.  Wanda entered the lounge from the dorms, greeting Sam and Scott.  "Oh! It's Scott's day to make breakfast! I love Scott days!" "Who doesn't?" Scott flipped her imaginary hair out of his face and proceeded to give his favourite witch a tall glass of berry smoothy along with pancakes. 

Sam: This is the best feeling in the world. My bowl full of the juiciest fruits, the thickest yoghurt I can ask for, and the best sound in the world. *camera zooms in on his face* silence. 

The smartwatch on Scott's wrist chimed. "Oh! it's nine-fifteen. Little bear is up and ready to go." And just as he announced those words, you came out of your room in your straight jeans, a blue tank top covered with a blue jacket. Your bag was barely hanging on one shoulder as you jogged your way towards the kitchenette.  "Good morning!" you greeted as you skidded to a halt at the kitchen island, right as Scott pushed your french toast and freshly squeezed orange juice in front of you. "Oh! It's Scott Day!" Taking your first bite of the toast, you hummed a tone of satisfaction at the crunch and melting cheese inside.  "Don't forget your lunch, bear. I made some rice balls and potato cutlets." "You're the best, grandma!" you gave Scott a thumbs up. Scott planted a peck on your forehead and put the lunch box in your bag. "I've put in extra for America as well." Steve and Bucky entered the space all hot and flushed after their workout, greeting you.  Scott was already bringing out their post-workout protein mix from the mixer into two tall glasses as they wiped off their sweat with towels.  Murmurs of "I love Scott days," went around again. "Did you sleep well last night?" Steve asked you.  The cameras around the lounge captured the morning murmurs dying down a little as Wanda eyed Steve and everyone cautiously looked at you for something out of the ordinary. You nodded and shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."  All the tensed shoulders loosened themselves while Bucky lightly slapped Steve on the back of his head before giving him the gaze. "Although-" all the loosened shoulders tensed back up, waiting for you to finish chewing and complete the sentence -"I think I had a weird dream last night. Wanda was sitting at the edge of my bed trying to catch something in the air. And there was a weird dog sitting by my side. Weird, no?" Everyone hummed in agreement with the same air of nonchalant all at once. "I heard someone's finally taking their car to college?" Scott broke the awkward atmosphere. He picked up the car keys to the Toyota RAV4 and dangled it excitedly in front of you. The camera caught the excitement bubbling on your face as you did your own little dance. 

You: I finally learned how to drive! And I am really excited to take my new car out to college! *jump with elation in your seat* *finally settle and sigh* Though I am surprised dad didn't make me drive his Audi to college. The one that I have scratched beyond recognition while learning to parallel park. *nervous laughter*

"Do you want me to take it out of the garage for you?" Sam called from behind you. "No, I learned the hard parts last week. See ya guys!" The elevator dinged to announce your departure to the ground floor. It was also the signal for every breathing person in the lounge to give Steve Rogers the cold stare. "Are you out of your f****ng mind?" Scott gritted through his teeth while Sam raised his hands in the air. "I'm sorry-" Steve breathed out in defeat- "it was a usual question. It just came out of me!" "That usual question almost cost us a night, Steve." Wanda groaned. "We really need to get it together before the dads come home."

Wanda: *takes in a deep breath* It's been three weeks since y/n, Loki and Javier returned from their 'universal travels'. They had been tested for foreign matters and diseases but everything was fine. *nods before gulping* *whispers* till the third night of their return.

The camera cuts to a feed of the lounge at two fifteen at night. Scott and Peter are sleeping on the sofa while watching the reruns of Lulu. A figure- almost eerie- walks from the dorms towards the lounge and comes to a halt right where the boys sleep. The figure is dressed in a familiar grey tee and black shorts and has dark vapours emanating from around them. The figure bends towards the boys a little before letting out a blood-curdling scream that resonates through three dimensions at once. Scott is the first to wake up and scream back at the figure, throwing his custom-made Lulu fluffy toy at the shadow before running towards the kitchenette, grabbing a jug of water to splash the contents on the haunting presence. Scott catches his breath within the pause he takes to look closely at the figure that has not moved. "Y/N? Is that you?" His voice crackles through the recording. In response, the dark figure raises her hands to see the water drip from her head to toe, leading to another blood-curdling scream. Within seconds, Wanda was teleporting out of her room while Bucky was trying to hold you back from gnawing at Scott's skin. And Peter is drooling in his sleep throughout the scenario.

Wanda: Turns out she did contract something in space. It was a night walk terror. And she does not seem to remember about it. Tony and Bruce don't know about it. *clears throat* mostly because they are out at a conference. And Clint is on vacation with his family. So Loki and I have been trying to figure out a way to get that interdimensional being out of her before the adults come home. *nods* *pouts*  *shrugs* on the other hand...

cuts to the Avengers facility feed showing trespassers trying to find their way through the facility doors and halls only to be spooked to the point of heart attack by your figure appearing out of nowhere in the dark.

University Grounds "All I'm saying, Javier, is it's weird that no matter how much I sleep I just cannot seem to get enough of it." The camera focused on you getting out of the car. Javier let his device take in the beautiful red colour of the SUV before focusing on the big yawn breaking on your face.

Javier signed something from behind the camera while you tried to take out your bag and laptop from the backseat. “Oh. I’ve got a lecture on social psychology today followed by this one session on neuropsychology my professor has allowed me to come observe. So, we should be done in four hours." The camera caught your genuine smile right before a familiar voice called out your name and made your smile crumble within seconds. "What classes do you have today, Y/N," the very punchable face of David, the assistant professor came and gave a wink to the camera recording you.  "None of yours, David," you declared in a monotone before walking towards the campus building, taking Javier with you by his arm.

You: you guys remember David *tired expression* the bane of my existence *groan* the reason I sometimes loathe coming to school  This dude has either developed a weird obsession with my presence on campus or he just knows how annoying he can be when he breathes in my direction *camera pans out to zoom in on David in the background walking towards you* 

David: Hey Y/N’s sponsor weirdo *waves at the camera before putting his arm around your shoulders* She has had enough days for spring break. It’s time for her to take her studies seriously now. Don’t worry *finger guns* she’s in good hands here. I’ll make sure she passes all her subjects. *walks away but not before patting you on the back*

You: *simmering* *camera pans in on your deadly expression* I would rather *camera zooms further* eat coal. 

  The Lounge The camera took in the ‘Kiss the chef’ apron before Scott removed it and carefully folded it to be kept aside. “Oh! Here comes the big bear!” The camera swerved around to capture Loki walking into the room from the dorms.  His hair was a mess, his eyes had bags underneath them and his face seemed like he had not shaved in a day. There was a scruffy beard growing on his face that he apparently had no botheration scratching. Taking a seat by the kitchen island, the God gulped down a 2-litre bottle of water within ten seconds. The toaster dinged and Scott brought the freshly toasted bread along with jam and clotted cheese towards Loki.  “Any leads on Y/N’s po-“ Sam was cut short by Scott’s hand signalling him to stop as the two Avengers watched Loki inhale the toast within a single breath before gulping down on the fresh orange juice from the familiar Brooklyn Nine-Nine mug.  Scott shared a look with the camera while Loki wiped his hand with a kitchen towel and turned to Sam.  “You said something?” “He said you should take a shower and maybe shave,” Scott blurted out before Sam could get a word in. “No-“ Loki shook his head- “it was something about Y/N.”  Scott closed his eyes and sighed. Sam shrugged and looked at the camera.

Scott: *sits and stares at Sam with daggers in his eyes* Sam: *exasperated* how is it my fault if the man prioritises a girl over his hygiene?! Scott: *muted gasp* Okay, first of all, he is alive in this facility because he prioritised that girl over his hygiene for what felt like a year and *whips his index finger out into Sam's face* Secondly, you better learn about that kinda priority if you don't want to die single.  Sam: *grinds his teeth* *stares at the camera* I got rejected by a Tinder date one time Scott. ONE TIME!!!

