#Yeah ill fight again when the time calls for it but :'''''''/ exhausteD........ So much blood on my hands ar dinner tables etc

[little-candy-store-of-horrors]

"You should see the other guy" - Archangel Michael

Alt expression/details:

[skzsauce01]

Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.  

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”  

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—  

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

──➤ Roronoa Zoro sent you a love letter to celebrate +400 followers, would you like to read it?

@newfriendjen sent a letter : ❝Hi Friend! Congrats again on your 400!! You definitely deserve many more! If you still have a spot open for you event (ignore if you filled them!), can I request: Smut Prompt #15 with Zoro 😏 please and thank you so much!❞ the author sent a letter : ❝dear jen, to say i got a bit carried while writing this is a bit of an understatement! but i hope you’ll like it as much as i liked writing it, all while cackling like a villain as i was writing this. thank you tons for the sweet words, you are such a sweetheart and i’m so lucky to know you! sending you lots of love! sealed with a kiss, nikki.❞

──➤ Prompt used : #15 “Look at what you’re doing to me.” ─➤ Genre : Smut. ➤ Warnings : MINORS DO NOT READ THIS, 18+ ONLY. Sexual intercourse, jealous sex, mild degradation, choking, biting, cunninlingus, penetration, spanking (once), sir kink.

The weather of the New World was often unforgiving, unpredictable, and at times, untamable. Sometimes, Mother Nature showed she was capable of crossing the limit of Nami’s extended knowledge regarding climate (and God knows her brain was severely infused with every secrets regarding the different kinds of weather, rendering her as a living, walking encyclopedia.) But alas, sometimes the rage of Mother Nature would be thrown upon any poor ship unready to face her wrath in the forms of undying tornados and waves that could reach the sky.

Hence why, every morning, Nami’s prediction on today’s weather was awaited by all, very much like a prophecy which was often set to come true— and if said prophecy announced any kind of weather gravitating around the lexical field of a natural catastrophe, one wouldn’t be surprised to perceive Usopp down on his knees in a praying position, diverse and unintelligible wishes to survive Mother Nature’s anger.

Much to the crew’s collective joy, the navigator had announced the most ideal weather— sunshine, a slight breeze and no cloud in sight, what appeared to be a regular weather in heaven. And, why of course, such a hot weather meant that both Nami and the local archeologist, Nico Robin, would bathe under the sun and relieve any kind of tension which had settled in after several fights (or just the exhaustion of having to deal with Luffy on a daily basis.)

And there you were, standing like a mannequin in the girls’ room in company of Nami and Robin, the latter throwing you an amused look at the way Nami was comparing which bikini would look better on you— the red one, an appeal for passion, or the black one, a statement of boldness? Her brows furrowed in unison at her poor attempt to make a decision, comparing how the colors married the shade of your skin.

« Robin, how are we feeling about the red bikini? It’s so cute, but I have a feeling something is missing… » The navigator wondered, her gaze falling on the taller woman next to her.

Robin couldn’t refrain from allowing a giggle from leaving her lips, surely it meant that she had her idea, an ill-intentioned one, that is. And, oh well, to say she had just a mere idea was an understatement : as she remained still, Robin summoned a couple of limbs to look for a green-colored bikini hidden in the drawers only to bring it to Nami’s attention. The two women shared a teasing glance, as if they communicated intentions filled with mischief through their eyes alone.

« I do believe something was missing, too. » Robin trailed off, bringing an index under her chin. « Something that might appeal to a certain swordsman. »

The evil cackle falling from Nami’s lips announced nothing good, and the sweet tone of her voice only deepened that sentiment. « You know how the saying goes : great minds think alike. »

« Hold on, what are you—… » You began, only to be cut off by the navigator, « Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to say, Y/N. We’re not fools, you know? You’re going to look like a real stunner with this bikini on, and I know that a certain someone won’t be able to resist. » She concluded her sentence with a wink sent your way, boy, sometimes you did understand why Zoro called her a witch at times.

« Join us when you’re ready, Y/N. I’m intrigued to see how this will go. » Concluded Robin, accompanying Nami towards the door to let you some privacy so you could change into the bikini, not that you have never changed in front of them and vice versa, but oh well.

You were now all alone, still haven’t moved an inch. Your thumb was brushing against the green fabric of the bikini over and over again until it had become some kind of obsession. But the more the motions continued, the more you realized that perhaps there was no other way to get out of this trap glamorously set by Robin and Nami. A sigh of despair left your lips, swearing to yourself that you’d have your payback sooner than later.

The door of the girls’ bedrooms slammed open, allowing your figure sculpted by the finest hands of the muses of beauty to be exposed to the kisses of the sun. The first sound to rip apart your thoughts was a squeal which left Nami’s mouth, the latter shaking Robin’s forearm with urgency to bring her attention onto you. « Robin, Robin! Look at her, isn’t she to die for? I’d bet all my money that Zoro is going to throw himself on her. I mean, just look at her! »

The same amused smile graced Robin’s facial traits, lowering her shades just a bit to have a good glance at how the oh so awaited green bikini embraced your body. « I must confess that it’s impossible to resist her. »

The words leaving her lips became clearer and clearer the more you approached them, a palette of rosy tones sitting proudly on top of your cheekbones at their compliments. « We saved you a seat, Miss I’m-too-sexy-for-my-own-good. Come with us! » Nami said, patting the empty spot next to her to which you wordlessly replied with a nod, sitting between her and Robin.

« You’re so evil, I kinda hate you for it. » A smile plastered upon your lips as the words died on your tongue.

« You love us and you know it. » Nami replied, letting her hand lingering on your forearm. « Ooh, would you look at that, Robin? The show is about to begin. » She concluded, taking a sip out of her cocktail with a gleam of mischief shining in her eyes.

And by show, the navigator undoubtedly meant the sudden appearance of the Sunny’s resident lover who had stormed out of the kitchen with a plate of different kinds of treats and cocktails for his ladies, spoiling them rotten on sunny days if it meant he could allow his eyes to linger a bit on your bodies in bikinis.

The first act of the show had begun in a flashy manner, as soon as Sanji closed the door leading to the kitchen behind him, the plate he was holding had fell onto the floor, a loud echo reasoning into the swordsman’s ears who was stuck in a deep state of slumber… Until now.

« I must have saved a country in my previous life to be worthy of such a privilege. » Sanji sobbed, falling onto his knees, « Y/N, you’re a goddess amongst us, we’re not worthy, I’m not worthy of your beauty. I will worship you everyday, I will cover you in love until my very last breath! » The cook continued, more and more praises falling from his lips in a continuous cascade as your cheeks were getting more and more red by the second. Alas, the more the blonde sang your praises, the more the swordsman was stirring awake— and if there was one thing Zoro hated with passion besides Sanji, it was waking up to loud noises.

Sanji had approached you, on one knee, the back of your hand pressed against his lips as the tears falling from his lips mixed with the blood leaking from his nose. « Thank you, my goddess, thank you for blessing my sore eyes. Words can’t describe how—… » And he went on and on again, his lips still traveling from the back of your hand to your forearm under Nami’s disgusted stare who yanked you away from him.

« My goddess—… »

« Oi! Do you ever shut up, stupid cook? » And despite the numerous occasions on which Zoro and Sanji have fought, Zoro’s words seemed intensely more acerbic, as sharp as the swords laying to his side, which even surprised Sanji.

« Were you talking to me, mosshead? » Sanji taunted.

« I don’t see anyone else here acting like a damn fool. » Zoro began, his sole eye conveying so much anger you could feel it. « Know your place. »

Nami elbowed Robin once more, the latter having long forgotten about the book sitting on her lap at this point. Sanji stepped towards the swordsman, dangerously reducing the space between the both of them until their foreheads were touching. There was no frown noticeable on Zoro’s face, but a blank expression which let through a pure anger. « She belongs to me, hands off what’s mine. » The swordsman spat, his shoulder hitting Sanji’s as he walked past him, leaving the cook in a stupor.

« Oi! You. » He said, pointing at your frame with his index. « Follow me. You and I are gonna’ have a word. »

He cursed himself for allowing his gaze to fall on your form, knowing damn well that with each second he spent looking at you in this green bikini (this damn color, he thought), the more he was falling under the spells casted by the muses of lust.

« Go get some! » Nami whispered, her tongue gracing her bottom lip.

« We expect all the details afterwards, my dear Y/N. » Robin giggled.

You had barely enough time to form any kind of response that you felt the foreign presence of Zoro’s digits snaking around your wrists and yanking you towards him. « Hey, I’m sure we can talk about this calmly, right? We can chat about it over a drink, I’ll ask Sanji to—… » Alas, your sentence never found its end, your mind going numb at the death glare Zoro sent your way as you mentioned Sanji’s name. But, paradoxically enough, it only fueled your arousal even more.

Zoro led you to the crow’s nest, trapping you and him both inside the same room. And as the silence grew heavier and heavier, until becoming asphyxiating, Zoro’s snicker broke the silence in the most mischievous way. A look of confusion was painted on your face, and you were quick to point at it. « W-What are you laughing at? »

« Do you think I’m fucking stupid? » Zoro half-asked.

You tilted your head to the side, slowly backing away until your back met the unforgiving surface of the wooden wall. « Answer me. » He demanded, one of his hand grabbing both of your wrists in one hold pinned above your head whilst his other hand cradled your jaw so you had no choice but devote your attention onto him.

« I don’t know what you’re talking about. » You pleaded, cheeks burning under the rosy tone as you felt his uneven breaths crashing against the column of your neck.

Wrong answer, Zoro shoved his knee between your already trembling legs. « You like the attention, hah? You love it when that pervert of a cook was throwing himself on you, is that it? Tch. » He was feeding his lust off of the scared expression on your face, blood rushing in the tightest space possible by the second.

« No answer, huh? ‘Guess I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, because it looks like you forgot who you belong to. » And with that, he dug his teeth into the skin of your neck, alternating between biting and sucking motions to form the most ravishing love bite— a symbol of belonging if you will. You squealed at the sudden sensation of his pearly whites inking his name into your skin, giving him exactly the reaction he was anticipating.

You rocked your hips against the thigh settled between your legs, a desperate attempt at getting some friction for your poor and aching core in need for attention. Zoro clicked his tongue once more at your antics, choosing to hush you by continuing the trail of hickeys adorning your martyr of a neck. « Care to explain what you’re doing? Throwing yourself on my thigh because you couldn’t get the shit cook, hah? You’re so fucking desperate, it makes me want to leave you there all alone. »

« Zoro! Please don’t, don’t leave me! I just need you, I don’t need anyone else but you! I promise I’ll be good but please, please, don’t leave me. » You pleaded, a clear veil of despair covering your eyes under his impassible expression.

The façade worn off soon, letting a smirk throne amongst his facial features instead. « Who do you belong to? » Zoro demanded, gliding the hand that was under your chin to your throat and applied just enough pressure to make sure to earn absolute submissiveness out of you.

« Y-You… » You choked out, the lack of oxygen marrying so well with your growing arousal.

His smirk only grew wider, a real testimony of the sick thoughts implanted in his brain that would make a demon blush. Both of his hand retreated to his side, gaze falling on the unmissable erection showing through his dark pants. His eyes alternated between you and the bulge in his pants, your mouth going dry at the wordless order. « If you want to be a whore, then be a good whore and suck me off, yeah? Don’t give me those eyes, you want it. »

You sunk to your knees, tongue wetting your lips in anticipation for what was bound to come. And whilst your eyes were stuck on his form, your fingers were busy tugging down at his pants to reveal his grey underwear stained with pre-cum. The sight of this alone was enough to send yet another wave of arousal down to your core. And as his cock sprung free from the constriction of his boxers, his girth slapping against his exposed abdomen and the tip rouge from anticipation, you were convinced you could’ve come undone from the sight of this alone.

« Suck. » He ordered, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force your towards his aching cock and the veil of pre-cum coating the tip.

And thus it began. You flattened your tongue, drawing a large lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip where you finished with a few kitten licks, knowing damn well the head was where all the nerves devoted to pleasure were hidden. « Don’t tease and put your mouth to good use, whore. » Zoro said, almost betrayed by the groan threatening to be released.

Following the rules of performative language, you began to rock your head back and forth around his cock, making sure that your tongue was coating in a lustful love each inch of his girth whilst hums of pleasure were leaving your lips as you went. The hold of your hair in Zoro’s fist grew tighter and so did the metaphorical knots in his stomach as you went along, until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat— such enticing sensation earned a growl out of him. Fuck.

« F-Fuck. Look at what you’re doing to me… Ah! Shit. Enough! » He ordered, yanking your head away from his cock, and the sight of the corners of your mouth dripping with the sweet marriage of his pre-cum and your drool could have provoked an orgasm out of him at this very moment.

« It’s too soon, and it’d be giving you what you want, huh? Too fucking bad, I’m going to cum in that sweet pussy of yours and you’re gonna love it. Ya’ hear me? » He asked without really asking, and taken by a rush of lust, you could only nod in return. « Y-Yes. » You stuttered. « You’re missing something. » Zoro added. You swallowed thickly before adding « Yes, yes, sir. » Your response caused an ill-intentioned snicker to fall from his lips. « That’s right. Now get on your back, and make sure to be as loud as you can, I want everyone on this damn ship to hear how I can make you scream. »

Zoro’s glorious height forced you to lay back until your spine touched the mattress where all the sins would soon break free. The smirk on his face never left, a pure testimony of what all the sinful deeds he was bound to accomplish. You were now trapped between his forearms, hips circled by his knees— bending under his dominance. « Did you wear that for me? » Zoro asked, slapping the string of the bikini top against your skin.

« I d-did, it’s all for you because I’m all yours. » Your response caused a chuckle to break from his lips, sweet words feeding his ego some more. And in a flash, his fingers had ripped said bikini top in half (you made a mental note that you now owed a serious debt to Nami), and there you were, (almost) in all you bare glory. « Fuck, if only you knew the things you do to me. »

Zoro wasted no time and threw all caution out of the window as his mouth latched onto your breasts, the motions of his tongue around your bud causing your spine to pay homage to the moon from how arched it was. His pink muscle flickered around your nipple before he swallowed your breast whole, his drool covering your flesh in a sinful veil. And because he was such a giver for his pretty girl, he gave the same treatment to the other breast whilst gasps left your lips over and over again at the methodical motions of his tongue, your anatomy held no secret for him.

« Are you going shy on me now? Did you forget what I said? » He trailed off, reducing the space between his lips and your ear, « I said I want you to be fucking loud. »

And with that, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your stomach before tearing apart (once more) your poor martyr of a bikini bottom under your desperate attempts to keep it intact. Were you challenging him? Oh well… Zoro has always been the type to face any challenge thrown his way. « Zoro—… Sir, please! » You pleaded, not knowing really why.

« You’re such a desperate little thing, huh? » He leaned down to face your core, glistening in its lustful glory for him and him only. Zoro pressed a finger against your folds, dragging it vertically to obtain a finger pad covered in your slicks. « So fucking wet for me already? ‘Bet that shit cook can’t make you as wet as me. » He stated, confidence embedded in his every word. « Only you can make me feel this way, sir. » You replied before he crashed his lips onto yours in an uncharacteristically sweet manner to cut you off. « And why’s that? » The swordsman asked, already knowing the answer. « Because… Because I belong to you. » He pressed yet another kiss against your lips for having given the answer that had been lingering on his mind. « Good girl. »

Your reward came in the form of his tongue brushing your folds, flickering motions against your sensitive bud sending you in overdrive as continuous waves of pleasure washed over you ceaselessly, the knots in your stomach tightening each time his tongue touched you. Two of his digits poked your entrance, teasing you to let your torture last before they penetrated you. The sudden sensation caused you to let out a dragged whimper accompanied by his name coated in a sinful tone. « S-Sir please, please just fuck me— I can’t take the teasing, ahh, fuck, fuck! Please, please! » You begged, eyelids shutting close under the pleasure.

But your pleas fell in deaf ears as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, sucking onto your sensitive bud to build an orgasm within you that he was bound to deny. He knew you were close by the way you were holding his green hair, tugging him ever closer to your core to amplify the inferno burning within you. But alas, to your greatest displeasure, all the motions ceased in one go under the hint of mischief glowing in his eye.

« You’re gonna cum on my terms, and when I say so. Got it? » He seethed, knowing damn well that his own end was going to arrive soon. He gave his girth a few experimental pumps, allowing the pre-cum to cover his length before shoving the entirety of his cock in one go inside you, barely leaving enough time for your cunt to stretch correctly— and saying that a elongated moan left your lips was an euphemism, the sick grin plastered upon his face grew more and more as the sounds of pleasure drowned in his eardrums. « You’re so fucking tight, shit! » He breathed out, « Look at your pretty cunt swallowing me whole. »

The rhythm of his hips followed the scheme of a crescendo, each slam of his hips against your derrière drew a clearer portrait of both Zoro’s end and your own climax. The nature of the rhythm itself indicated that he was chasing after his own end, and with his head thrown back and his irises dilated under the hunger to satiate the raging fires breaking loose in his abdomen by the second. « S-Sir, it feels— Ah! It feels so good! »

The tip of his cock kissed ever so precisely the roof of your cervix where a panel of nerves designed to draw a lustful reaction out of you every time he thrusted into you. Your vision became more and more blurry until a liquid veil covered your eyes as pearls of tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Under the pressure of each of Zoro’s thrusts, your body bent to his will and soon you had no longer control over your legs that used to be around his waist, only to be picked up by the swordsman who threw your legs over his shoulder, thus allowing him to reach a deeper part in you and the cries leaving your lips were just the proof of how good he made you feel.

More and more cries echoed against the wooden walls of the room, your sounds of pleasure marrying the groans falling from his lips in a cascade. « Ah, fuck, fuck! R-Right there, please! Shit…! » You pleaded to fuel him some more. His nails were digging into the luscious flesh of your thighs, drawing rouge crescents in his wake.

« Who do you belong to? » He groaned out, his eye admiring the lustful look on your face.

« Y-You! I belong to you, fuck, you a-and no one else! » You attempted to reply mid-moan.

But as much as Zoro knew your anatomy, you also happened to be an expert of his— and the way he planted his nails into your skin, the raw groans loosing their chains to be set free and the way his thighs were shaking… Everything announced the beginning of his own end.

« Cum with me… Now! » He ordered, letting his hand crash against your buttcheek in the process. And there it was, the marriage of two lovers under the spell of lust. The rhythm of his thrusts reached their apex, all whilst he painted your walls with the white color of passion. His own cum was mixing with your own elixir of pleasure leaking from your throbbing core as your cunt was clenching around his cock in despair. The sounds of his hips slamming against yours were long gone now, the room was solely filled with heavy breaths and his name falling from your lips over and over again like a forbidden prayer.

Although Zoro’s stamina knew no bounds, he felt like the oxygen had been knocked off of his lungs. But perhaps it was the price to pay if it meant he could observe you in all your post-orgasm glory after holding it inside you for so long. God, he was so proud of you, proud of every mark he had left onto your skin, proud of the way your skin gleamed under the sweat, proud of being your lover.

« ’S alright, ’s alright. I’m going to pull out, breathe. » Zoro demanded, the sweet tone reserved for you only finding its way back around his words. His digits snaked around his girth to pull out of you, only to witness the satisfying marriage of your cum and his own. You were so good to him.

And whilst you remained unable to move, Zoro fell to your side, his arms quick to lock you into an embrace as your head rested on his chest, his frenetics heartbeats echoing in your eardrums. You loved the peace of the aftermath of any sexual activity involving Zoro, you loved how peace seemed to bend his facial features in the most enticing way.

He was the first one to break the silence, pressing his lips against your forehead whilst he tugged you impossibly closer to him like a reminder that you were indeed here, and would always be. « So whose plan was this, hah? » He asked, earning a giggle out of you in response. « It was Nami’s, although Robin helped too. She said I would one hundred percent ‘get laid’ if I wore this. » You answered, head tilting towards the poor green bikini torn in pieces.

« That witch can go to hell. » Zoro groaned, but the raw tone of his voice was betrayed by the sweet caresses of his digits down your forearm.

« I mean, her plan did happen so I think it’s a win for her. It’s not like you regret what happened, mhm? » Alas, nothing but silence in return. « Zoro? » You called him, but an angel passed. « Zoro! » You repeated more sternly, and this time you were met with the sound of his snores— of course, typical Zoro fashion.

Well, you knew who you were going to thank now.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Disagreement” - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Okay this might be stupid but it’s been in my head a really long time & I don’t write so I was wondering if you could do a Paul angst where his imprint is bellas sister & she chooses to stay by her when pregnant while of course they want to kill her? Too much?? 😂” 

A/N: I hope you enjoy what I did with this, I tried to make it a little less intense because I still find the situation so weird in breaking dawn ya know? also i’m off my game now that i’m going through a depressive episode once again so i hope what i gave you is at least a little enjoyable haha

“You have to what?” I blink, staring at Paul with wide eyes. 

“Sam says-” Paul tries but I cut him off. 

“You have to kill my sister, because Sam says?” I yell. 

“(Y/N), you know I have to listen, it’s out of my control.” 

“Paul, that is my sister. You’re talking about my sister and my niece or nephew. You’re talking about killing my family. How do you think I could be okay with this?” I seethe. 

“Baby, I know. But that baby isn’t a baby, it’s a demon.”

“No, we don’t know that. It’s a baby, Paul. I can’t believe you think I’ll be okay with this. As much as I’m not that fond of her, I can’t let you guys kill her.” I hiss. 

“I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have a choice. Alpha’s orders get obeyed whether we want to or not.” His teary eyes bored into mine. 

“Well, then don’t expect me to stay by and watch. I’m leaving, you’re free to come with but I’m not letting you do it.” I push past him, walking to our front door. 

“(Y/N), baby, please... You know I have to stay.” He pleads. 

“Well then I have to leave. And if you kill my sister and unborn niece or nephew or whatever it’ll be, don’t expect me to come back.” I slam the door shut, stomping my way over to my car. I started it, speeding out of there.

I soon found myself at the Cullen’s home, only to be met with an apprehensive Jacob, Leah, and Seth. Edward and Rosalie peered out the window at me. 

“I’m not here to cause any issues. I’m not here for Paul or Sam, I left. We had a disagreement.” I hold my hands up in surrender. 

“So are you and Paul okay?” Seth asks, looking at me with sad eyes.

“No, not if he tries to kill my sister and unborn family.” I huff, holding my tears back. 

“Well, we’re glad to have you around.” Jacob gives me a soft smile. 

I nod and make my way over to Leah, placing my head on her shoulder. 

The last few days without her, one of my best friends, was very difficult. I wasn’t told why they left exactly, but after Paul told me Sam’s plan, I was thankful for their support. 

“Thank you.” I murmur. 

“Couldn’t let Seth go off on his own.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder. 

“I know.” I smirk, knowing she hated Bella more than anyone else. 

Couldn’t necessarily blame her, though. 

“Are you okay?” Seth asks. 

“No. But I’ll be fine.” I smile sadly. “Can I see her?” 

Jacob looks over to the window, looking at Edward. Edward nods his head, causing Jacob’s gaze to fall back onto me. 

“Yeah, come on.” He nods, leading me into the massive house. 

I follow Jake, feeling all eyes on me. I then saw Bella sitting on the couch, a blanket covering her. 

“Hey.” She weakly smiles. 

“Hey, Bella. Long time no see.” I smirk, walking over. 

“I know, just... prepare yourself.” 

“For what?” I raise an eyebrow. 

But then I notice her face, all sunken in and hollow. Dark circles overtook her face, she looked like a walking corpse. 

“Rose.” She looks to see the blonde woman, holding out her hand. 

Rosalie walks over and helped her stand up. Bella’s state was absolutely astonishing. I couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping my lips when I noticed her seemingly malnourished frame stand up. She was skin and bones, except for her protruding belly, it was bigger than the rest of her. 

“Wow.” I exhale, trying to look her in the eye. 

“Yeah.” She smiles awkwardly. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Of course, I can’t sit back and let something happen to you.” I return her gesture. 

The next few days were unbearable. I was watching my sister die in front of my very eyes, adamant on having this child. Her husband torn with the outcomes of this situation, everyone was on edge. Jacob was having such a difficult time watching her die, it was simply a lot.

The tension in the house was unsettling. Everyone was so conflicted with the pregnancy, but ultimately it was Bella’s decision. A decision that none of us would be able to sway. I had a feeling this wouldn’t end well, but I was suffering more and more, as the bond between Paul and I was leaving me in severe pain.

I was ignoring his calls, his texts pleading me to come back to the reservation. My ignoring him didn’t get much done, eventually I just shut my phone off. It was too much, I was in too much pain. 

Emotionally, I was falling apart. Being apart from him was not only damaging me emotionally, it was causing me physical pain. I felt like my chest was on fire. 

I was growing sicker by the day, suffering without Paul. This bond really complicated already complicated situations. 

As I sat on the steps with Leah, Jake, and Seth, they perked up at the sound of rustling in the trees. 

“Why are they here?” Leah asks. 

“I don’t know.” Seth shrugs. 

They all began to stand up, and I followed behind. To my surprise, I saw Jared, Collin, and Brady walking out of the treeline. 

Brady looked at me, noticing my exhausted face. He stared a little too much.

“What are you guys here for?” Jake asks. 

“Sam sent us. We’re here to give you a final opportunity, a final warning.” Jared says with a stern face. 

“We’re not coming back.” Seth says deliberately. 

After some less than pleasant conversation, the trio left hastily. 

“Weird choice of who to send.” Seth tilted his head. 

“I thought it was weird, too. I thought he’d send Paul, Embry, and Quil.” I shrug. 

“No, he doesn’t trust they’d stay loyal to him. He knows they’d join us.” Leah purses her lips. 

“You’re right.” Jacob agrees. 

“Brady was checking in on you, it looked like. Paul might’ve told him to.” Leah says. 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

Sleeping was difficult, once again. I was seemingly falling apart at the seams. It was breaking my heart that Paul was on Sam’s side. It broke my heart to know that the love of my life was betraying me and my wishes. I understand that he can’t disobey Sam and leave his pack, but Jake, Seth, and Leah left to do what was right. 

I was tossing and turning in my bed, but I had heard a bit of rustling outside of my window, followed by voices. 

I got up, looking out the window to see Jake, Seth, Leah, and Edward talking to Embry, Quil, and Paul. 

I felt my stomach drop as I heard Paul yell at Jake. 

“I need to see her! It’s not about Sam anymore.” He hisses. 

I heard the rest of them talking, though it was too quiet for me to hear. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the fuming figure standing in front of Jacob. Almost fighting him to get to me. 

Until our eyes met. I watched as his face softened and a small smile appeared on his place. He looked at me before looking back to Edward, pushing through everyone to get through into the house. 

Everyone watched as he entered the house, looking up at me with a soft smile. 

I turned around as I heard hurried footsteps approach the room I was staying in. The door burst open and I saw an exhausted looking Paul, the bags under his eyes matched mine.  

“I missed you so much, baby.” Paul whispers, hurrying over to hold my face in my hands. 

“Paul... I can’t do this if you’re here to kill my sister.” 

“If I was here to kill your sister, do you think I would’ve been let into the house? I’m here for you. I left Sam’s pack. The three of us did, he doesn’t know yet.” He rushes. 

I grabbed him, pulling him closer to me. I pressed my lips against his, hungrily. I couldn’t bring myself to let go of him. I felt the warmth of his body pressed against my own. 

“He won’t do anything with most of the pack leaving. He can’t do it with all of us gone. I know it.” He whispers, pulling me close. 

“Good.” 

The next few days were easier, though we still worried about an ambush from Sam’s pack. 

Bella was growing increasingly ill, but Jacob’s snarky thought found us a solution. She needed to drink blood. It was absolutely nauseating, but it really seemed to help. 