"Loki, how about you go shave first," Scott patted him on the back and signalled him to return to the dorms for his own well-being. "Where's Y/N?" Scott shared an 'I told you so' emotion with Sam. The latter shrugged aggressively, still not believing it to be his fault. "She's gone to college," Wanda finally answered. She was sitting on the sofa with her cell phone in her hand. "I just texted Javier. She's attending her Social Psychology lecture right now." Loki nodded. "Keep me posted." He got up and went to the dorms. "Use my aftershave if you want," Sam yelled behind him before turning to the camera, "it's got a nice odour." "Why are you texting Javi?" Scott came out from behind the kitchen counter and did a few stretches. "Can't you read Y/N's brain signals or something?" Wanda raised her good brow at Scott. "Well, excuse me for trying to live a cell phone life!" Scott nodded slowly before narrowing his eyes at the strongest witch on this planet. "Riiiiiiiight." He stared at Wanda for a few more moments, making the witch shift where she sat. "Her brain's a mess, isn't it?" he finally added, earning a groan from her. "It keeps on going non-stop!" The camera recorded the weariness along with the fear reflecting in Wanda's eyes. "It just doesn't shut up!" With a sigh and a few soft pats on Wanda's head, Scott went back to the kitchenette. "Let me make you some tea."

  University Campus "For a moment I thought I would not see you again." You and the camera both turned around at the voice. Your face gave a genuine smile for the first time since landing on the campus.  "Yusuf! How are you?!" You gave Yusuf a hug while the six-foot-tall man patted your head and reciprocated that smile. "I had to...I was-I had to go on an unplanned emergency trip...abroad-" you shared a look with the camera before going back to Yusuf.  "Everything okay?" "Oh, yes. Just that a family member was in desperate need of some help." You almost bit your lip at the sentence. "How's your thesis coming along?" Yusuf's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh, Y/N. It is coming out freaking amazing and it is all thanks to you and your friend." Your brows crinkled but your smile didn't falter just yet. "My friend?" "Yes. Your friend, Scott Longinus, was a huge help. He shared some older theses with me and some fresh papers that were never published here in the States. I am almost on the verge of finishing the first phase and then diving into the editing part." You nodded. "Scott Longinus," you muttered to yourself, staring at an invisible void for a few seconds before a smile crept on your lips. Wrapping your arm around Yusuf's you started walking towards the observation wing of the neurology lab. "Yusuf, darling, tell me more about what all Scott Longinus has discussed with you and spare no details."

  The Facility's Library The camera sat by a table next to Wanda, Loki and Steve. The walls could be seen lit up with Friday's scans as she tried her bit to help the Avengers with whatever information they needed. "Did Strange call?" Loki hummed out of nowhere. The camera panned on his grim expression, his eyes stuck on the old pages in front of him while his right hand glimmered in rays of green and golden, his thumb, index and the second finger leading some magical scans of their own. "Hm?" Wanda broke out from a trance but did not look up. "He is on call-" she pointed half-dazed at the phone sitting in the middle of the table- "still searching his library at Kamar Taj." Sam entered, sucking on a lollipop while moving through the pages of a relatively lighter book in his hands. A questioning hum reverberated through his throat before the lollipop came out of his mouth. "Are we sure we are looking at the right angle?" "What do you mean?" both the God and the Witch asked, without looking up from the pages in front of them. "We are working through these on the lines that Y/N is being possessed by a multi-dimensional being who is using her to hop through dimensions and hence to enter the earth. Using her like a portal of sorts. But what if she is the one instigating these jumps?" Steve turned to the magic users next to him, who finally glanced up from their books and then shared a look with each other. "What did Scott feed him today?" Loki whispered to Steve, who genuinely tried to remember what was on Sam's breakfast menu. "Some goddamn edible food," Sam announced, looking up at the camera.

Sam: Ever since this Y/N possession incident, we have been avoiding calling the cooking and cleaning staff to the facility to prevent the word from getting out. So we have been taking turns making meals and doing the laundry. So, take my word when I tell you the day Scott cooks, I'm gonna eat like a fucking horse. *nods aggressively* because he is the only one who makes anything close to edible food in this place. *another voice comes from outside the camera* But you told me you loved my clam chowder Sam: *shrieks and jumps in his seat* *camera pans out to show Natasha standing by the door with a judgmental look* Sam: *clears his throat* *adjusts himself in his seat* The chowder was amazing! *looks at the camera and then back at the Black Widow* And even Scott can't make anything so delicious *laughs weakly*

Natasha: The chowder sucked. These peeps were either running to the toilet with the chowder bowls or running to the toilet to *smirks* release the bowls *giggles while showing her teeth* I just wanted to watch them squirm *camera zooms in on her face* and never ask me to make meals for them...ever again.

"So, you are saying that Y/N is...jumping to some other plane of existence and wherever she is jumping, whoever is out there is..." "Scared, probably?" Sam shrugged. "That would explain why whatever possessed her did not attack Scott," Wanda added, earning a nod from Loki. "Oh, God-" Wanda rubbed her face at the onset of certain realisation, "she's sleep-jumping. Whenever she falls asleep, her conscious guards are down. So her subconscious is repeatedly jumping to the one plane where some corner of her mind is stuck." "Alright so-" Steve kept his hands on the table- "it's not dangerous to her, right?" Loki and Wanda shared a look with each other. The latter cursed under her breath. "Hey, Friday-" Wanda called out to the room, making the walls light up- "can you show us how long Y/N has been plane-jumping from the very first time, till now?" Friday chimed, bringing up a hologram of a graph and the number of minutes to hours you had been spending in your trance travel. "Here are the results, Miss Wanda. Y/N's sleep jumping time has been increasing exponentially and the last two jumps have recorded erratic brain activity as per the readings I have taken." "How erratic?" Steve asked, zooming in on the rhythm readings Friday presented beside the graph. "There were three points in the last two incidents where there were blank readings. The first one lasted for three seconds and twenty-nine milliseconds. The latest one lasted for ten seconds and forty-six milliseconds." The camera was already recording Loki jumping from his seat to run for his phone attached to the charging platform by the nearest wall. His seat hit the floor just as he fast dialed someone on his phone. "What does she mean blank-" Wanda was already answering Sam's question. "She is disappearing." The ringing from the video call reverberated through the library while Wanda disconnected her call to Strange and dialled Wong instead. "Javi, where is Y/N right now." Loki was on the verge of heaving. The camera did not miss the veins popping in the God's neck. "Wong, I need you to bring Strange to Y/N's university. I'll explain everything just reach there right now." Wanda cut the phone and walked over to Loki. Javi signed something on the phone before directing his phone towards a figure sitting a few seats away from him, asleep.

  Observation Room, Neuropsychology Lab The room was barely lit, which the larger source of light coming from the MRI machine below in the lab. Yusuf took down notes on his laptop till the researcher in charge left the lab to bring their professor to analyse the readings from the current test subject. "Well, I am glad it's AP Anita overseeing the study with Professor Sherry. But then again, I do not expect David to understand the ABCs of this research somehow."  Yusuf looked in the seat next to him for an answer but found you nodding off. Your mouth agape, snoring while your head tried to balance itself on the head of the very uncomfortable seats. "Woah," he whispered, almost stifling a laugh, "and here I thought you could not surprise me after the whole 'dog ate my homework' stunt last week." Yusuf proceeded to take a lone notebook out of his bag before folding it and moving at the back to carefully put it between your head and the seat for support. But just as he touched your head to move it a little bit forward, Javier's camera caught a blue glow emanating from your body. So did Yusuf. "Y/N?" The glow got intense. And to add to the saplings of horror for the college friend, your hair started floating on its own right when your eyes shot open with the same cold blue glow illuminating your iris in the most rotten of hues. "Y/N! What the-" Before the lad could say anything, a strong gust of wind knocked down the photographs on the wall as the camera captured Loki and Wanda entering the room.  "Yusuf," the God declared with his natural air of authority, "might I ask you to please step away from the lady." Yusuf was already moving into the wall nearest to him when he was startled by a string of fireworks cutting a hole through the wall to let Strange and Wong in. "That's Dr Strange! A-and you're the Scarlet Witch!" the boy was near to choking on his own bewilderment. Loki looked at the camera with a hint of disdain. "So much for helping out with his thesis," he muttered as he made his way to your figure, which had got up and started floating by now.