Paul’s presence made things easier for me, but it was still gruesome. It was difficult and tensions only rose as the days went past. 

Though, Paul was right. Sam’s pack was outnumbered and when they showed up, they realized they weren’t fit to get to Bella and Renesmee. They showed up after Brady’s spying found Bella to have been dead. 

But we had proven that the baby was not a threat, after I clutched her in my arms. 

They couldn’t do anything to the baby without hurting me. I couldn’t be touched. I was sacred, so thanks fate for saving all of us. Even if I hated my niece’s name. 

Thanks fate for Paul. _________________________________ Word Count: 1559

[turtle-steverogers]

hii, it's the unsent project anon again!! sometimes i think about steve. instead of going back in time for yk, he goes back in time to see his mother again. and has a dance with his mother because he never got to before for several reasons. it would be more rocking from foot to foot than anything else. and steve can barely see through his clumped up lashes from the tears while she strokes the side of his head before cradling it (its a bit of a stretch because he is all big and healthy now) while muttering, "my stevie, my boy" and steve just grins "it's me, ma".

(he would come back after spending some time with her, with a heavy heart but still)

was thinking about this at like 3 in the morning

anon i genuinely think you're trying to murder me lakjdflksjfaskdjflksf

anyway i wrote another fic

-

There are extra white jackets in the back closet, and Steve steals one that’s approximately his size, despite the shoulders being a bit too tight. Pants are a little harder to come by, but he manages to find a pair that look like they’ll fit him in some poor chap’s locker. He tugs them on, grimacing at the way they hug his thighs and fall only to his ankles. They’ll have to do.

He’d already scoped out the hospital the night before-- he knows she’s on the third floor in a private ward. Good, he thinks. She deserves it, if nothing else.

He is focused as he moves through the halls, head down as he passes other nurses. There’s a clipboard discarded on a table near the children’s ward and he swiftly picks it up, squinting at it. He doesn’t process any of the words on the page, but his act seems sound, because nobody stops him.

He makes it to the stairwell at the end of the hall, pushes open the door and takes the steps two at a time. The smell is one that is achingly familiar-- the walls grey and hazy. The air seems thicker, the lights yellow and dim. And though he’s been removed from the past for over a decade, it still feels like home. Like normal. His normal.

But he does not belong anymore, and he will not stay. He’s already been a ghost once. He’s hesitant to be one again.

Especially now, when he is out there somewhere. Most likely in the shitty tenement he shared with Bucky, but also possibly at the grocer he worked at, his ma’s telegram in his pocket. Savoring the bits of her that he could salvage with the knowledge he’d never see her again, even while she’s alive.

Closure has been something Steve always felt he lacked. But he’s seen hell now-- lived in its fiery pits for more years than he can count. He can take some goddamn closure for himself.

The third floor is nearly vacant. No one is in the hallway when Steve steps out of the stairwell, but he can hear voices in the rooms that line the sides. Coughs echo ominously off the walls, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes, a brief wave of anxiety washing over him. He hadn’t missed these hospitals, and he’d hoped to never deliberately step foot in one again. But this is necessary. This is worth it.

He walks swiftly towards the end of the hall where the private wards are and stops in front of the first room. The name next to the door is incorrect, so he continues on until he sees it, heart stopping in his chest, then speeding up enough to make his lungs tighten.

Sarah Rogers-- TB. Alternative uniform required.

Steve closes his eyes against the blood rushing from his head. He wants to tell himself it’s been so long since he’s felt this detached from reality-- this out of place in a space that should feel so familiar-- but it hasn’t. The feeling, he’s realizing, never truly left him when he woke up from the ice, and the reverse here is strange.

And there’s something even stranger about reconciling this, because he’d lost his ma far before he’d ever died. This grief is an old wound-- one that’s scabbed over only to bleed circumstantially. He’d grown used to living with this particular, bone deep pain. He isn’t sure if he’s here to lance that, or if he’ll walk away with a deeper wound. He isn’t sure it matters, either.

He pushes open the door.

The room is lit with natural light. There is a desk with a vase and a water pitcher on it, along with a few medicine bottles and a tissue box. The bed is pressed against the far wall, the covers barely disturbed save for the frail figure that lies in it.

Sarah turns her head and looks at Steve.

Steve’s world stops.

He hadn’t seen his ma when she was this ill. His last memories of her are of when she was healthy-- cheeks red and full of life, eyes alight with an optimism he still valiantly tries to uphold. Life had not been kind to Sarah Rogers, but she was the kindest soul Steve had ever known, even in the shadow of his father’s violence.

Is, he corrects himself as he looks at her. She is the kindest soul. She’s there. She’s right there.

She’s right there, and she looks weak. She is gaunt and frail, eyes sunken in and cheekbones sharp against papery looking skin. There’s an exhaustion in the lines of her young face that Steve recognizes as the long standing effects of illness-- your body praying to be done fighting while your mind begs otherwise.

Steve resists the urge to turn and run.

Sarah’s face does something strange as she looks at Steve, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for longer than would be normal for a nurse-- shell shocked and silent. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, eyes widening as she seems to process what she’s looking at. Or who she’s looking at, most likely.

A wizened hand comes up to cover her mouth and she gasps, fear flashing through her eyes and no, no, no--

Fuck, he’d thought of this. He’d had a fucking plan for this, but he can’t remember it now and he really doesn’t want his ma calling security on him, because he has so much to say, and--

“Ma,” he says frantically, taking an aborted step forward. She shies away and he stops, hands flexing at his sides. “Ma, it’s me. I swear it’s me, I can explain.”

Sarah looks suddenly furious. “This is not funny, young man. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this instant.”

Fuck, her voice. Her goddamn voice, as weak as it is now, still has the same strong cadence. The subtle Irish twang. And fuck, Steve can’t help it. He bursts into tears.

“Fuck,” he says, falling to his knees. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could stomach the weight of everything that’s happened since he last saw her-- handle standing in front of her with blood on his hands, underneath his fingernails. In his goddamn soul. What would she even think of him now?

He sobs, biting down on a knuckle to keep silent, his other arm going around his stomach. It’s how he used to cry when he was much younger, and more frantic, and that seems to convince Sarah more than anything.

“Steven?” she says. She sounds incredulous. Damnit, she probably thinks she’s hallucinating. Steve had hallucinated a couple times when he was ill enough and his fever was high. Mostly his father, but he’ll digress.

He looks up, and he can barely see her through the tears that clump on his eyelashes. Sarah’s face does something complicated, then softens, and she reaches out a hand. Steve looks at it and sobs harder.

“Oh, Stevie. My boy, come here,” she says, because maybe he is a goddamn hallucination, but her instinct was always to comfort those in pain. She was a nurse, after all.

Steve is goddamn helpless.

He manages to get to her bedside, chest heaving as he buries his face in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s me, ma. I promise it’s me. I can explain, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that you can explain,” Sarah says sternly, and fuck, he’d missed her chastising him. He can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and watery. “What happened to you? Why are you--” Big. Healthy. “Steven, you can’t be in here. I’m highly contagious.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t matter. I can’t get sick.” And oh, his accent is back. He hasn’t had one in years. Decades. A goddamn century.

Sarah lets out a strangled laugh that quickly turns into coughing, and Steve briefly wonders how close she is to death. She died in Winter, and it is sometime in Fall right now. Close then, he thinks. He hugs her harder as the coughing dies down.

“A stór, do you hear yourself? You had pneumonia last Summer.”

Summer. Last Summer. In this world, it had only been a mere few months without her. A fresh wave of grief washes over Steve, and then he can’t help another laugh, then another, and suddenly he’s cracking up into her stomach. Laughing like the insane man he feels he often is.

Sarah freezes, then reaches out to lift his face, their eyes meeting. His laughing stops. She gasps again.

“It really is you,” she murmurs, thumbs moving to the outside corners of his eyes, where there are two identical freckles. Little stars, she used to call them.

Steve offers her a brave smile. “Yeah, ma. It is.”

Sarah shakes her head. “What happened?” she asks again.

“I… so much,” Steve breathes. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I-- I don’t know where to start, but god, I just wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

Sarah studies his face. “You’re so tired,” she says, thumb stroking his eye again. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. His lip trembles.

“So tired,” he agrees.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” Sarah says. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I just… Steven, you look so different.”

Steve laughs, wiping at his eyes. “In a few years, there’s a war,” he says. Blunt-- they’d always been so straightforward with each other. “A scientist-- god, please don’t be mad-- a scientist offered, or… offers? Offered me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Of course you did,” Sarah murmurs, looking fond and angry despite. She seems to set that train of thought aside. “Germany?” and oh, right. It’s already been in the news, the new reign.

“Yeah.”

Sarah hums. “My dear, you look like you’ve seen more than just war.”

Just war. As if any war was just anything.

As if his war ever truly stopped.

He casts his gaze down.

“Yeah,” he says again, and he thinks of Bucky, who’s also yet to come home from the war. Bucky, who is probably somewhere at the docks right now, untouched by anything but insecurity and financial hell. He desperately wishes they both can soon. This visit, he hopes, will bring him one step closer.

Sarah must read his mind, because her face clouds over.

“Bucky…?”

“Survives,” Steve says quickly, then backtracks. “Kind of. We both kind of died, then came back to life in the future and--” Sarah looks horrified now, and Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. We’re together.”

“Alright,” Sarah says slowly. “As long as you’re together.”

Steve nods, and fuck, he wishes he could have brought Bucky, too. Sam as well-- showed his ma his new friends. The brave new family he’s made for himself. The thought has his eyes swimming again, and he screws up his face, trying not to cry. He’s a goddamn mess. It’s ridiculous.

“I must admit, I’m quite confused,” Sarah says. “And sweetheart, you’re not talking.”

Steve shakes his head, and her arms come around him. He melts into the hold-- savors the feeling. Memorizes the pressure, her smell, and pockets it away for later.

“I just missed you so much is all,” he croaks. “And I-- ma… I’ve done so much. I’ve hurt so many people. Killed so many people, and I still feel so lost, and everything hurts and oh Christ, I’ve just-- I miss you.”

He had sworn to himself, before coming in, that he wouldn’t unload any of this onto her. But her warmth is all encompassing, and he craves her comfort. Her approval. Her strong, sure tone telling him everything will be okay.

That he will be okay. He has to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

“Lord’s name,” Sarah murmurs, and Steve huffs another laugh. She runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I do know you, dearheart. And I know that you are a good person. A gentle person-- my gentle boy, if you’d had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen violence. But you know more than anyone how mean the world can be. You might have had to make hard decisions, done bad things, but you, Steven, are not bad.”

Steve’s lips part. It doesn’t fix everything, the words-- it barely scrapes the surface of the wall of pain and guilt that suffocates him. But for a moment, the world seems clearer. Quieter. The ache in his chest lanced for one, freeing breath.

“Ma…” Steve says. He doesn’t know how to thank her-- what to say-- because here she is, offering him warmth and closure, even though she might still think he’s nothing but a figment of her imagination. He craves her compassion; her generosity. Swears to uphold it as best he can.

You always stand up, she once told him. He will still, he thinks. He always will. And he will now.

He’ll go home to his family-- his life-- and goddamn live finally. He’s been surviving for so long, he realizes. It’s about damn time for him to stand up and live.

“You’ve still got the same heart,” Sarah continues. She pokes his freckles again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve lifts a hand to cover hers. Her hands are as soft as they always were and he turns his face to kiss her knuckles, then leans forward to kiss her cheek, eyes closing as memories of doing that before running off to school or to play flash through his mind. She smells faintly of vanilla. He wonders if she still dabs it behind her ears.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, ma. I love you. I love you so much-- thank you for being there for me. For raising me, and loving me.”

Sarah hugs him. Outside the room, there are voices; shuffling. He needs to go. The window is open, and they’re only three floors up.

“Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done,” Sarah says. She looks at the door. The voices are closer now. She kisses his forehead. Another echo of a life long gone. “Go now, Steven. Go home.”

Steve looks at her one last time, drinking in the love in her eyes. And as he climbs out the window, the too-tight doctor’s coat ripping around the shoulder seams, he can’t help but think that he’d gotten her eyes right whenever he’d painted her.

Her love won’t be something so easily forgotten.

-

Bucky catches him before he can collapse as he reappears on the launch pad. He lowers them to the ground, cradling Steve’s head with and letting him practically climb into his lap as he weeps, overwhelmed.

After a few minutes, he pulls back. Bucky’s watching him, concerned, and Steve leans in to gently kiss him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, wary as they pull apart. He reaches out to swipe some tears off Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says. “All the stones are back-- everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Relief washes over Bucky’s face and he kisses Steve, smiling. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “Thank god.”

Steve wraps his arms around his neck, humming in agreement. Sam and Bruce are somewhere-- Steve can hear them talking-- but it’s distant.

They’re quiet for a long time, breathing in each other. Bucky’s arms feel so goddamn safe that Steve feels his resolve slipping again. He can tell Bucky things. He can be here with him now. Home.

“I went to see her,” he whispers.

Bucky stills where he was previously rocking them lightly.

“Her…” Bucky says, then shifts. “Your ma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bucky squeezes him tighter. “How-- how was that? How did she…”

“She was confused. I don’t even know if she knew I was real.”

Bucky pauses, then kisses behind his ear. Steve thinks of vanilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

“No, it was-- good. Needed. I feel… good.”

“That’s so good, honey.”

“She asked about you-- wanted to know if you were, um, alive. I told her you were.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and there’s a small smile on his face now. Bucky had loved Sarah as if she were another mother, and Steve had done the same with Winnifred. It was a privilege to have had both of their protective arms. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘as long as we’re together’.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve wants to reach out and touch, so he does, because he can do that now. Bucky is tangible. He is here.

“She’s got a point,” Bucky says. He goes back to rocking them and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. He hears Bucky start to say something, then stop.

“What?” he asks, pulling back.

Bucky studies him. “Did you want to stay?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious, and Steve considers it.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Just… instinctively. It’s an opportunity I might have taken up if someone offered it ten years ago, but… I’m a ghost there now, like I was a ghost here, and I don’t want to do that again.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Bucky nods, cupping Steve’s cheek and thumbing his jaw affectionately. “I hear you,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

“And besides, my ma told me to go home before I left,” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s cheek in return. “So I did.”

Bucky smiles, and presses their foreheads together.

“We can do that now,” Bucky says. “We can go home. We can rest.”

And there are still things to do-- Steve doesn’t think there ever won’t be things to be done. But that can wait for another day.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s grungy, dirt digging in bone deep from the whirlwind of the last few weeks. He smirks, climbing off Bucky’s lap. “But I call first shower.”

Bucky snorts and stands, pulling Steve up.

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

Yeah. The world can wait another day.

-

There’s a bottle of vanilla in the spice cabinet. Steve sees it as he’s looking for the cinnamon. The kitchen is empty, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s not alone.

He takes the vanilla out and dabs some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it behind his ears. He closes his eyes, letting the smell wash over him. He can still feel his ma’s arms around him, keeping him warm.

Home. He’s home.

-

thanks for reading yall aflkdjflaksjdf

[d0llpie]

hey can i request prompt 47 with tanaka also super angsty like i want to cry

Miscarriage

tanaka x reader

Prompt: “i lost the baby”

Trigger warnings: miscarriage, heavy angst, like really a whole lot of painful angst just angst

a/n: thanks for the request, i hope you cry <3 I will be making a part 2 btw

wc: 2.6k part 2

You were arguing with Tanaka, again. It started when he came home around an hour ago, three hours past when you planned a date with him. It had taken ages for you to convince him to go on a proper date since he was always ‘busy’. You needed to tell him you were pregnant, wanted to celebrate with him. Instead you were left with 50 unread messages and Tanaka waltzing in the house as if nothing was wrong. When he came and kissed you on the cheek “hey baby” like nothing had happened you snapped. “Where the fuck were you Ryu?” you stood up from the kitchen bench and begun throwing accusation after accusation at him while he just stood shocked, belittling you for ‘overreacting’ at his ‘simple mistake’.

“Oh you want me to apologize for being stood up? Hm?” You throat felt raw from the screaming, desperately just wanting him to apologize and tell him about the baby so you could make up and move on. Tanaka, stubborn as ever, wouldn’t let that happen. “I never said that, you’re working yourself up, stop stressing yourself out.” His calm tone only irked you even more, he could at least pretend to care. “What were you doing that had you so pre-occupied? Or should I ask who?” he snapped his head towards you, visibly annoyed, at least you finally caught his full attention. “What the fuck y/n? Are you seriously accusing me of cheating because I forgot about your stupid date? You know we can go on a date any other time why are you acting like such a bitch right now? Fuck sake you’re so dramatic.” You fought back the tears in your eyes, slamming your fist down on the table “When was the last time we went on a date- a real one? I wanted to spend some time with you ALONE for once to talk to you, but instead you can’t even tell me why you were soo busy to even send me a text cancelling.” A few stray tears slipped out in frustration, but you continued to glare at him, egging him on further. “I was out with some friends Jesus y/n, why do you have to bring your insecurities into everything.” You were hit with a wave of nostalgia, he’d said that line to you when you started dating in high school.

“Tanaka, hey baby, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my class to eat lunch today, I want to tell you something” You smiled up at your boyfriend as he smiled back “Of course baby! I gotta go to practice, want to come watch?” he pecked your cheek quickly, smiling widely at you proudly “Oh sorry, I have to study for a text next period but I’ll see you at lunch!” his face dropped but the bell rang, signaling your next class “Bye Tanaka!” you waved cheerily as he walked back towards the gym.

y/n: Hi, I’m in my class for lunch now :) see you soon <3

read

You frowned holding the homemade lunch you had wanted to give him. After around 15minutes you realized he wasn’t coming. You went to the gym to see if he was there with Noya, you entered the gym and found them both watching Kiyoko with lovesick expressions on their faces, spewing out compliments profusely. “Tanaka.. hey” he looked over to see you in the doorway “Y/N, hey! What’s up?” you stood there in shock for a minute before clearing your throat “Um can I talk to you?” he looked over at Kiyoko who was ignoring Nishinoya before reluctantly making his way over to you. “How come you didn’t come to lunch” you frowned lightly and he sighed “Its not like you came to my practice either, plus, I was hanging out with my friends, don’t bring your insecurities into this I told you Kiyoko doesn’t like me.” He pouted and you felt your heart clench. “Do you still like her?” you whispered and although he heard you, he pretended he didn’t. You plastered on a fake smile before retreating to the classroom, ignoring his texts and calls for the rest of the day until he brought you a bouquet of roses the next day. It was your first of multiple fights over his obvious crush on his manager. Eventually you got sick of the fighting and sappy make-ups so you just ignored it, knowing he could never have her and was with you because he loved you. Right?

“Fine. I’m sorry for accusing you, I’m not sorry for everything else, why won’t you just fucking talk to me!” The exhaustion from fighting was catching up with you and you began to feel light-headed. “Because it’s not a big deal y/n! Wait-what’s wrong?” you sighed, leaning against the wall “It’s the fucking baby and this stupid fight what do you think.” You spat at him and he stopped thinking for a moment. “Baby?” you looked up to see him smiling nervously at  you “Yeah you’d have known if you hadn’t stood me up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose “we’re having a baby, can you let this go?” you scoffed, done with this fight you stormed up to your shared bedroom, crawling into bed and staying as far from his side as possible. You placed a hand over your stomach, softly crying into the pillow while Tanaka stayed downstairs, opting to sleep on the couch.

Noya: Yoo how’d y/n take it?

Tanaka: she’s pregnant

Noya: oh shit, what’re you gonna do

Tanaka: what do you mean what am I gonna do? Raise a baby I guess, fuck idk man

Noya: that’s tough, Kiyoko is staying at mine😍 pray for me bro🙏🏼😩

Tanaka: lucky, i’m on the fucking couch

Noya: sucks🥶

He sighed before turning his phone off, fuck.

The next day you woke up to breakfast in bed and a very happy Tanaka smiling at you, “good morning, how are my babies feeling?” you wanted to roll your eyes and stay mad but you couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when he referred to you and your child as his babies. “good morning ryu..what’s all this?” you were expecting an apology like usual, or at least for him to acknowledge what happened “You’re eating for two now I guess! When’s your next appointment?” he seemed really freaked out so you placed a hand over his “next week, are you feeling okay?” you pressed the back of your hand against his forehead, he felt fine just a little sweaty. “I’m good, want to go out for dinner after work?” you were hesitant but nodded “You’ll come right?” it’s like his mood did a 180 when you said that “What’s that supposed to mean” he spoke through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm and collected. “You know…yesterday?” he scoffed “still hung up on that huh? You gonna berate me for every mistake I make when this baby pops out of you?” you were wide awake now “woah wait, I didn’t say that-“ “you accuse me of stuff, why can’t I do the same?” his tone was growing angrier by each syllable he spoke. You looked down in your lap, feeling your eyes well up with tears again. “Tanaka please stop” you whispered and he snapped “Yeah doesn’t feel great when you just want to stop but they keep going huh?” you don’t even remember why he was getting worked up, because you didn’t want him to stand you up again? You fiddled with your fingers and zoned out while he continued yelling.

You finally looked up when you heard the bedroom door close, breathing in deeply before hunching over as a sharp pain in your abdomen stopped you from making any big or sudden movements. You groaned out in pain, stopping Tanka immediately. Tanaka ran a hand over his head stressfully “are you okay? Shit. Uh, I’m going to call an ambulance” you groaned again “Call Yachi, she can take me I think we need some-“ tears pricked your eyes and you started to sweat “space, I’ll call you when I’m there.” You could see his eyes well up with tears. His hands were opening and closing, wanting to hold you but knowing better than to do that.

Yachi came over shortly after and lead you to the car. Tanaka saw the blood on your shorts and held his breath, letting a few tears roll down his cheeks. You were silent in the car over, crying softly and groaning in pain every few minutes. Yachi looked over worriedly at you, holding your hand and letting you squeeze her hand for reassurance. “Y/n don’t move ill get a nurse to help you out.” You arrived through the emergency section of the hospital and texted Tanaka

y/n: I’m going into the emergency room now

tanaka: okay, let me know what’s happening

He shut off his phone with a shaky breath, deciding to call his friends over.

Tanaka: Noya?

Noya: hey bro what’s up

Tanaka: Y/n’s in the hospital, can you come over?

Noya: What happened? Kiyoko is here man..

Tanaka: Bring her here, I don’t know what happened she started bleeding and crying

Noya: wtf? Did you hit her?

Tanaka: You know I’d never do that. I think it’s the baby…

Noya: We’re on our way, we have whiskey

Tanaka heard knocking and made his way to the door, he opened it to see Noya and Kiyoko there. “Hey, thank you both for coming.” he stepped aside to let them enter “So how’d the break-up go, is she okay?” he looked quizzically at Noya “You didn’t tell her?” he shook his head “sorry, we were watching a movie..” Tanaka looked unamused by Noya before turning to Kiyoko “We started fighting about me hanging with you guys instead of our date and she told me she was pregnant” Kiyoko looked at him disappointedly “You left a pregnant girl?!” it was unusual for Kiyoko to raise her voice but she felt horrible your you, she knew how much you loved Tanaka and she always felt guilty in high school for what you had to put up with, because of her. “What? No! I didn’t break up with her because she’s pregnant but now...I don’t know, she was bleeding and in pain and she’s in the emergency room now..” Kiyoko was restraining from slapping him, digging her nails into her palms. “Why aren’t you with your pregnant girlfriend, it’s bad enough you don’t love her and now this? You know a baby requires actually raising a human?” He dropped his head down, “I know, I already feel horrible…what if something’s happening to the baby?” he sat down on the couch, taking the bottle from Noya’s hand and taking a swig. “You can still raise a baby and not be together…” Noya spoke up, sitting down next to him while Kiyoko turned the tv on. “It’s not fair on you guys or the baby if you stay together.” He knew he was right, he’d been putting this off for too long, he settled for you and got comfortable with the live you showed him that eventually he stopped showing it back. He can’t remember when he fell out of love but he didn’t want to leave you, he loved you still he just wasn’t in love with you. Deep down you knew, you never let yourself think that for long though. Afraid you’ll end up leaving him, Yachi had tried to get you to leave before but you could never stand the idea. Lately it was like you were already broken up, two awkward college roommates. The idea of raising a baby with him scared you, you were so stressed and sick of overthinking that you passed out in the hospital after a few hours, forgetting to call Tanaka.

You stepped out of the car, hesitating to close the door as you breathed in deeply. It was around 4pm the next day and you had just been discharged from the hospital. “Do you want me to wait here?” Yachi asked from the drivers seat, her eyes were red and puffy, she’d been up all night holding your hand and crying with you. “I think it’ll be okay…why is Kiyoko’s car here?” your eyes stuck to the black car in the driveway that you knew was Kiyoko’s “y/n, i’m gonna wait here you should go inside hes probably worried…” you nodded before approaching the front door. Your legs felt like lead as you stepped up to the door, taking your key out and unlocking the door.

“Ryu?” you moved further into the house, seeing a passed out Tanaka on the couch across from a passed out Kiyoko. “Tanaka.” You said a little louder, making him stir.

Noya came into the living room from behind you “hey y/n, how are you?” he looked hungover and that’s when you noticed the empty bottles on the floor. “Hi noya- Tanaka!” you yelled this time, waking up both Kiyoko and Tanaka. “Y/n? heyyy, how was the hospital?” he yawned and sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. You wanted to run to him and hold him, but you stopped yourself, trying not to focus on how tight your chest felt and the tears building up in your eyes again. “Y/n?” you heard Kiyoko’s soft voice from beside you and you broke down into tears, she caught you before you fell and moved you to the couch, rubbing your back. “I lost the baby.” You continued to cry as the other three in the room sat frozen. “Y/n, i’m so sorry, i’m so so sorry, I’ll come back later but I think we should go…Noya?” Kiyoko hugged you tightly before grabbing Noya and exiting the house.

Tanaka was silent, tears rolling down his cheeks. “What happened y/n?” he avoided looking in your eyes “they said it was because of stress…Tanaka I can’t take this anymore..” you sniffled looking in your lap. He looked up to see how tired and broken you looked, feeling his heart clench. “Y/n, I swear Kiyoko and Noya came over to hang out, I don’t have feelings fo-“ “It’s not about your feelings for her, it’s about your feelings for me…I need you to be honest” he gripped your hand, his lip quivering “I don’t want to lose you y/n…” “You aren’t in love with me Tanaka, i’m not stupid” you chuckled softly, rubbing the rest of your tears away. His silence said enough and so you stood up. “Y/n, don’t go” you scoffed “you can’t keep doing this to me, making me stay with you like this” you commended yourself on the way your voice didn’t waver. “I know, I know, but I-“ he stopped himself, knowing he couldn’t stop you. “I still care about you, I always will.” You nodded, cupping his cheek softly “I know baby, I love you Ryu.”

You walked back outside and sat in the passenger seat of Yachi’s car. You put on some music and she looked over at you before driving away, not asking any questions.

Tanaka sat on the floor of his lounge room, staring into his hands and crying, you were really gone and he couldn’t fix it, it was him who pushed you away anyway. It was him who had to deal with it now.

   a/n: sorry for writing this, i might make a happy ending part 2, send me ideas if you would like to see that <3

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest, 15

Masterlist

CW: shocked, creepy parental whumper trying to recapture whumpee, blood, cutting out a tracker implied

Walter’s vision slowly returned, he found himself lying on the splintery cabin floor, his head a throbbing mess. He struggled to his knees with a hand rubbing the knot on the side of his head, he felt dried blood sticking to his hair. 

“Mm.. mm?” He mumbled, rapidly blinking his eyes.

Then he snapped to reality.

He remembered Malady, the fight, the struggle. Gabriel... Where was Gabriel!? Malady was completely off her rails, Gabriel could be in danger! 