Wanda and Wong killed the lights to the observation room before teleporting the entire room to the open grounds of Kamar Taj. Wong was already directing a brutally lost Yusuf to take cover behind him. Wanda and Strange were marking off the boundaries to keep the damage as minimal as possible while Loki stood at the dead centre with your floating figure letting out a low growl that reverberated through the barriers of the magic walls. "Wanda," Loki called out for the witch, never taking his eyes off you, "can you hold her down till I do what needs to be done?" Strange took over from Wanda with the barrier creation. "Do you know where she's been jumping to?' Javier's camera caught the God pressing his lips and clenching his jaw. There was a blink-and-you-miss eye contact between Loki and Javier before the God answered. "I think I might have an idea." Javier was already moving behind Wong, but his camera was stuck on you and Loki, who worked as a distraction for your spine-chilling scream for Wanda to grab from behind and lock your arms in. Within seconds, Loki's fingers were moving on your head, settling on the major points. A golden light was exuding from those very points in seconds, turning those screams into cries for help and your cold blue irises into burning circles of fiery gold.  "OH F***!! WHAT THE F*** IS HAPPENING!!!" Yusuf was screaming for his life from behind Wong as Javier tried to record the seven stages of horror on his face.  Even when your own cries died down and you practically slumped in Wanda's arms, Yusuf's cries for help echoed singularly through the grounds till the young man realised it and abruptly stopped, wiping his tears and clearing his throat. By now, everyone was staring at him. The deafening silence wanted to make the man curl had it not been for Wong patting him on the back. "It's okay. It's okay. It's your first time," Wong sang, not really comforting the poor lad much.

  The Facility, Evening Hours The Lounge was softly lit as almost everyone was gathered together. Scott was deciding which movie to put when the elevator dinged and Peter and Pietro walked out while in the middle of some serious discussion. Pietro immediately called out for his sister in their mother tongue, asking about you. As if to answer his question, you walked out of the dorms with a towel of your washed hair and a weak wave of your hands. "Hey, guys!" "How are you feeling?" Wanda asked for everyone in the room. One camera did catch Loki sitting by the further end of the kitchenette, pouring himself a good shot of whiskey before handing the bottle to Sam. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't realise what was happening to me. I must have been such a pain in the ass." Everyone pshaw-ed and waved their hands to show their support for you. You hugged Wanda and Natasha tight. "You have Loki to thank for saving your life," Scott was quick to add, "and our lives, of course. He apparently figured everything out just in time because Tony is landing tomorrow." You looked in Loki's direction, who swivelled in his seat to raise his glass in your direction. "Cool. Thanks, man," you stated, slowly earning confused looks from your family around you. Scott chuckled. "Thanks, man? I was half expecting you to run towards Loki and shout 'my saviour' before hugging him tight so I could half expect to have Clint walk out the elevator at that very moment." Natasha chortled at the thought and gave Scott a pat on his back. You walked over to the kitchen island and sat beside Loki. "Sorry for the trouble." Loki scoffed. "Please, woman. This was nothing compared to our space adventure." And he rose over the island to bring out a bottle of the Jagermeister, pouring a shot and presenting it to you. "I am scared someday you'll run out of patience for me." You clinked your glass to his, shared a knowing look with Javier's camera and gulped that shot in seconds. Loki laughed. "Oh, we'll see runs out of patience first." At the other end of the room, Strange eyed Loki quite closely while slowly sipping on his Old Fashion.

Strange: Loki still hasn't told me what Y/N was tethered to. *narrows his eyes to look at some invisible void in the distance* It's almost as if he does want to tell me. *looks back at the camera with the same level of suspicion*

Later That Night Scott is closing the curtains to the recording/interview room when he hears the sound of your soft laughter from the lounge. The camera person with him moves to the door to watch you greeting Loki goodnight as the God is the first to leave the lounge. The camera turns to Scott to signal him to come over. Gathering the hidden packets of snacks in his hands, he tip-toes to the door to watch you sit there and watch Loki disappear into the dorms. Javier sits opposite you on the kitchen island, shaking his head but still recording your expression turning from wistful longing to frustration as your face hangs in between your hands and lets out a groan. "Of all the people in this wide-ass universe," you grumble in a whisper to your confidant, "and I had to fall for him." The looming silence breaks with all the snacks falling down from Scott's limp arms, the camera recording the horror on your and Javier's face before curses fly out of your mouth.

[hel-phoenyx]

Willy and Lan Yue belong to @noa-de-cajou !

_________

"Pssst, Emerens-"

He's standing next to me, so awkward in his costume that's not supposed to be worn by seven years old children. We had to be very slick to not be noticed by mom or his dad, because they don't like us playing together ; it is why he stills speaks on a low tone, even now.

I turn my head towards him, still amazed at how similar we look. He's my cousin, but we share so much physical traits people sometimes mistook him as my brother. Mum and uncle hate it.

"yea ?"

"I saw Elvira getting out of her room and I have Carlijn's suitcase. Let's go dress up."

He asks me to dress up a lot. We both like this game. Elvira's dresses suit him, better than they suit me, and we have fun going through mom's makeup palette. Once I did his nails, and I never saw a bigger smile on his face since.

So of course I'm gonna say yes.

Who am I to say no to a smile?

***

"So this is not a phase ?"

We are sitting on my hospital bed. Elvira and Carlijn brought them in complete illegality to see me, and I know from the countless missed calls I am still hearing from my sister's brand new phone that it is gonna be nasty when they all get back, but I feel the selfish inclination to still be happy. I see so few people during my recovery.

They are looking at me, anxious, while I am telling them about all the people I talk to in the geriatric pole of the hospital. Gay people, trans people, and so many other words I wasn't aware of.

When I talked about some of my favorite stories, the ones of the girls that are boys that are neither and that are happy, they told me they were feeling this way too, and weren't sure if it was normal. So I could tell them of the people who discovered that is was.

I shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm not in your head. i'm just telling you there are people like that."

"... I thought I was the only one, that it wasn't normal to... Not feel that your body is your body. Or that it was, but not like this. It's complicated..."

"Yeah, I didn't get it at first, either. You want me to introduce you ? Mr Hunchausen is adorable, I'm sure he would be happy to talk to you too."

A tiny smile grew on their lips.

"Yes, please."

***

"My name is Willelmien, by the way."

We met for Christmas, like every year. I'm back from Saint-Cyr, feeling the weight of the first year without Thibault, and seeing my cousin is probably one of the biggest if not the only joy of those holidays.

Her hair is a bit longer, as long as someone who appears as a boy could wear without nasty looks. It looks nice on her. I want to let mine grow too, but mom never agreed. She says it's unprofessional.

Hearing that made me smile.

"New name ? It's cute."

"Thank you, thank you. Also, look at this !"

She shows me her hand, hidden under a winter glove she didn't bother to remove before now. Under it is fingers laced with a beautiful ring, adorned with a splendid green nail polish. It matches our eyes.

"Wow ! It looks so cool!"