“G-Gabe!” He choked out, clearing his throat.

“Gabriel!?” He called again, his voice echoing through empty halls. He staggered to his feet, making his way to Gabriel's room. The door had been broken down, the wood broken into shards of splinters littering the floor.

“N-no..” He rasped. Defeated, he collapsed to his knees, his head falling on his son’s empty bed. 

She... took his only son. He was so weak he couldn’t even protect his own child.

His own sister... came into his home and took what was his. The only thing valued in this world.

“No...” He growled, his eyes glared open. 

I won’t let her get away with it.

He manages to make it to his room, collapsing on his bed as he dug through a drawer for the transmitter. “Come on... Come on! Where are you?” He muttered. It flickered on as it showed he was already far far away from home. 

“Oh, Dove. You must be so frightened.” He whispered. He packs up the transmitter in his coat pocket. He hasn't driven in such a long time, much less gone out in public.

But Gabriel was in danger. There was nothing that could stop him from returning him home, safe and sound.

He throws the tattered blue tarp off his car, his hands tremble as he grips the steering wheel, his eyes darting nervously at all the controls and levers. After many aggressive key turns, curses and banging fists, the car chokes to a start. He hits the gas a little too hard as he jolts forward with a screech. 

The transmitter sits on the passengers seat, his eyes glancing at it every split second. Malady's most likely taking Gabriel to the police station, he has to make it before she gets that far.

He’s still so far away...

He takes a shaky breath, his hands wringing stressfully around the wheel as his foot presses the gas further.

He’s not going to make it.

This is the only window to get his son back. If he loses him now, he’s gone...

A tear streaks down his face as he hesitantly takes the transmitter in hand, his thumb grazing the shock button.

If he could just delay them... Only for a moment... Then there's still a chance.

His thumb slightly touches the button. 

Gabriel. Is. His. Responsibility.

His burden. 

“Forgive me, my Dove.” He rasped. His thumb hits the button, another tear streaks down his cheek as he remorsefully exhales from holding his breath. As predicted, the tracker comes to a complete stop on the side of the road. 

“Yes!” He hisses, he doesn’t turn the shock off as he sets it back down, speeding up.

A minute passes, the tiny dot is still unmoving. He’s not far now as his left foot is tapping impatiently. 

*beep!*

“Wha-?” He takes a double glance at the tracker, the dot is nowhere to be found.

“No.... No no no no!” He hollers, slamming on the brakes as he grabs the tracker in both hands. 

“No... It can’t be-... This can’t be right!” He cries. He begins hyperventilating, his hand on his chest feeling his heartbeat pound. 

What do I do?!

What can I do?

His hand takes the wheel as he continues down the road blindly, his eyes blank and exhausted. 

Then they catch something. A small silver car with a unique license plate, a combat medic military sticker proudly stamped on the back besides the ‘the closer you are, the slower I drive’ sticker.

His eyes go wide as he slowly pulls behind them.

-

Malady pulls into the driveway to the tall apartment building.

"Hey Gabe, how are you doing back there?" She asks with a gentle voice. He doesn't respond, but blankly stares out the window, hardly acknowledging the blood dripping down his neck. 

"Come on, you have to leave this on." She quietly scolds, taking the cloth and pressing it against his neck as he winces. She takes his arm, helping him from the car.

"Where are we?" He mutters with a tiny voice, his eyes slowly following the height of the building.

"Somewhere safe, for now..." She mutters, skeptically scanning the road for any signs of her brother. When she turns around, Gabriel is sitting beside the flower bed, his gaze admiring the colorful plants. 

"I used to have a garden..." He whispers. Malady smiles as she sits next to him. "Do you miss it?"

"Yeah... It looked just like this." His bloody fingertips graze the tulip petals. "They probably all died by now... What a shame. I was so proud of it." 

"Well, when you get home you'll have a project to work on." She smiles, a hand touching his shoulder.

"Yeah." 

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry  @whump-it @kixngiggles @as-a-matter-of-whump  @five-fictions-5-9 @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @thelazywitchphotographer  @sophierose002 @happy-whumper @cowboy-anon

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

[camthesolemnone]

Hi, it's like, 11PM, but I just thought of 3 more promising for you:

1: Nightmares. One of them end up eating g nightmares after their married (the severity of it is up to you), and ends up waking up/getting woken up by the other. They try to help them calm down, and yeah.

Hurt/comfort style, bay-beeeee

Crap I made this nightmare a lot more hurtful than I probably should have. Poor Heavy :<

Warnings for violence, harsh insults, and a mention of sex (not explicit).

Also you mentioned "after they're married" so I'm assuming you mean Misha and Josef. No quarrels here, I'll take any excuse to write about them again.

Scout stood in front of him, tapping his foot and his metal baseball bat against the pavement in an irritated fashion. He had stolen yet another one of Heavy's sandwiches and the giant was determined to get it back. What threw Misha off, however, was the man's sudden stop.

It seemed like he wasn't planning on running away anymore.

"So, tons o' fun, you ready to fight me like a man?" Jeremy taunted, shifting back and forth on his feet in a battle-ready position.

The Russian glared at the Bostonian and cracked his knuckles.

"You are the baby man here. All you do is run like big coward. Heavy will show you real strength!" He shot back.

Scout's smirk and the way he twirled his bat in front of himself held not just confidence, but an overwhelming amount of spite. Misha was almost paralyzed by the man's unforeseen change in demeanor.

"Does a real man just sit at home and bang his gay husband while his ma 's dying and his sisters are tryna fend for themselves?"

Suddenly, that state of paralysis came true. Heavy's blood ran cold while his heart sped up to an unhealthy level.

"How...what--it is not like...I DID NOT KNOW SHE WAS ON HER DEATH BED! IT HAPPENED SO SUDDENLY THAT EVEN SISTERS DID NOT KNOW!" He shouted, stepping forward to grab Scout by the collar and knock his lights out, "how do you even know of these things? I never--"

Misha was stunned back into silence. His hand went straight through Jeremy's body, and the nimble runner reeled back before bringing his bat down on the Russian's shoulder. The impact was five times as painful as it should have been for Scout's pitiful muscles, and Heavy was sent to the ground with a startled scream. Why couldn't he touch Scout when the man could hit him? He attempted to stand up and retaliate, but Jeremy placed the handle of the bat on the top of his skull and pushed down, shoving his face into the ground.

"You're a failure, chucklenuts! You failed your team, your family, and you're about to fail yourself!"

Heavy cried out, "Nyet!" but in a flash, Scout had disappeared. After a few hesitant moments, the Russian determined he was in the clear and began to lift himself up. Then, as quickly as Scout had vanished, Spy appeared. The Frenchman unfolded his butterfly knife before thrusting it downwards into Heavy's hand, essentially pinning him to the ground. Misha let out another howl of pain.

"I have places to be, so I will make it quick. Enjoy your stay in hell, fat man!"

Heavy wasn't given a chance to respond, as Soldier and Demoman came crashing down onto his back, grinding their boots into his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip so hard to prevent a whimper from escaping that it started to bleed.

"Pozhaluysta, make it stop."

"You are nothing but a greasy Commie who deserves to have his fingers ripped off one by one!" Soldier yelled.

Demoman smashed a beer bottle on the back of the bear's neck, causing him to let out a choked gasp. A rapid series of lashes from Jane's whip resulted in more shrieks and Heavy bleeding in multiple places.

"I ain't drunk, I just despise you, you blubbery Bolshevik!"

"I HATE YOU, STALINGRAD!"

"You're the most rotten crop in the field, partner."

"I've had a lot of poor souls as targets, but bloody hell! You're past pathetic, ya pig! What's this? I think you might even be bleeding gravy!"

"Mmph mmph hmm! Hudda!"

"Yeah, not so tough now are ya? Are ya!"

Misha couldn't stand it. He was being torn apart from the inside out. What had he ever done to deserve this? Why was his team, his friends, punishing him like this?

"Stop! No more! Heavy has had enough!"

Everyone turned to dust, leaving only one figure standing tall and proud. He almost seemed to glow amidst Heavy's blurring vision.

"Doktor, I made vow to myself that I would never appear so weak in front of you, but please, I beg of you, help me..."

Medic turned around. His initial expression was one of confusion, but it soon transformed into one of cold ill-will.

"And why should I do that?" He asked solemnly.

Misha could feel tears pricking in his eyes.

"Josef, please, I love you. Do you love Heavy? You said you did, on day we got married, on the day before that, so, so many times. Do not tell me you have given up on me as well!"

Josef's features softened with concern for his other half. He bent down towards the trembling, bleeding giant and caressed his cheek.

"Of course I haven't left you, Misha," he whispered with a tiny smile.

Through his agony, Heavy could almost feel his own smile coming on. His love was here. He was going to save him from this prison and clean him up and everything would be normal again.

Then, he felt a blade pierce through his chest. One that could only belong to the Ubersaw.

"I couldn't have left you if I was never yours in the first place."

.

"NO!"

Josef awoke with a start, his breathing almost as rapid as the man sitting next to him. With owlish eyes, he turned his head towards his husband and felt his heart shatter.

Heavy has his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He was crying into his sleeve like a child and his whole body shook with remnants of fear. Medic reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but then quickly withdrew it when he determined physical contact towards someone unstable wasn't wise. Instead, he lowered his tone to a murmur and called out to Heavy.

"Misha? Meine liebe? What on earth happened?"

The giant continued to shake and sob for another minute, but once he turned his head and saw his beloved doctor next to him, he gasped.

"You are still here!" He cried.

The German's worry intensified.

"Of course I am, geliebte. I will always be here for you. Just what sort of nightmare did you have?"

Without warning, the giant eclipsed the smaller man completely and cried into his hair. His large arms were almost suffocating, but Josef returned the embrace, rubbing his back through his pajama shirt.

"Scout and Engineer and everyone-...and Doktor stabbed me and--"

"Shh, calm down, Misha. It's going to be alright, I'm here now, and I would never hurt you. I love you, meine Bär," Medic mused, putting everything into making his partner feel comfortable again.

Heavy removed his face from the medic's hair and looked him in the eyes, his own still slightly wet.

"Heh, Heavy is such a mess. Leetle baby dream turned ME into the baby," he joked, wiping his left cheek.

Josef took to wiping his right with a comforting thumb, "There is nothing to be ashamed about, Misha. We all have our bad days and nights. I wake up frequently with nightmares too, usually of you or my parents dying."

Heavy's face dropped again.

"You never thought to wake me up? You know Heavy does not mind. I love you very much, Josef. Would climb mountain for you to be at peace."

The German placed a finger over his husband's lips and shook his head.

"We'll talk about that later. Now is about you. Come now, you must feel exhausted."

And he was right. His breakdown had thoroughly wiped him out, and Medic's soft hands rubbing circles on his hip and on his cheek wasn't helping.

Smiling softly, Josef placed a small kiss on his lover's lips, a reminder that they were both safe, before wrapping his own arms around the Russian and laying the both of them back down.

"Don't worry, Misha. I promise you'll dream sweetly now. I'll even make some French toast in the morning, how does that sound?" Medic grinned.

Heavy, however, was still a tad on the anxious side, so he pulled his wonderful husband closer to his chest and kissed the crown of his head.

"Thank you for staying by my side, Doktor. Heavy appreciates you more than you will ever know."

Medic wanted to respond, but Heavy fell asleep almost instantaneously afterwards. Instead, he continued to smile in the darkness and ran a steady hand across the specialist's back until he himself succumbed to the world of slumber.

A promise was a promise. Misha was not tormented further.

[five-rivers]

Candlelight

Sequel to the 'Familiar AU.'

.

Tucker lit the candle at the center of the circle and used it to light the candles around the edges. “Alright,” he said, out loud, as he checked the antique book next to him.

As the only one of their trio not currently under the effects of a mind/body affecting ancient spell, it fell to Tucker to try and break it. Even if this was really, really not his thing.

“You’d better say what Google Translate says you say,” he said to the book.

His phone alarm started beeping.

“Okay. Okay.” He nudged the bowls with Sam and Danny’s hair… and signatures… and blood… that had sure been a weird ask, especially since he had to keep the exact reason he was asking secret… into alignment. “Here goes nothing.”

He started chanting.

.

Danny startled awake and blinked sleepily at his ceiling. Something was happening, he could tell. Something… nice? He hoped so.

He rolled over, hugging his quilt like a stuffed animal. Lately, he’d been a lot less stressed. Probably because of the familiar spell Vivian had made them cast. It was nice to know what was going on with at least one of the people he cared about all the time.

Of course, if he saw Vivian again, he’d beat her into the ground. She’d melted him, and Sam didn’t like her. That definitely left him with a grudge to hold.

Well. If he could beat her into the ground. He usually did better the second time around when facing ghosts, so he thought his chances were fifty-fifty or thereabouts.

It sort of felt like the something that was happening had to do with Tucker. That was nice.

He dozed off.

.

For all that Sam claimed to be a creature of the night, this week had been one that left her with a dearth of beauty sleep. So, when she woke up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, she was more than a little annoyed.

“What,” she growled, sleepily, at the air. Nothing answered. “Tucker?” Danny was the more likely nighttime visitor, what with midnight ghost fights being a thing, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t here. “C’mon in’r whatev’r,” she mumbled, pressing her face back into her pillow.

No one came in. She forced herself, in the name of not regretting stuff later, to look first at her window (empty) and then at her phone (no notifications). Bereft of stimulation, she went back to sleep.

.

Tucker, panicked and cursing under his breath, sprayed the burning floor with the fire extinguisher. That. Had not gone as planned.

In the dark, he stumbled over to the wall and fumbled for the light switch. He blinked against the sudden brightness and glared at his arms. The fire had burned right through his sleeves. He pushed them up.

Those weren’t burns, though. Tucker’s cursing became notably more vehement. He prodded one of the markings with a finger. It didn’t hurt.

All he could think was that if his mom saw these, she’d kill him for getting a tattoo. Heck, he was about to kill him for getting these.

In any case, the ritual had not worked as advertised.

He picked up his phone and dialed first Danny, then Sam.

.

Danny’s deliriously happy expression boded ill for Tucker, in his experience opinion. Yes, he was almost always happy to see them, but this was above and beyond, especially given the late hour.

“What did you do?” demanded Sam, swinging down from Danny’s arms. Danny, meanwhile, practically jumped Tucker, hugging him tightly.

“Uh,” said Tucker. “Honestly, I don’t know.” He waved his free arm, the one Danny wasn’t pinning to his body. “I was trying to break the, uh, you know.”

“Awww,” said Danny, “whyyyyy?”

“Because you aren’t being rational about this, Danny,” said Tucker, pushing at him, slightly.

“But I’m okay with it!” said Danny. “I told you.”

“Okay, right, yeah,” said Sam. “Thank you for still trying.” She swept a hand through her hair. “But when you called us, you were all upset, and Danny is still…” She gestured at Danny, who was now trying to pull her into the hug. “Like this.”

“I’m always like this.”

“Yes, but not so much.” She evaded his grasp and, finally, Danny let go of Tucker, pouting. “I feel like you’ve been bitten by a cuddle bug.”

“Haha, that could be the name of a ghost,” said Danny. He poked Tucker. “You put yourself in, somehow. I can tell.”

Well. Tucker’s stomach had just dropped through the floor. “What do you mean? Put myself into what?”

“Into the, you know.” He waved a finger between himself and Sam.

“Aw, man,” said Tucker. He pushed up they sleeves of his PJ shirt, which he had hastily thrown on after calling Sam and Danny. “Anyway, I did the thing, which, uh. Had to do with all the stuff I asked you for last week, and… These happened.”

“Ah,” said Sam.

“Ooh,” said Danny. “Do they hurt?”

“No,” said Tucker. “They’re just… there.” He rubbed at one of them.

Danny poked one of the lines and traced it up to the crease of Tucker’s elbow. “They look like tattoos,” he said.

“I know,” said Tucker.

“They kind of look like bracers,” said Sam, tilting her head. “Or a net.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker. “Not what was on my mind, actually.”

“Oh,” said Sam.

“If I walked into some kind of magical slavery booby trap, I’m going to be so mad,” said Tucker, slumping down on his bed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Can you show me the book? The spell you used?” asked Danny. “Maybe Sam and I can figure out what happened.”

Tucker pointed at the corner he had thrown the book during his several minute long tantrum.

Danny floated over and picked it up. He paged through it. “The one with the bookmark?”

“The one with the bookmark,” agreed Tucker, despondently.

“Oh,” said Danny, after a few minutes. “Hm,” he said.

“What?” demanded Sam and Tucker, all at once.

“Well, I might be misinterpreting this, because old languages and all that, but… We saw something that looked just like this in another book, but it said that it would do something completely different.”

“Oh, gosh, it was booby trapped,” said Tucker, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Yeah,” said Danny, agreeably.

“So, what does it actually do?” asked Sam, peeking over Danny’s shoulder.

“Oh, it’s a request to be added to the, um, familiar contract,” said Danny.

“I am not a familiar.”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I think this is strictly for humans,” said Danny. “So… You’re kind of part of it, but junior to Sam? And sort of probationary, from what remember. We’d need to find it, but… I didn’t one hundred percent get it the first time around, and… well… yeah.”

Sam dragged her hands down her face. “We’re going to have to talk to Vivian again, aren’t we?”

“Wait, wait, if it’s probationary—”

“That’s only the feeling I got from it,” said Danny.

“—doesn’t that mean there’s a way to undo this?”

Danny shrugged, his brow pinched. “I’m sorry… I know you guys don’t particularly like this. It’s just… Nice. To know that this way I can help you guys with things, even if I’m not there.”

“We know, man. We just feel like we’re taking advantage,” said Tucker.

“Okay,” said Danny. He sighed. “If it’s really that important to you guys, I’ll try and take finding a… a fix more seriously.”

“Thanks, Danny,” said Sam. She yawned. “Can we talk about this more tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker. He glared at his arms. “I’ll just… Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, Tucker,” said Danny. “Everything will be fine.”

[jaskiersvalley]

CW major character injury (beartrap)

Splitting up for winter seemed like the most sensible idea. Geralt would head north with Ciri and, at his insistence at not leaving his muse, Jaskier. Meanwhile Regis would lead the others south, down to Touissant for a bit of downtime. Privately Geralt also hoped their infuriatingly stubborn Nilfgaardian shadow would opt to head for the warmer climates and leave them alone. It wasn't even that Geralt was worried about the man following them. Over the weeks it had become abundantly clear that he was trying to help in his own way, even fighting off a stray bandit or two to keep their tail clean. Rather, Geralt simply couldn't be bothered to exert the energy to get to know yet another person and it was another mouth to feed. Given his rather solitary nature, the fact he was travelling with a ragtag bunch was already quite exhausting.

As luck would have it, Geralt ended up with the Nilfgaardian trailing after them, heading steadily north. The weather got colder and sometimes Geralt caught the whiff of another camp fire, creeping a little closer as it that small lessening of distance would give their tail a smidgeon more warmth. It was pathetic and Geralt was more than a little pissed off. Still, at least the trip up to Kaer Morhen would lose him. Nobody was foolish enough to try and reach the old keep alone, even Witchers succumbed to the trail, a human by himself stood no chance. So either their foolhardy idiot would find shelter for the winter in the surrounding villages or he would perish.

They were at the bottom of the mountain, one last night to get some rest before they braved the slopes. Jaskier and Ciri definitely needed sleep and to give their bodies a break. Geralt was content to meditate, keeping them safe. In the distance he could hear their Nilfgaardian make camp, daring to stray as close as he ever had. Frustrated, Geralt found himself wishing that a bear would appear and deal with the annoyance for him. Alas, he couldn't hear or smell a bear in the region despite the villages mentioning that there had been some bears sighted earlier in the year. Thankfully the local hunters had taken care of them. Lost in thought, Geralt almost didn't register the sound of something snapping shut before a pained cry echoed in the forest. Immediately he was up, sword in hand while Jaskier was on his feet too, looking around in the darkness.

In the distance Geralt could hear pained hitches of breath plus a few agonised grunts. Whatever had happened, it wasn't the swift death he'd wished on the Nilfgaardian. There wasn't anyone or anything else in the vicinity so whatever had happened, the idiot did to himself. Probably stabbed himself with an arrow in the dark. Despite all his ill-wishes, Geralt couldn't bring himself to ignore someone in trouble.

"It's the Nilfgaardian. He's in trouble."

There wasn't any argument when he set off, Jaskier and Ciri behind him, treading carefully, a flaming torch lighting their way. Geralt almost wished they hadn't had the torch because then he wouldn't have had to see the scene in front of him in full colour. The Nilfgaardian was on the ground at the edge of a small clearing where he'd obviously planned on making camp. However, the stench of blood around him suggested that something hadn't gone according to plan. Walking up to him, Geralt watched as the man realised he wasn't alone and jerked upright. A beartrap kept him rooted though. His hands were bloody, even worse, his palms had been cut open from where he'd obviously tried to pry the metal from his leg. What struck Geralt though was just how young the man looked. Wide blue eyes stared up from shock paled skin, lips almost white enough to be missed. Only slightly older than Ciri, probably about twenty, Geralt couldn't fathom why someone so young was so desperate.

"You'll need to keep still while we get this off," Geralt said, crouching down. The young man tried to scramble away but aside from leaning back, he couldn't go anywhere. "Why don't we help with the pain a bit?" Hand raised, Geralt prepared to cast axii. Before he could, a rock connected with the man's temple and knocked him out cold as Jaskier stood behind him, hand wrapped around the lightly bloodied rock.

"That will keep him still and out of it," he declared. "It was the kindest thing."

"Or you could have let me use axii to keep him calm." Geralt tipped the man's head to the side to check how badly the rock had split his skin. It was going to give him quite the bruise, possibly a black eye and one hell of a headache. Still, it did made life easier and Geralt pried the trap off. It had snapped in bone deep, probably even broke his leg. Humans were fragile like that and the trap was meant for a bear. Sighing, Geralt looked around the miserable excuse of a half made camp. It screamed of skills learned on the fly, for the sole purpose of survival rather than something practiced in safety before being put into reality. "Grab his things. We'll head up to Kaer Morhen tomorrow and take him with us."

They had more in the way of bandages with them and, while the man was unconscious, Geralt did his best to clean the wounds, splint the leg and bandage it as well as the cuts on his hands. There wasn't much to be done for the headache of the future though.

In the morning Geralt roused from his meditation to find a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

"You going to make an example of me and kill me?" The accent was harsh despite the soft voice. It wasn't what Geralt had expected coming out of the man's mouth.

"Yeah, I wasted all the bandages on you just for that. Name's Geralt."

"Cahir Mawr Dyrryn aep Ceallach."

"Quite the mouthful. Cahir alright with you?" The nod was answer enough and Geralt set about getting breakfast ready. It was only thanks to the events of the previous night that he kept an eye out for more beartraps and avoided falling victim to one himself. He set it off with a stick and winced as it splintered under the metal jaws.

Despite their best efforts, by the time they'd loaded Cahir onto the cart strapped to Roach, his cheeks were flushed with fever and Geralt could smell the sickness on him. The valiant effort to get to know his new travelling companions better was foiled by the way Cahir kept drifting off, a combination of sickness and from the hit to the head. When he woke, it was only Jaskier's quick grab to the back of his shirt that kept Cahir on the cart as he threw up over the side.

It wasn't looking good. The first night they stopped, Geralt helped rebandage Cahir's injured leg. As the cloth fell away, it became amply evident that infection had thoroughly set in. The cuts were an angry red without defined edges to the inflammation while the wounds themselves were puckered with puss.

"It's fine," Cahir tried to reassure with a wobbly smile. "I've survived worse." Which may have been true but he'd probably also been in a place with better medical supplies. The gnarly scar below his collarbone and through to his back attested to his words but Geralt didn't think it was caused by an old, rusty beartrap. If they didn't make it to Kaer Morhen soon then no amount of surviving worse injuries was going to mean anything.

Come next morning Cahir was no longer quite so chirpy. He was still and silent on the cart, Ciri sat next to him and sometimes gesturing for Geralt to look, worried that Cahir had stopped breathing. He hadn't but his deathly pale complexion wasn't giving Geralt much hope. They were still at least a day and a half out from Kaer Morhen, maybe even two because of the additional weight on the cart.

A fever peaked and fell in cycles, each time Geralt hoped it would be the last but, before long, he reached to feel Cahir's skin and winced at how hot to the touch it felt once more.

By the time they made it up to Kaer Morhen, Geralt feared it would be just a corpse for a funeral pyre that they'd be dragging in. By some miracle it wasn't. With Eskel's help he pulled Cahir off the cart, floppy as unresponsive as he was, there was still air in his lungs and an erratic heartbeat in his chest.

"What did you bring us this time?" Lambert teased before getting a better look and his grin turned into a frown. "Well shit. I'll get Vesemir."

It took three days before Cahir was declared out of immediate danger. Geralt spent a lot of it down in the infirmary, sitting next to him. The others could start Ciri's training and Jaskier was no doubt pleased to get to spend time with Eskel again. It left Geralt in the quiet, watching over someone who he had convinced himself he hated. But this wasn't the person he'd conjured up in his mind. Barely older than Jaskier had been when they met, Cahir didn't look like he had any youthful optimism or naivety.

"I'm sorry." Geralt murmured, watching as Cahir slept, breath a little less thready. He should have been better. Shouldn't have judged, not when he was on the other end of so much of it himself.

By the time Cahir roused, everyone had settled into their winter routine. Ciri trained most days, reading tomes Vesemir left her when it got too cold for the outside obstacle course. It left Geralt free to sit with Cahir, watching as glazed eyes opened, unseeing. The worst thing was, not once did Cahir cry out for someone or reach for an invisible source of comfort. In all his years Geralt rarely found someone so lonely. Even Lambert, in his training days, had called out for his mother and, of late, for Aiden. It was a struggle to believe Cahir had nobody.

"Why?" The first word from cracked dry lips and Geralt jumped. He grabbed a wet rag and dabbed it against Cahir's lips, squeezing a little water into his mouth.

"Why what?" There were a lot of questions Cahir could have and Geralt wasn't a mind reader. He startled when a weak hand clasped around his wrist, keeping his hand close. It felt all too natural to take the rag in his other hand so he could cup Cahir's sunken cheek.

"You stayed."

Something told Geralt this wasn't something Cahir had encountered before and it broke his heart. Why nobody would stick around for him was baffling. Even a Witcher had more people looking out for him, he was certain. He cleared his throat, trying to think about why he stayed. It was true, he had no reason to. "I wanted to."

The soft 'oh' from Cahir pulled at something in his chest. He let Cahir tangle their fingers together shyly, looking up at him from the infirmary bed with so much awe and gratitude, Geralt didn't know what to do with it. So he sat back down into his chair and kept holding Cahir's hand. There was a lot of talking, of getting to know each other in their future. But, for now, Geralt was content to offer whatever comfort he could, vowing to be better than all those who had come before him.

[whirlybirdwhat]

crown the king with bloody flowers - chapter 33

Hanahaki au drabble series, in which Luffy is in love with the sea.

Ao3

chapter 33 - adonis flos - shanks 

Luffy - he’s so small in Shank’s arms, smaller than he was last night, partying with the Red-Haired pirates held upon their shoulders, and smaller than he was this morning, when he ran into Shanks’s knees and caused a ruckus as they were loading the ship. Shanks doesn’t know why he never noticed it before. 

Maybe it’s because now, Luffy is asleep, wrapped in blankets and held in Shanks’s arms, blood on his chin and red stains on the blanket. Maybe it’s because Luffy - vivacious and unstoppable, even with a stab wound to the face - has never been this quiet. This small. This unmoving

Shanks holds him in his arms, sitting in the quiet guest bedroom on the small bed Luffy calls his own above the bar. Knickknacks of child’s toys and treasures, shells Shanks had given to him and odd trinkets the Red Hair pirates had left behind litter the room. 