"I bought it myself, she said, brimming with pride. I saved all my Christmas money for this, but it was worth it. Mom and dad can't see it, tho. Please just pretend I'm cold if they ask."

Fair enough. Mother and father wouldn't like that either. I remember the time they caught me in the bathroom holding mother's lipstick. I will never forget father's stern lecture about how boys don't play with makeup. I can undernstand why she didn't want to be a boy anymore. Can girls be more left alone about that?

This is not only at home, though. Saint-Cyr is worse. We can't hug, we can't kiss, we can't laugh. And I miss my friends so dearly.

I really hope she won't live the same thing.

***

I landed in the hospital again. This time for an entirely different reason.

Everything hurts. I prefered when it was nothing.

This time I can't roam around free, or talk to people, or listen to stories. I can only read in my corner, too much in pain to pick up a pen again, and too unstable for visits. At least that's what they said.

The doctor still comes by sometimes, tells me he found a good edition company for my book, that they promised to read it in behalf of their good relations to the hospital.

I miss them so much.

But as much as I want to see her, I hope for nothing more than the fact she isn't in that hospital.

***

How many years has it been ?

I grew up so much since our times together. We weren't older that twelve when I said my goodbyes, and years later when I finally landed in France, I expected it to be forever.

And yet, after "van Heel, Emerens" the list calls for "van Heel, Willelmien" and there she is in the gymnasium, taller and leaner and so much happier than last time we saw each other. She heard my name and my Ultimate too, and she is searching in the room, too far away for me to see her face but yes not enough to miss the frenzy in her movements.

Finally, our eyes meet. And on her face appears the biggest smile I have ever seen.

Mine is probably the same.

***

Hope's Peak is both an enter towards future and a jump back in the past. I indulged in both during the past week, meeting new people, making new friends, and making up for lost time with my most beloved, my Sharon that, too, grew up so, so much.

And now I am with Willy talking about what has been, and she laughs when I mention my first attemps to play an electric guitar, funny enough for me to land my first time with a girl. People already know us as "the siblings of the school". I do nothing to correct them.

We sit on that bench near the sakura trees. After my exposition of pride about my books and my musical talent, all the art I let myself thrive in after all those years, she boasts about her skills in make-up, care and all the things that earn a woman the title of socio-esthetician.

"And grandma promised to pay for all my hormone replacement therapy," she says with that huge, sunny smile. "She doesn't understand a lot about transidentity, but she is so much better than the other old fucks. Living at her place really was an upgrade, you have no idea!"

She does not talk about how she landed at her maternal grandparents, as I do not talk about Saint-Cyr. I know that she knows, and she knows that I know. There is no need to open up old wounds. I hide mine too well under bands, and her under makeup.

"Old money paying for transness, best revenge ever, right ?"

I wink while saying that, and she laughs.

"Oh, fuck yes. Sadly that's not the van Heels', that would have been a huge slap in dad's face. But, eh, good enough. Still, can't depend on them for everything. I'm out of the will for sure now, and soon enough I'll have to earn my own shit..."

"Need some help in the meantime?"

A fist come hitting me right in the shoulder, his strenght countered by a hearty laugh.

"Oh come on, I do not need another trust fund! Don't worry about me, I'll manage. But I appreciate it, though. One of those days, when I'll be broke, old and unable to work, I'll aim for your bank account, pinky promise!"

That's the kind of promise I do not want to see broken.

***

"Say, Willy, how do you feel about having a girlfriend ?"

My dearest cousin sighs dramatically for the third time this day.

"Oh, please don't ask me! I'm DESPERATE for a relationship, and I can't spend my life in nightclubs like you do, I'll never get to your level of hoeing!"

"Woooooow. Ru-u-u-u-de!"

"Oh don't be sad, Rapunzel, no one can whore around as well as you do. But back to the matter at hand, why do you bring that on the table?"

I smile, albeit mischeviously.

"I want apologies or I'm not telling~~~~"

Acting like a little shit does earn you good things sometimes, but right now my only victory is Willy pulling on my hair. Not quite a victory per say, but hey, I'm laughing, and she is too.

"Oh come on, I know you take that as a compliment!"

"I do, but the condition still stands, Willelmien~"

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry, you little bitch. Now tell me, you made me curious."

"Good enough."

I stop on my tracks, noticing the silhouette of a splendid young girl, sat on a bench with her laptop. She taps on her keyboard completely ignoring the sunlight, only stopping in her tracks to put back a strand of blue hair behind her ear. Her clothing, not quite fit for january, show off a lot of her stomach, probably the source of protection against the cold. And the looks of countless starstruck ladies, including, I noticed earlier, my very own cousin.

"I have this friend that complained about not finding a girlfriend earlier in the week, and I happen to know a very single girl that could be very interested and is right in front of me..."

Willy burst into laughing.

"You wanna set me up a date ?"

"Not quite, not my job to do all the talking, my dear. But I was considering putting you two in a situation where you could talk, and maybe it would lead to something more... Well, not that something more," I add when noticing Willy's wink. "She's asexual and from what I know, sex is absolutely out of the question."

"Oh, I don't care, I want a girlfriend, not a hookup. Well, I hope she isn't fully exclusive, though. I can bear just fine, but van Heels and sexuality, you know..."

"Oh, I know too well. But she may be your ideal girl, because she's polyamorous as hell. So? Interested?"

I know her well enough to recognise that gleam in her eyes.

"Of course I am. Never thought my cousin would find me a date, the wonder of the world... Sure we're gonna hit it off ?"

I let out a laugh.

"I am never wrong in that kind of things."

And as always, I was right.

Because seeing Willy's smitten smile the morning after, holding Nako's phone number written on a beautiful note in one hand, is enough to lighten my whole week.

***

On the other side of the phone I hear a gasp in astonishment.

"You're coming over at the mansion for Christmas?"

"Elvira asked me, I grunted, trying to hide my frustration. I would have said no, but she already asked the old fuckers, so now I guess I'm expected. Never thought this would happen again, and yet..."

Silence takes place one second or two. Before Willy sighs in the mic, static ringing in my ears.

"I guess that's a good opportunity to convince her to get out of here. She missed you, you know. You may be able to make her realise this is not an environment suit for neither of us."

"That's what I thought. And afterwards, I'll go right to Louna's anyway. Her father is bedridden because of an injury and she wanted to be there all holidays, so I'll spend more time in the family-in-law than those other old bitches..."

Not that I ever wanted to see either of those old bitches ever again. The birth givers, the second roles, Leonard still being a rat and Carlijn probably searching for the best way to annoy her parents without paying attention to us.

At least I'll meet Annelies. From what I've been hearing, she's around six and very much not neurotypical. She'll need someone to gift her dinosaurs until she gets tired of that specific interest, because I'm sure as hell no one with money except Willy would try to listen to her.

And maybe I'll have the occasion to talk to Mareva.

Maybe.

My silence must be revealing, since the phone is not enough to mask Willy's worry.

"Hey, man. If you wanna talk about it, you can. And I promise I'll do what I'm able to for you to spend at least an okay Christmas. I know all the ways to sneak out from that rotten house."

"Don't get yourself in trouble because of me, tho..."

"I'll get in trouble for my very nature, Emerens. Let's get in trouble together."

Somehow, that is the most reassuring thing I have ever heard about that godsdamned Christmas.

***

"What the actual FUCK ?!"

I grit my teeth. Willy's reaction is exactly the reason I left her out of this, including the whole family trauma and a big ass lack of time. But I had to warn her at some point why we got a completely trauma Elvira staying at Lan Yue's, and also probably why I think they're gonna fuck in the next days or months depending on the situation and I'm not happy about it.

"Yeah. Father went too far this time. i thought he was a goddamn doormat, and yet..."

"This is not going too far, Emerens, this is goddamn illegal. Please tell me you're taking them to court."

"Oh, I will. But not now. I'm giving her, and us, time to recover. We need that. All of us."

Willy clenches her jaw, and sits down next to me, anger still plaguing her face. She is angry after my fuckers of parents, I know that, but that look in her eyes tell me she's also angry at me, and looking back, she has every reason to.

Still, there is no animosity in her attitude when she throws her arm around my shoulders.

"Fuck. This is insane."

"It is. Sorry for keeping you out."

"I am not happy about it, but I understand. This is high-level rich people fuckery. Nobody would involve someone on their own volition in there, even family."

"Especially family."

A sigh escapes my lips, and I let myself lean against her. I won't lie and say I do not need the contact. That was an awful week for me. Productive. But awful.

We got Elvira out of here with enough grounds to get her at least a restraining order against them, or at the very least a serious dent in their reputation. She won't ever return there, and I have one less reason to spend Christmas at the van Heels'. I finally managed to put words on what happened back at Saint-Cyr to another person than Senri and my therapist, and that person is my sisters' crush and one of my best mates.

Still, I feel like I've been dragged to the bottom of a garbage dump. Probably look like it, too.

Luckily for me, Willy does not push further. In place, she smiles, before poking my nose with her long-nailed finger in a classic Willy tease.

"And now Vivi stays at Lan Yuyu's flat? Lucky her."

I roll my eyes so hard I swear I saw the back of my very filthy brain.

"Oh please don't remind me, I am tired of being the overprotective little brother. I've just been so anxious all this time when I heard about their crush on her."

"Why anxious ? We are talking about LAN FUCKING YUE!"

"I know! Imagine if it was anyone else, my heart wouldn't handle..."

"Pitt-bull that you are, Rapunzel. I know she just got out of a very abusive environment, but she'll be fine."

"Yeah, we can only hope."

Because I want to see her fine. I want to see her happy. And Lan Yue can make her happy, I know that, I trusted him with my secrets and I would trust him with my life. I can trust him with my sisters.

I just don't want to lose her again.

Neither of them.

***

The call in the middle of the night took me by surprise, but when I see Willy's name of the screen, I have no choice but to respond. We do not leave family astray. At least, a specific part of family.

Sharon is sleeping next to me. So my first reflex is to rush to the bathroom, the most silently I can, before answering the call.

"Hey, Willy, are you okay-"

I'm cut short by incoherent stammering. Oh, for that nonexistent god's sake, I think she's hyperventilating... Is she having a panic attack ? why is her voice so far from the mic of the phone ? Jesus fuck, if only she wasn't currently in Amsterdam visiting her grandparents, I would have tried to reach her asap, I can't leave her like this...

I hate feeling powerless but in that situation, I can only try and take control of the conversation so she's grounded to something. Jesus Christ.

"Willy, I'm not going anywhere, take a deep breath. There. focus on my voice, okay? Whatever happened, I'll listen, I promise, but i won't be able to help if I don't understand you."

"Emerens-"

She takes a big breath. Her voice gets a little steadier, but I can still hear the anguish.

"I have a half-sister."

Whatever words I had in stock just end up stuck in my throat.

All I can do is hear Willy tell me about how her world ended crumbling.

***

A half-sister. Of course that was expected to happen. Mother noticed, Mareva noticed, of course I noticed my uncle was not as faithful as he appeared to be. It got worse after the old fucks moved to retirement home, when he just stopped caring about gaining something from being good.

I'd never have imagined it was bad to the point he didn't even take precautions.

She's called Rosaline. Pretty name. History student, around Justen's age. The daughter of a maid of their house, probably very young if I judge by the pictures. I wager she was about twenty when that motherfucker knocked her up.

When she reached out to Willy, it was to connect. But also because she heard about the family feud and wanted to drag her asshole father to the mud. So we're gathering proof for the most nasty divorce ever. With maximum consequences for my bitch ass cheater of an uncle.

And now I'm with Willy to meet her because she wanted nobody else around. Maybe because it's not my first trial against a van Heel, I know the drill. Or maybe just because she needed support. Who knows.

"This feels so weird," grunted Willy rubbing her hands against one another. "I'm meeting a sister I never even heard about months ago, and we're doing that to fuck up my parents marriage."

"No offense, but Diederik fucked his own marriage, not us. By fucking other people in his wife's back."

"None taken, and you're absolutely right, that ass had it coming. But it's still weird."

I let out an ironic laugh.

"Think about it that way, Willy, he fucked to much, and now he's gonna get fucked. Karma always comes to bite you in the ass. You can't fuck without being fucked. The eternal cycle of fuck..."

"Says the bottom."

"Bitch I'm a switch?! And I certainly don't want you to find out!"

"Oh, ew, please, no! There is enough incest in this bloodline already!"

We burst out laughing, and that is enough to forget even for one moment the situation we're in.

Family stick out for each other, huh. I didn't think that would happen again in my lifetime, and here I am, happy to be of the same blood of someone.

[themculibrary]

WandaVision (TV Show) Masterlist 2

Links Last Checked: May 20th, 2024

part one

12:50 am (ao3) - palettesofrenaissance monica/jimmy T, 1k

Summary: Since their brief initial meeting, Jimmy was entranced by Monica. How could he not? Her beauty alone is enough to garner attention, but when he got to know her, Jimmy found he couldn’t let her go. And then watching her inside the Anomaly increased his drive to save her.

But he fears if he doesn't make his move now, he may miss out on this opportunity forever.

A Bit of Friendly Advice (ao3) - incrxibles wanda/agatha G, 2k

Summary: “Or maybe I could just be myself, more or less.” Agatha stared at Wanda, a seemingly dumbfounded look on her face, causing her to wonder what exactly she’d said wrong. And then, a familiar pale hand was on her cheek.

Set during WandaVision episode 2.

All Your Curves (ao3) - nightside_of_siberia agatha/wanda N/R, 842

Summary: Friends-with-benefits aren't supposed to catch feelings for one another, are they?

A Very WandaVision Christmas! (ao3) - EmptyIceCreamContainer wanda/vision T, 6k

Summary: Wanda and Vision wake up to find snow outside and their sons excitedly pointing out that Christmas is right around the corner! Realizing that they've missed 9 holiday seasons with their sons, they're determined to make the best Christmas ever! Can Vision exceed Dennis the Mailman's legendary light display to win the city council's award? Can Wanda secure THE most in-demand toy this holiday season? Or will their Christmas hopes disintegrate like a melting snowball?

AKA "What if WandaVision had a 90s episode AND a Christmas special?"

Breaking the Fourth Wall (ao3) - QuothRaven T, 1k

Summary: Agatha didn’t hate kids.

No, really. She didn’t. In fact, she quite likes kids. Most of the time.

Then again, most kids aren’t the magical creations of a chaos witch.

breathe in the silence; breathe out the weight of the years (ao3) - rightpastnowhere wanda/vision T, 1k

Summary: isolation nearly killed her once.

but oddly enough, after everything in westview, it may be the thing she needs to start piecing herself back together.

(or: wanda, a cabin in the woods, and the slow beginning to recovery)

Happy Endings Aren't For Everyone (ao3) - orphan_account G, 1k

Through the shadows, Billy could see Tommy quickly drifting off to sleep from across the room, no idea of what was to come.

A faint red haze crept its way into the room. It was faded to the point of where it was barely noticeable, but Billy noticed it nonetheless. This is really it, isn’t it?

//or The twins' POV of the night the Hex ended.

Hello Again (ao3) - faebeast wanda/vision T, 49k

Summary: After the events of Westview, White Vision finds himself at Wakanda. The new memories he received at Westview haunt him, urging him to regain the identity he once had. Severely weakened due to the loss of the Mind Stone, he is on borrowed time to find a new power source and restore his former emotions. As he begins to put the pieces of his life together, he finds old friends. And old enemies.