He’s a child - a child who loved the sea more than anything else. 

(When Shanks had first met him, Luffy had been sitting by the sea, watching the pirate ship come in. Water had lapped at his ankles, and later - when introductions were over and pirates were mumbling into a fifth round of drinks - Luff had simply stared off into the horizon with a smile.

Walking by tide pools, Luffy had said, The sea’s the best! She’s free! Picking up shells, Luffy had told him Isn’t the sea pretty? Living near the shore, the horizon reflected in his gaze, Luffy didn’t have to speak for Shanks to know that he loved the sea.)

A child, that was loved back by the sea. 

Until — 

Luffy coughs, and water and blood and dogwood flowers drip out of his small mouth. Shanks takes the blanket and holds him closer, his own arms trembling, terrified. 

— Until Luffy had eaten that damned fruit. 

It was only a few hours ago but - still - it stays in Shank’s mind.  The way Luffy had bitten in and started choking, not coughing out pieces of fruit but rather flowers. The way his eyes had gone wide and tears had welled up, the way Luffy had clawed at his throat and spit blood unto the floor - the way Luffy had said It hurts and had closed his eyes when Shanks whispered hanahaki.

Shanks watched his captain die in a flurry of petals. He’ll never forget it.

This moment is just the same - seared into his memory like a brand, like a warning, like a curse. 

Luffy, Shanks thinks and tilts his head back to the ceiling, feeling tears wanting too well. There is no shame in crying, every pirate knows that - but here, when Luffy is in his arms and may wake at every moment, Shanks must stay strong. He brought the fruit. He tore Luffy from the sea that he loved more than anything. He’s the one who cursed him. 

He has to stay strong for Luffy. 

(The sea hates Devil Fruit users, the legend states, but Shanks has only ever talked to Buggy and well - he never made it seem that way. Shanks hadn’t really believed it. But this - this is the truth isn’t it? The sea hates.)

There’s another cough from Luffy, but this time - this time he starts shifting. Groaning. Shanks tilts his arms and lets Luffy roll onto his bicep rather than his chest so Luffy is looking straight up at him. 

(His hands, bloody and red, still grip Shanks’s shirt. He almost never wants him to let go.)

“Hey Anchor,” Shanks says softly, quietly. “How you feeling?”

Luffy blinks blearily, brown eyes dazed and faintly pained. He adjusts his grip on Shanks’ shirt and looks around, minutely moving his head, absolutely exhausted, before responding. “‘M tired. Hurts.” 

Something breaks in Shanks’ chest at that, but he tries not to show it. Luffy is  strangely empathetic, even if he doesn’t care about others emotions that much and he’ll know Shanks’ sorrow - 

Luffy tilts his head further into Shanks’s chest and ah - he already knows. “‘M glad you’re here. You always come back. No one really else does.” 

His heart clenches. Oh, how he wants to steal this boy away - away from a bar with a woman who tries her best, away from a village that doesn’t understand, and a grandfather who cares but not enough. He wants to keep Luffy with him, wrap him up and let him see the world on the deck of ship, let him wonder, let him live but - 

He can’t. 

(A ship’s no place for a child who still has somewhere to call home on land.)

Shanks tilts down and presses a kiss onto Luffy’s head, soft and affectionate, his beard scratching at Luffy’s silky hair. The boy gives out a giggle at that, soft and melodious, before a coughing fit starts up again. Hacking and hacking away, flowers spilling out and sinking to the ground. Shanks rubs his back, gently, soothingly, as Luffy starts trembling before sagging in his arms. 

When he looks back up at Shanks, his eyes are pained.  

“Shanks?” He asks, quiet. Unnerving. “Am I going to die?”

And Shanks’ heart breaks.

Am I going to die?

Am I going to die?

Am I going to die? 

No child should have to ask that, should have to bear that burden, and oh - 

Shanks’ reaction is instantaneous and he crushes Luffy to his chest, finally unable to fight the tears that prick at his eyes. 

“No,” he lies, he lies so badly, choking out as much conviction as he can manage. “Anchor, Luffy, no. You - I won’t let you. It’s going to be okay, you won’t die, you won’t.” Luffy shakes in his arms, and he knows, doesn’t he?

That Shanks is lying?

He doesn’t let Luffy go, only listens to his mumbled sobs as he cries with him. 

“Oh, Luffy,” Shanks says, helpless. “I - we will find a way. We will - I’ll sail the entire world, I’ll find something.  I-‘“ His voice cracks. He can’t get another word out. He just holds Luffy tight, tighter than he’s ever held him, before, and sobs into his pitch black hair. ‘Anchor,” he gasps, and this boy is going to die and it’ll be the death of him.

Shanks knows it.

He knows it.

He wishes he didn’t.

His mind races, trying to come up with something, anything, mind always, always, hitching on the way his captains smile was bloody when he said goodbye to Shanks for the last time, bloody red petals stuck in his teeth.

Did you do it, Shanks had asked, sobbing, clinging to his captains coat on that last day, did you achieve your dream?

Not yet, Roger had said, and that had hurt the most. Roger was a pirate. Roger was the Pirate King.

And to a pirate, losing a dream was worse than death.

Shanks doesn’t want that to happen to Luffy. Luffy, who is small in his arms and dying the same way Roger did. Luffy, who is sobbing and terrified. Luffy, who looks out to sea and says he wants to be a pirate with more determination than anyone else in the world.

Luffy can’t die. He can’t.

Shanks can’t stop his tears. He can’t stop crying. 

But. 

He - 

(He’s got will, Rayleigh had said, when Crocus made exasperated noises about why Roger wasn’t bed-ridden in illness, He’ll stay standing as long as he’s got reason to, and adventure’s a good enough one as any.) 

-He won’t let Luffy die.

He takes off his hat with a careful arm, making sure not to move Luffy to roughly, and slowly pulls the hat off his head and place’s it on his Anchor’s. It startles him out of his sobbing for just a moment, his eyes big and red-rimmed with wetness still dripping down. 

“Luffy.” Shanks says, despite the tears that match Luffy’s on his face. “You - you wanna be a pirate, yeah?”

Quiet, quieter than he’s ever been, Luffy nods. “Ye-yeah.” He hiccups. 

“Then listen to me. Pirates are free.” Each word feels like a vow. Like a promise. Like defiance. Shanks keeps his eyes on Luffy’s, and lets the words carry him. “We do what we want, when we want. We sing, we dance, we sail, we laugh - but most of all Luffy, we chase. Our. Dreams.” Here, he holds Luffy tighter, tipping the too-big hat on his head back enough so he can see Luffy’s entire face. “That’s what a Jolly Roger is. It’s a symbol of our conviction in chasing our dreams. And Dreams - to a pirate - that’s our life. If you have a dream, Luffy, then you’ll live. You got that?”

Luffy is staring at him, eyes wide, tears forgotten. It’s just like when he heard Shanks sing Binks sake for the first time, or when he heard about the tales of the Grand Line. It’s awe. 

(Shanks thinks he’ll break if he can’t uphold the pedestal Luffy has placed him upon.)

“Do you?” Shanks prompts again, and Luffy nods.

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s your dream Luffy?” 

“To be a pirate!” Luffy says, voice filled with unsteady conviction. “To sail the seas and be free!”

It’s not enough. But it’s a start.

“Then you won’t die Luffy - as long as you’re chasing your dreams, you won’t die.” Shanks voice cracks again. “You can’t die without being a pirate, right?’

C’mon, Luffy - if anyone’s got the same Will as Roger, it’s you so - 

“Right!” Luffy says, rubbing at his eyes with a hand and blinking tears away even as that same hand comes to clutch at his chest. “I can’t die - not until… not until I-‘

And what he says next isn’t the dream to be a pirate, but something grander, something that spilled out of Roger’s mouth as he laughed with the entire world - something that makes Shanks burst out in glee and hold Luffy close as a few more desperate tears escape his eyes.

“That’s - that’s right. You can’t die till then. You can’t!”

(It’s not a promise. It can’t be. The Seas to much for that. But… Shanks can pretend.)

That night, Luffy sleeps with the hat on in the crook of Shanks’ arms, new found determination in his eyes even as he cries himself to sleep and sobs through the pain.

He gives the hat back, but the next week there are bandits who pick on pirates and little boys alike, missing arms and little anchors lost at sea.

The next week, Shanks has to leave.

But not before hearing Luffy make another promise.

“I’m the man who will be King of the Pirates!”

He won’t die before achieving his dream. 

(Roger did.)

He won’t die before seeing Shanks again.

(Roger did.)

Shanks just has to have faith that this boy - who can smile like the sun, who loves the sea with his whole heart, who has flowers on his lips and in his chest - will live.

King or Dead.

It’s the only choice Luffy has left.

-

adonis flos: a red flower that is also called "blood drops" adonis flos mean 'painful, sorrowful recollections." its named for Adonis, the youth that Aphrodite loved who died in her arms, and who's blood and pain formed flowers where they dripped.

[lailyn]

This Magical Journey Called Multiple (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Loki/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Drama, Idiots In Love, Mpreg

Summary: Loki thought he had struck gold this lifetime around, having found not one, but two loves at once. This new life he is carrying could only be a blessing, so why isn't everybody happy?

“I am not injured,” Loki insisted. “It was the heat, it must have gotten to me.”

“It’s still a good idea to take it easy, Bambi. Heat stroke is one of those things that can hit you from out of nowhere,” Tony said.

At Stephen’s mildly-impressed look, Tony gave a modest shrug. “We’ve been together how long? Of course I’ve picked up a few things.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “At least something good has come out of it.”

Ignoring Tony’s indignant ‘Hey!’, Stephen conjured a tall, cool glass of water and offered it to Loki, who looked all manner of singed save for his armour. “But Tony’s right. There may not be external burn injuries, but we humans are about seventy percent water, and I’m guessing you’re not that far off either.”

“I’m not a child,” Loki grumbled. Nevertheless, he dutifully accepted the drink and took a few long gulps, stopping abruptly when a sudden nauseous feeling assaulted his senses the moment the water hit his stomach. “Tony, please don’t make that face. It’s making me want to do things.”

“I can’t help it. It’s my fault. I should have - ”

“No should haves, could haves,” Loki interrupted. “Stop it. Shit happens.”

“Language,” Tony admonished lightly but his body language was still steeped in guilt.

“Guess I’ve picked up a few things too,” Loki murmured, nodding gratefully at Stephen as his husband stepped in to wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Not only was the Sorcerer Supreme a good lay in bed, he was a mind-reader too. Loki sure got lucky this time around.

Tony straightened up a little in Stephen’s one-armed embrace. “Glad you guys had my back or I would have been smoked brisket.”

At the mention of brisket, the nausea reared its monstrous head again and Loki gagged.

“Let’s get you out of the sun.” Stephen was beginning to sound worried now. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Loki said, swallowing compulsively. Before either of his overbearing husbands could argue, (they were always so noisy when they fussed) he corrected himself, “I will be fine.”

“Right,” Tony snorted. “Nice try. Come on, up. Next time, don’t skip breakfast.”

Stephen snorted even louder. “And the frying-pan said to the kettle, 'Avant, black-browes'.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but it can’t be good,” Tony grunted, nearly toppling under Loki’s weight, who really was more unsteady than he was letting on. “Will you boom-boom-whoosh us a portal already?”

Stephen shook his head and wrapped his arm around Loki’s waist, taking on some of the burden.

“I can walk,” Loki whined.

“Sure you can,” Stephen said kindly. “We just happen to do it better.”

__________________________________________________________

Tony didn’t know how anybody could sleep with the AC blowing full-blast in their face but Loki did just that, and for twelve hours straight too. Their not-strictly-human husband had never slept for such a long stretch of time and it could only be a testament to his exhaustion.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him to give Loki some privacy while he freshened up in the bathroom, his worried eyes met Stephen’s equally troubled gaze.

“Think he’s coming down with something?” Tony asked quietly.

“He seemed fine yesterday when the call came, and he was fighting fit," Stephen mulled as they walked back toward the kitchen together. “Wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he took down those Doombots like they were nothing. He did that flashy move of his, you know the one where he’s like ribbon-dancing in the sky, except his ribbons turned into deadly blades the minute they came into contact with a Bot.”

“I have to take your word for it, I guess. I was kinda busy keeping a few buildings standing,” Stephen said enviously, as it was a sight he wouldn’t have minded seeing himself. Watching Loki in battle was always a spectacle, even back when they were still rivals.

Tony must have misconstrued the envy in his voice and decided that a little teasing was in order. “Aw, I’m sure you were great, honey.” He reached out to squeeze Stephen’s bicep. “Feeling a little sore there?”

“I held them up by magic but thank you for asking,” Stephen said dryly. “I wouldn’t mind a massage though, if you’re offering me one.”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in my tight schedule.” Kisses stolen in passing whilst walking down hallways were often sweet, made sweeter still by the relief Tony could feel bleeding through their locked lips. It had not been too long ago that they had almost lost Loki to that terrible illness, and it was that same shared fear that had plagued both Stephen and him since yesterday.

As they sat back down to their now-cold breakfast, he could see just how much Stephen’s face had brightened. The appetite that was almost killed by JARVIS’ mid-meal interruption to inform them that Loki was finally awake came back with a vengeance, and Tony shoveled his eggs into his mouth like a man starving.

It was after a few bites that he deemed his hunger momentarily sated enough to broach another issue that had been weighing on him.

"How was Loki...the night before last?" Tony asked tentatively.

It was an arrangement only recently agreed upon that they made use of the ten bedrooms in the penthouse, with each claiming a bedroom of his own and still having the freedom to choose where and with whom to spend the night. It came about after Stephen's odd hours and Tony's unpredictable work frenzies clashed with Loki's need for absolute silence when sleeping.

Tony had never met a lighter sleeper in his life. So when Stephen got called out on Sorcerer Supreme business for three nights in a row, it did not surprise either of them when Loki, tired of the interruptions to his beauty sleep, set fire to the bed.