Only in a Sitcom (ao3) - ForASecondThereWedWon darcy/jimmy T, 26k

Summary: Darcy has no idea what the hell's going on with this WandaVision thing, but neither does Jimmy. It's kinda fun to have somebody to binge-watch alternate reality TV with.

Out of reach (ao3) - Frehoir G, 1k

Summary: They both want something that seems impossible. Well, seems to be. Yet Wanda has managed to make a life she’s happy with, and Agatha swears she’s a moment away from grasping such great power.

If only things weren’t so complicated.

But in spite of Wanda’s fragile heart, Agatha can’t help the small gentleness that escapes her cold heart.

// Set during E08 “Previously On”. A small window between the end of Wanda’s memories and leaving Agatha’s basement.

over and over 'til i get it right (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision T, 7k

Summary: “Where have you been?” she asks, her touch dancing toward the inside of his wrist, tugging the sleeve down. He freezes. “Working in the garage, then?"

“Er…” Vision stammers as she traces the dark ink stains on the flesh of his palm all the way down past the fabric. “No, that’s… um.”

“Oooooh, secrets,” she snickers, “What have you been up to?”

What he’s been up to is terribly demeaning. 

-

There's an empty spot in the center of the property deed and Vision wants to fill it. He doesn't know how to draw a heart. He will simply have to learn.

punisher (ao3) - pinkfingernails wanda/vision N/R, 2k

Summary: what i think happened after wanda took down the hex

Series Finale (ao3) - SegaBarrett wanda/vison T, 10k

Summary: All good things.

The One Where Clint is Wanda's Weakness (ao3) - JinxQuickfoot T, 5k

Summary: Agatha dragged her hostage around in front of her, yanking the strings so he was forced up onto his knees. “Told you I had a very special surprise for you. Now—stand down, dear.”

Slowly, still not quite believing this was real, Wanda lowered her hands, trying to find her voice again. “Clint?” -------------------------------------- So that's where Clint was during WandaVision

The toughest one (ao3) - missingcrowdsof100s G, 1k

Summary: A closer look at what’s going through Monica’s head as she’s going through the Hex again.

Who are you (ao3) - Whiplaaash123 T, 2k

Summary: Suddenly, Peter is having to face being trapped as somebody else (more than once), stuck in Westview and all this done by someone who seems way too much like his sister.

All the while hoping maybe his actual sister will show up here or someone, anyone, because sooner or later he thinks he'll go crazy.

AKA a WandaVision fix-it because I still believe that Ralph is Peter.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Hey guess who had a dream about surviving being springlocked? There were also two of Chica's cupcakes in the river as like a secret display thing my friend showed. The springlocking killed me btw but they managed to save me and I made a full recovery. So in my dream, we returned to school after the six weeks holiday and I dropped my jacket, spilling an absolute shit ton of stuff all across the floor, under everyone's tables and shit. As I'm going around getting my stuff back, I hear them saying I ruined springlock suits cause ya know surviving one failing on you is gonna cause a stir.

There was a whole game ending feeling to the actual springlocked situation too. Like as I was being springlocked, a shadowy figure came towards me in like a visual novel kind of way. In the distance for a good chunk of frames, then climbing up onto a platform nearby and then reaching for the suit I was in. I think I'd been running from them earlier I dunno but I was running from something in an underground facility kind of thing.

As I'd turned the corner, there were various endos against the walls and I just kept running. An endo at the end stepped out of this metallic blue station thing and walked to it's right to do something or other and I jumped into the blue station it came from to hide. Next thing I know, I get scooped, but then it swaps to me in a springlock suit cause I guess that's more fun or something or lined up with the previously established "everyone thinks you ruined springlock suits for actually dying to one and miraculously surviving after resuscitation" plot

Ya know, I'm not sure even the kids I went to school with would be that judgy about someone almost dying to springlocks ngl lmao like dayum I guess it's fine if this kid (me) came back after nearly dying horrifically but fucking hell they ruined springlock suits forever :( they get regulated to be actually safe now :( this is so unfair :(

I didn't see any of the recovery of anything like that. It started when I was walking with my friend and I was too scared to look in the river at the Cupcake because I thought I'd fall in and when I looked, I just kinda drifted into the water lmao. I thought "no no. I didn't do that. Put me back." and it didn't happen. I knew I'd been springlocked at this point but only vaguely.

I was then at this random place my brain generated for a school for lunchtime or something and picking my stuff up from the floor I heard them say I'd ruined springlock suits. I knew that this was because of health and safety changes and better regulation that was put in place as a result of what happened. Apparently things not killing you anymore means it's been ruined.

I feel like I either woke up for a sec or something else happened after that, but I'm not sure. Next thing I remember is me running from someone, the endos and then getting springlocked with the guy coming closer. Then I was back at the river with my friend where I actually looked into the water to see the two Cupcakes. One was pretty fucked up and the other was the replacement of it that was cute and in one piece still. Don't remember anything else after that except the second time I was at the river, I knew I had a shit ton of scars that were 'like tiger stripes' all over me. I was in perfect health though

Which is weird. You'd think I'd have some lasting damage from that...

Afterwards, in my in-between state of being asleep and awake, I dreamed up an answer to how I survived. I might have been asleep for this I dunno I couldn't tell. But anyway, the reason I didn't die was because something was jamming the springlocks before I was in there. So when they clamped down on me, they got even more jammed and that's what saved me. I then had some time on the recovery end and how absolutely agonising that would have been, along with random stuff about leg braces, crutches and whatever else, I don't remember the specifics on that, but it was all attempts to explain the recovery process.

I'm glad I don't usually have a sense of touch in my dreams because wow it would have sucked to feel all of this snndjd None of this was scary btw this wasn't a nightmare or anything. Sure, the guy coming closer was a bit scary, but not enough for it to really matter much lmao

Oh also, I remember that I dropped my jacket before the holidays and I was only just then going around getting the stuff that fell out of the pockets. I explained this to people asking what I was doing as "yeah I'm one of those people that keeps putting stuff in my pockets and forgetting about it." because there was a LOT of stuff apparently. One of the things was an old chocolate lollipop that was bigger than my average jacket pockets lmao apparently my jacket is like the fucking TARDIS now

But yeah that's what I was dreaming of all night! Fun, right?

[wincestbigbang]

2022 Master Post

Title: Bat Boy: The Fic Author: cleighwrites Artist: outofnowhere82 Other Pairing: side John and Mary Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Summary: A Bat Boy is found in the nearby woods and is adopted into the family of town Veterinarian John Winchester, much to his chagrin. The family - wife Mary and son Sam - falls in love with him, and they name him "Dean." Dean learns what it means to be human after so many years of living on his own in a cave. However, the townsfolk are less inclined to take him in, and life is not made easy for the untraditional family. Truths come out in a fatal encounter, will Sam and Dean be left in peace to live their lives in the aftermath? Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: The Taste of Endogenous Morphine Author: Jenchantress_stories Artist: MidnightSilver Other Pairing: Dean / OFC (in a flashback) Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Underage Masturbation, Self-harm, blood and injury, first time, anal sex, top Dean / bottom Sam Summary: Set between 15x19 and 15x20. Since their adolescent days, Sam and Dean desired each other in ways they shouldn’t. About 20 years later, the two of them finally found peace and freedom. They easily settle into an apple-pie life. At least, that is what it seems, but Sam can’t shake off his doubts. Is this the reality? Or maybe too good to be true? Pain used to be a good coping mechanism until it got out of control. After a near-fatal incident, Dean suggests that something else might do the trick… Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Avenging Angels Author: ncdover1285 Artist: alexiescherryslurpy Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: mentions of sex trafficking children, kidnapping of children, trafficking of minors, murder, serial killers, descriptions of kills, blood, turned on by blood, John Winchesters A+ parenting, torture, violence, first kiss because of violence, murder, first kiss, Sam is demisexual, inappropriate boner, Dean Winchester’s first time with a man, top Sam Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, public sex, frottage/grinding, bottoming from the top, Impala sex, car sex, Sex in the impala, oral sex, blow jobs, virgin Sam Winchester, supportive Bobby, multiple POV, wincest, incest, torture Summary: When their mother was killed, Sam and Dean were tossed around from motel room to motel room by their father. That was until they went to stay with a family friend who raised them as his own. One day, they get a call that their father has died too. The brothers set out to find the person who killed their parents, not knowing what that would lead to and the life they had in store. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Can We Go Bump in the Night? Author: SetsunaNoroi Artist: OutofNowhere82 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: None Summary: Sam, still reeling from being thrust back into the life as a hunter and his dad’s demise, is rethinking things. Mostly his inability to be honest with his loved ones like Jessica or his dad. Desperate not to repeat the same mistake, he decides to tell Dean how he really feels for him. Problem? Well, he really kind of sucks at the seducing thing, and he’s very awkward about it like he always has been. But it’s okay! Cause Sam has this! He’s got a plan and is determined to make it work, no matter what embarrassing moments he has to force himself to live through. Luckily, his most hated holiday is around the corner and will help… maybe. Okay, maybe Sam doesn’t have this. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: To Hell And Back Author: jdl71 Artist: amberdreams Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Demon Deals, Demons, Hurt Dean, Determined Sam, Rape, Rape Recovery, Angst, Pain and Suffering, Violence, Blood, Torture, Death, Major Character Death, Resurrection, Hurt and Comfort, Nightmares, Wincest, Incest, Sibling Incest, Top Sam, Bottom Dean, Spells, Hell, Hellhounds Summary: Dean makes a demon deal, sacrificing himself to save Sam. Determined, Sam will do anything to bring his brother back from Hell so they can be together. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Your Mirror is Black Author: KillerofHope Artist: Alexiescherryslurpy Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: older Sam/younger Dean, top Sam/bottom Dean, pre series, light bdsm, underage Summary: Often, Sam and Dean only have each other when John leaves them alone. They don’t think about their strange, also sexual, relationship that much as long it’s fun. That changes when Sam decides to go to college. Art: Tumblr | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Magic In My Bones Author: yohkobennington Artist: bluefire986 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: S2AU. Temporary Character death. Summary: Something keeps taking Dean, and Sam is at loss as to what and how to stop it. They soon discover things as aren't simple as they seem and secrets are revealed about them that turn their world upside down. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: Lose This Number Author: lovetheirloves Artist: ncdover1285 Other Pairing: Temporary Offscreen Sam/Jess Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Season 2 (Special Children) Spoilers Summary: Fifteen years ago, in an act of unforgivable cowardice, Dean Winchester ran out on his brother Sam after their relationship turned sexual. He left behind the Impala, his amulet, and decade and a half of silence. Now, Dean wants to reconnect, but he’s not the only one looking for Sam. The yellow-eyed demon is still searching for his favorite “special child,” who now has a child of his own – a six-year-old daughter whose terrible headaches come with mysterious visions, just like her father’s. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: The Red Taste of You On My Tongue Author: runedgirl Artist: midnightsilvers Rating: NC-17 Warning: Show level violence, Dub con, Addiction Summary: Sam is determined to cure Dean of being a demon, but Dean has his own ideas of how to turn the tables on his brother. Art: Ao3 Story: Live Journal | Ao3 Title: The Salt-Filled Skins of Ptolemaea Author: Maven Morozov Artist: BlindSwandive Other Pairing: minor Sam/Azazel Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Underage, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Blood Kink, Trans!Sam, some queerphobia & consensual misgendering, Gore, Cannibalism, Murder, discussions of periods & pregnancy, Dark!Wincest Summary: Sam has always felt like a freak in his body. As long as he can remember, his life has revolved around his brother–but as he begins to transition from a child to a teenager, he’s forced into a reckoning of his feelings for Dean, and a strange angel appearing in his dreams that calls itself Azazel. Art: Live Journal Story: Ao3 Title: The Viking's Alpha Author: outofnowhere82 Artist: bluefire986 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Alpha!Dean, omega!Sam, Alternate Universe - Vikings, hurt!Dean, Knotting, Mates, playing fast and loose with viking lore, Mild Gore, Minor Violence Summary: Sam is an omega and military leader of the clan. Dean is an alpha and his second. Ever since Sam’s birthday, they have had a run of bad luck during raids (injuries, not any loot, death) and his warriors are saying that Freya is displeased that he hasn’t found love yet. He has, but it’s Dean and doesn’t want to confront his feelings. When Dean almost dies, Sam decides it’s time to mate and tell Dean of his decision. Art: Live Journal | Ao3 Story: Ao3 Title: I Don't Smoke Author: distortionofself Artist: ncdover1285 Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Vague implication of weecest, cigarette use, bottom Sam/top Dean Summary: After John's death, Dean blames himself, puts up walls, and barricades himself from love. Sam tears every single one down. Art: Tumblr Story: Ao3 Title: It’s You and Me Forever Author: blackrose_17 Artist: emmatheslayer Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Mpreg, bottom Sam and top Dean Summary: Dean wasn't about to let Sam spend his entirety trapped in the cage with Lucifer if Sam goes then so does he and that changes everything because Heaven and Hell's plans never counted on the bond between them. Making Sam and Dean soulmates would undo all of Heaven and Hell's plans and puts Sam on the throne of Hell and Dean as his Knight. Art: Dream Width Story: Ao3

[gumnut-logic]

Dad (or Five times Alan’s brothers carried him to bed and one time they didn’t) (Part 5, Bit 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 - Bit 1, Bit 2 | Part 5 - Bit 1

This is all @flyboytracy​​​​ ‘s fault.:P ::hugs:: From this post

Okay, these bits are getting too long for me to write them in one go, so have Bit 1 of Part 5. I’m getting there, I promise. I’m trying my best not to be distracted by the Avengers AU that is nibbling on my brain.

Many thanks to @katblu42​ who did a wonderful read through, and to all of you who have been so kindly supportive of this fic and all my crazy over the last few days. I get frustrated towards the end of the week as I do longer hours on Thursdays and Fridays and it kills off my writing time (my new working hours have destroyed my writing practise, hence my slowness of late).

But anyway, I babble. I hope you enjoy this fic :D

-o-o-o-

There were repercussions, of course.

Grandma enforced extra downtime on Virgil and literally smothered both him and Alan in hugs.

Alan’s hair was messed up repeatedly.

John was called down from orbit to provide backup for piloting Thunderbird Two in case Four was needed. It wasn’t like he could just skip to and from orbit without health issues, so down was down for some time.

Grandma ran overwatch for the few rescues that were unavoidable and Virgil grumped around the house complaining that he was fine only to get a dose of vertigo and nearly fall down the nearest set of stairs to demonstrate exactly how not fine he actually was.

A grounded Virgil was a grumpy Virgil.

A Virgil banned from the hangars was hell itself.

Alan worried about him. Scott well and truly piloted the worry wagon, but Alan was definitely a passenger. In short, there were a frustrating few days for all of them.

But Virgil eventually returned to his old self as symptoms faded away. Grandma was convinced eventually to put him back on rota, with one requirement.

That leave for all of them be scheduled in the near future.

Scott automatically protested, followed by Virgil who thought it was all his fault. John whined about being down from Five - he hadn’t been allowed back yet.

Gordon was awfully quiet about the whole thing, but Alan was happy. It had been ages since he had had all his brothers home at once and no one was on sick leave, injured or otherwise incapacitated. And while he was fully aware of the implications of IR being offline, he did feel that the world owed him a brotherly vacation.

Since Grandma’s word was law on Tracy Island, that is exactly what happened three weeks later.

The delay was a chance for Virgil to get back up to speed and full recovery so he could actually enjoy the leave without fretting that Two hadn’t had her x amount of servicing since he had been injured. It also gave them time to prepare for time off - alert the GDF, tie John to something bolted to the planet so he could enjoy being on the planet for his leave, and prep Tracy Industries to be minus one eldest brother.

What they should do with their time off was also mandated by Grandma. She knew Alan’s brothers far too well. She claimed she wanted to keep them all together before the billionaires could scamper off to their far distant corners of the planet.

Or hide in the hangars doing Tracy Industries work. Yes, Scott, I know what you are planning.

Scott truly could throw a pout more than any of them, even Alan.

So this holiday found them in the Daintree rainforest in northern Australia. There was argument that they should go to Rome, England or even Belize, but Grandma determined that they needed both isolation and people, and their luxury treehouse was familiar enough for relaxation and different enough for a change of scenery.

And privacy. So much privacy, yet the opportunity to mingle with civilisation if it was wanted.

Virgil, of course, took the opportunity to visit every art gallery in Cairns and purchase a number of works to support many artists.

It was his thing.

Not really Alan’s thing, though.

Gordon took off for a few days on the remains of the Great Barrier Reef, checking on a few projects he was sponsoring. Alan tagged along on a couple of them.

So much fish.

While Alan loved his brother beyond belief, he did not have a marine biologist’s degree and despite being awed by all the sights, Alan lost his big brother in the land of excited science.

Virgil tagged along on one of the trips and did his usual thing of nodding and understanding as Gordon bounced on the spot in excitement.

But Alan…he saw the value, knew what was at stake, and loved that his brother was enjoying himself…but it was boring. He saw enough fish and crabs at home. They all looked the same to him.

And the sharks. Gordon could keep all of them to himself, thank you very much.

Alan did spend some great time gaming. With Five in the sky, there was no such thing as lack of internet or any other connection for that matter.

Though both Scott and John were grumpy about the fact they couldn’t connect with certain servers.

In fact, it was Scott and John who prompted Grandma to send them on a full day’s hike to some remote beach. Surprisingly, Scott showed some enthusiasm. John, not so much, but was persuaded by the fact they could camp on said beach and see the stars just in time for a forecast meteor shower.

Alan jumped at that. Actual time stargazing with his star brother? Sure, it was Earth based, but still!

So it was with some excitement that Alan joined their little party.

What he didn’t realise was how much of a hike Grandma had sent them on.

Virgil made sure they packed everything they needed…everything. Somewhere along the line, Alan got the distinct feeling his big brother had forgotten that they weren’t taking Two with them.

His pack was okay for the first twenty minutes of walking through rainforest, but after that, it got heavier and heavier.

How far away was this stupid beach anyway? While he appreciated the need for fitness, Alan much preferred rocket power to foot power.

“You okay there, squirt?” Kind brown eyes stared down at him. Virgil was ever monitoring all of them like some medical radar.

“I’m good.” Bravado was needed, don’t show weakness. His brothers were heroes after all. He definitely had a benchmark to live up to.

Scott glanced back at him and smiled. It was like approval. So Alan straightened and reset his tolerance a little higher.

It lasted another half an hour.

They had just made it up a hill and were walking along a ridge. Gordon exclaimed at the sight of the ocean.

And Alan groaned at exactly how far away it was. “How much further?”

Scott smiled. “Only a few kilometres. You okay, Allie?”

None of his brothers were showing any sign of wear much less tear. Even Virgil, the recently injured and healed seemed absolutely fine.

Alan sighed internally. “Yeah, I’m good. Just wondering.”

Scott stopped and waved their brothers past him until he reached Alan. A hand landed on his shoulder, a slight frown over his big brother’s blue eyes. “You sure you’re okay?” He stared at Alan’s pack. “Not too heavy?”

Now all four brothers had concerned eyes on him. Aww, man.

He shook his brother’s hand off. “I’m fine, Scott.” He was as good as any of them. He was a Tracy after all.

That thought had him storming past all of them and a fair distance ahead.

That, of course, made things worse, because now he was in the lead and all four brothers could see his every move. Trailing towards the back he had been able to at least dawdle a little.

Not now. He had to push on and be the hero he always wanted to be.

Who knew being a hero would be so exhausting.

By the time they made it to the beach his legs were only so much jello. Staring at the white sands and beautiful turquoise water…water that they couldn’t swim in because this was northern Australia and everything in there would either bite, sting or drag you to your death. Why the hell were they here again?

A slap on his backpack nearly sent him sprawling. “Watch it there, squirt, you look like you want to face plant in that sand right there. I wouldn’t. It’s a bit warm.” Gordon grinned at him, his face lit up by the sun above the trees behind them.

“Shut it, Gordon.” Alan waddled forward on the soft sand a moment, before darting past his fish brother and dumping himself beneath a palm tree.

For a moment he longed for Tracy Island’s Pohutukawa trees. This place was as tropical as their Island, but different in every other way.

The snakes and spiders for two specific terrifying things.

He had to admit to himself that only his pack was holding him upright.

This, of course, attracted Virgil like a fly to honey, those eyes of his scanning Alan just like the multiple medscanners his big brother had most definitely packed.

How much did one of those things weigh anyway?

“Allie?” Soft and gently inquisitive.

“I’m fine!”

That earned him an arched eyebrow.

Great. Now Virgil would be hovering for the rest of the night.

Alan was fine. Just sweaty and tired. The weather was just that little bit different. More land, less ocean breeze, he guessed.

And a damn long hike. He should have known it would be. Scott was renowned for forgetting not all his brothers had his length of stride.

Except maybe John.

“Allie?” A finger lifted up his chin and Virgil’s frown had turned serious.

Alan grunted at him and shook his head loose from his brother’s grip.

“You have a rest here while we put up the tent.” Virgil was stepping back, but still eyeing Alan like his brother might faint on the spot. “Get yourself a drink.”

“FAB.” He wasn’t going to argue with that. Didn’t think he had the energy to put up a tent anyway.

Virgil was still eyeing him, likely to get that drink for him if Alan didn’t move. But Alan did and Virgil slowly made his way back to Scott. Quiet words were had and pertinent looks made in his direction. Alan rolled his eyes.

And yanked the pack off his back and dragged out his water bottle.

He had to admit the cool fluid down his throat was absolute pleasure.

Stashing his pack behind him, he lay back and took advantage of the fact he had permission to sit on his butt.

It was cooler under the palm tree out of the sun. The sounds were familiar, breeze rattling through fronds above, his brothers’ voices, led by Scott as they deployed to get the tent set up, gentle waves on the shore. He closed his eyes.

The birds were different, but only marginally. He relaxed into the soft sand, putting his drink bottle down beside him.

So much like home.

He was asleep before he could even consider it.

-o-o-o-

“Alan.” His voice was whispered, but sharply. Scott?

“Alan!”

“Don’t startle him!”

Virgil?

Alan rolled over, uncomfortable with his neck at a weird angle.

Something rumbled and poked sharply at his side.

He swiped at it and it bit him, hooking a finger painfully.

That woke him up ever so quickly. His eyes shot open to something big with scaly legs and a blue head. He didn’t bother to give it identification as it bit at him again. He scrambled away while his brothers yelled and shouted from a distance.

The giant bird, because it was an awfully big bird, startled as Scott skidded in between Alan and the very non-extinct dinosaur. Because what kind of bird has a big chunk of bone sticking out of its forehead.

Scott grabbed Alan’s backpack and held it up between himself and the giant bird. “Alan back up slowly.” His big brother stepped backwards on the sand and forced Alan to scramble to his feet and do as he said.

The bird took a step forward, eyes staring at the brothers.

Scott and Alan took a step back.

TBC