Tony wished the mercurial God of Chaos could spare the custom-made, eiderdown-covered Alaskan king bed...alas, new beds he could always buy, but there was only one of Loki.

"Sleep in separate bedrooms! It's the secret to a happy marriage, don't you ever watch The Crown?" Pepper had said, rubbing salt into the wound the next day when he called her up the next day to moan. "God knows you have enough rooms to sleep in a different one for every night of the month."

Which was an exaggeration of course, for only the top floor of the penthouse had four bedrooms on the same floor, one for each of them, and the biggest, most lavish one reserved for when they needed to spend time together as a proper throuple.

Clearly perturbed by Tony's question, Stephen carefully set his fork back on his plate. "Could you be more specific?"

"Did he seem a little...impatient to you?"

"Impatient?" Stephen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know…" Tony drawled, "More...urgent. Demanding."

"You mean horny," Stephen deadpanned.

"Shhh. You know he doesn't like that word!" Tony whispered loudly. "It depreciates his aesthetic."

Stephen chuckled. "You can say horny, Tony. Loki's not here."

"And now he is," a sultry voice suddenly spoke from behind, and Stephen nearly yelped.

"Loki!" He gasped. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Loki said coolly, sliding into the empty chair beside Tony, to whom he directed his next question. "So what else does he say about me when I'm not here?"

"Only the most flattering things, sweetness." Tony rubbed his hand up and down Loki's back. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm drunk on sleep." Loki's nostrils flared as he tried to kill the oncoming yawn but failed. "But not bad. You?"

"Nothing an Advil or two can't fix." Tony reached out a hand to stop Loki from stealing a piece of toast off his plate. "I think Stephen's wanting to take your spinal fluid or brain tissue or something first."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Just your blood will do."

"Why?" Loki whined. "I hate those adamantium needles, they itch like a bitch."

Tony let out a scandalous whisper. "Language!"

"I want to make sure there's no electrolyte imbalance and that your sugar level's okay. You were vomiting quite profusely yesterday," Stephen said,

"I'm not anymore," Loki pointed out. "I feel absolutely fine."

"It's just a precaution, Loki," Stephen tried again but before he could say anything further, Loki held up a regal hand.

"And I can tell you with absolute certainty that my blood sugar level is very low because I am very, very hungry and if you do not feed me within the next thirty seconds I will eat your face," he growled. "Literally."

Stephen slowly, wordlessly, slid his plate across the table.

"Thank you, Stephen," Loki said sweetly  before attacking the egg-white and quinoa omelette with gusto. He swallowed the first bite and made a face. "This is nasty."

A heated debate and a number of mortal threats later, Loki was well on his way out the door. “Anytime today, Stark. Get a move on.”

“Can’t you go?” Tony pleaded. “I’ve never done my own grocery shopping before.”

Stephen looked at him incredulously. “You don’t have to do anything. You just have to prepare the money when he asks and make sure he doesn’t buy out every stall he happens to like.”

Loki tapped his foot impatiently. “Shall I go by myself then?”

“No!” Both Stephen and Tony said in unison.

“Nice try, Bambi,” Tony added. To Stephen, “You owe me.”

“This and more.” Stephen kissed Tony quickly. “Bring him back in one piece if you can. Oh, and I’m speed-dial number one, two and three on both your phones.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Stephen's eyes disappeared behind his smile. “Loki, babe? Can you come here for a sec?”

Loki marched back to where Stephen and Tony were still huddled by the kitchen counter. “What is it now?”

Stephen dropped an effervescent electrolyte tablet into a glass of water. “Drink this before you go. You need to replenish your electrolytes.”

Loki groaned. “Stephen, I am electrolyted up to my eyeballs. Enough, please.”

“Today’s going to be a hot day, according to the weather forecast,” Stephen warned. “Can’t risk you getting dehydrated again.”

“It can’t possibly be hotter than yesterday," Loki said. He turned to Tony. "You need to figure out how to increase your heat resistance to Doom's fire-breathing Bots, I can't be covering you all the time. What if I'm not there?"

Stephen’s gaze vacillated between his two lovers in alarm. “Are we expecting any trouble today?”

“No, it was simply a theoretical question,” Loki said patiently. “Tony needs to build better suits.”

“And you need to see a sleep hygienist,” Tony said, just as sweetly. “Can’t have you burning any more beds. We are living in a high-rise, you know.”

Loki shrugged. “It’s not like both of you can’t fly.”

Stephen chuckled, “He’s got a point.”

“Whose side are you on?” Tony grumbled to himself. “Are we going or what?”

Stephen sighed. If he had not made prior arrangements to visit Kamar-Taj that day, he would have been more than happy to take Tony’s place.

He kissed Loki, a tad harder than usual. "Be careful, you two."

Loki laughed. "We're going to the market, Stephen, not off-world to another planet."

“Thank you for the reassurance, Loki.”

Loki’s kiss took Stephen by surprise, not so much the hard pinch Loki gave his cheek. “You fret too much.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s sweet.” Loki’s green eyes glinted. “Makes me want to eat your face every time.”

__________________________________________________________

Strolling the gorgeous Botanical Garden in the Bronx at this time of year was...interesting. Being public figures, it was a given that they would be recognised, but most everybody gave them a wide berth, wholly content with admiring from afar.

If Tony had reservations before, they disappeared quickly enough. Loki’s excitement and appreciation for the diverse arrays of artisan foods was contagious, and as they went from stall to stall perusing the seasonal produce on offer, Tony found himself in danger of doing the very thing he had promised Stephen he would keep Loki from doing.

“That was the best goat cheese I’ve ever tasted,” Tony gushed, arms laden with carrier bags full of cheeses, preserves and a variety of herb-infused olive oils. “You sure this is enough?”

“Nope,” Loki said. “But next week we can get Stephen to come with us and buy some more.”

“Sounds like a plan. Your ice cream’s melting.”

Loki held it out and Tony took a lick. “That’s yum.”

“You can have it if you want,” Loki said, sounding suddenly faint.

Tony frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Loki took in a few deep breaths, his face suddenly the colour of parchment. “I don’t know.”

The ice cream cone slipped out of his hand onto the ground when he abruptly bent at the waist, propping himself on his knees. “Just...give me a moment.”

Tony fumbled with the bags, managing to shift them all onto one hand, freeing the other so he could take Loki’s arm. He led his husband to a bench and sat him down.

“Do you feel sick again?” Tony asked, palming Loki’s forehead. His hand came away clammy. “ Do you need some water?”

Loki nodded his head to the first question, and shook his head to the second. His throat bobbed up and down erratically as though he was trying very hard not to lose the content of his stomach in front of all these people.

“I’m calling Stephen.”

“No!” Loki lunged to try to snatch the phone out of Tony’s hand, but the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain like a knife to his stomach. He doubled over and moaned in pain.

“Loki.” Tony dropped onto the bench and placed a hand on the small of Loki’s back. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stabbed the speed dial on his phone and began to pace. “Come on, come on, pick up.”

By a stroke of fortune, Stephen answered before the first dial tone ended, his “Yeah?” a cross between irritable and amused.

“We have a situation,” Tony said tensely.

“That bad, huh?”

Stephen’s indifference was expected given Tony’s propensity for drama, but today was not the day. "Strange, I’m not kidding. I think you need to come get us.“

"Loki may not have the patience for fresh produce and mingling but I’m sure I can trust you to keep him from terrorising the poor farmers for a few hours,” Stephen said, letting out a small chuckle at the imagery. “Or has he stabbed someone already?”

Tony remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Tony?” Stephen began to feel uneasy. “Please tell me Loki did not actually stab someone?”

“Loki’s not feeling well."

There was a sudden pause. When next Stephen spoke, his voice sounded strange. "Well, come on home.”

Loki lifted his head, as though he was listening in on the conversation all along.

“Can you walk?” Tony asked quietly. He helped Loki to his feet, only to regret it a second later. He did not think it was possible for Loki’s face to go that many shades paler, but it did.

Tony cradled the phone to his ear and quickly pushed his swaying husband back onto the bench. “Yeah…that’s a negative.”

Another pause ensued; thankfully it was a shorter one this time.

“Stay where you are.”

TBC

[pvremichigan]

“Yeah... Yeah no, I understand...”

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, this is all we can offer. If we do not receive payment, your home will have to be foreclosed.’

The sounds of loud horns and engines echoed the city streets...

‘You have three years. That is more than enough time. It’s all I can legally give. Even then, I’m jumping through many loops to help you. My job is on the line, you cannot let me down.’

The noises seem to get louder the worse the stress gets.

“Yeah... Got it. Thank you, I’ll... See what I can do.”

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

“I’ve got an interview offer in New York.”

The other two in the room seemed nervous about the news. The taller girl approached the woman talking, holding her by the hand.

“Well... That’s amazing news. I say take it! We don’t get opportunities like this often!”

“I know, Pen, but what about-”

The taller girl gave a very gentle smile. There was fear behind her expression, but she tried to show excitement the best she could.

“I’ll take care of David. I can handle it. This is too big to pass up. We’ll be fine.”

The initial redhead shifted her weight anxiously, looking down with tired eyes. The bags under her eyes seemed heavy with stress and defeat.

“... First paycheck I get, I’m sending it to you two. Don’t let him touch it, it is for you to handle only. If I don’t get the job, I am coming straight home. Alright?”

The boy on the couch didn’t seem to listen. He looked angry, tense. As soon as the taller one nodded, the boy stood up and whipped the ash tray that was on the coffee table straight into the wall. After leaving a hole among the several other patched up holes on the wall, he stormed off upstairs. It was obvious he was getting out again, since the sound of the window slammed open. Albeit muffled, it seemed to cause the taller one to flinch.

“You take care of him, Penny. Don’t let him push you around. Please? I’ll be back soon... I promise.”

Penny teared up, everything becoming quite overwhelming. She brought the redhead into a hug, wishing her silent luck on her journey.

The phone rang.

Reaching into her small bag, the redhead grabbed the phone in a hurry and took a look at the number. Cursing to herself, she answered it with haste.

“Hello?” ‘Yes is this Ms... McIntyre?’ “Speaking.” ‘Hello, yes I’m calling just to give you a reminder about your interview today at 2:30? I hope your travels were safe, how are you handling the city so far?’ “Yes, I am on my way. It’s uh... Not a lie when they call it The City That Never Sleeps. A big change from home but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” ‘Good, I’m very glad to hear. So we will be seeing you at 2:30?’ “Yes, ma’am.” ‘Perfect, talk to you soon.’ “Yes, thank you so much. See you soon.”

After hanging up, ‘McIntyre’ took a quick glance at the time. 1:40. It was a long walk from the motel but she was almost there. 50 minutes. She had dressed properly, albeit uncomfortable in the outfit. Heels were NOT her thing and neither were skirts. Not to mention the damn makeup and the fucking bun she put her hair in. This was professional but it was honestly it was pretty embarrassing. This is not how she wants to be seen by people. No time to waste though, no time to overthink. This is for the job, nothing more.

The building had just been up ahead. All she had to do was make her way through the parking garage and head to the elevator. Easy enough. Stepping into the garage, the place grew darker. It was quite a change from being in the sun this whole time, her eyes took a moment to adjust. Within that moment, it seems she attracted some trouble.

The sound of a gun being clicked and pressed against her head had caused her to freeze. Gruff chuckles accompanied the clicks of the gun.

‘Looks like you’re goin’ somewhere. Ya look busy, so let’s make this quick. We were gonna jump ya but we decided we’d give a pretty lady like you a chance.’

One of the other men stood way too close to her, it really felt like he was sniffing her here and there. A grimace grew on her face. That same man trailed his hand down her arm, gripping her other shoulder to keep her still.

‘Grab the bag.’

The man touching her arm huffed, eyeing her with ill intent as he snatched the bag off her arm. She quickly bent her arm upwards to stop him from being able to rip it away from her.

The gunman growled in frustration, hitting her upside the head with the gun, causing her to hiss in pain and fall straight to the ground. The men had started to laugh at the fall, stepping on her bag. Oh no...

The skirt was getting dirty...

Oh she had enough.

They were too dumb to realize they should’ve stepped on her hand instead.

Lunging her hand into her bag, she was able to yank out her metal nunchucks and roll away enough to be able to stand back up. The gunman grew furious and agitated, taking aim as he had decided he had enough of this. He gave her a chance and she blew it. Nah, she wasn’t going to return the favor - she wasn’t giving them any chances.

She had also grown furious, smacking the nunchucks at his knuckles as soon as he took aim. The impact had caused the him to flinch and pull the trigger... The echo of the bang loudly bounced off the walls of the garage. Seems his aim was unlucky, as the man stepping on the bag had gotten badly grazed by the bullet. The bagman shouted out, clutching his knee where he had gotten injured. The imbalance caused him to fall over, freeing the bag from underneath his show. After the gunman had shot the gun off, she whipped her arm around to bash him in the head, using the momentum to get the neck. With another swing continuing the movement, she aimed for the gut. The man lunged over in pain, giving McIntyre the perfect opportunity to grab his head and bash it right against her knee. One down, the other to go. Playing it safe, she knew she didn’t want to get too dirty. With a simple but harsh kick to the back of his head, both men were knocked out officially. The woman was able to take a breather, leaning against the wall as she panted in exhaustion. Most of it was due to her racing heart, adrenaline dying out slowly as she calmed herself. Looking down, she scowled at the end product. Dirt on her skirt, blood on her hands and head... Knees... Shoes.

God she really hopes nobody fucking saw that. Most people in the city don’t care anyways, but this was just not her lucky day. She PRAYS nobody saw that, distracting herself as she begins dusting off her skirt and legs, picking her bag back up and tucking the nunchucks back inside. She didn’t look that strong, being a bit skinnier than she acted, but from experience, it’s all about technique. Still...

“What a sloppy fight... You assholes are ruining this one chance. I have an interview to get to...”

Her low mutters echoed in the vicinity, frustration in her sigh.

Why can’t she just be left alone...

@yesfxckyxu

[whumpmatsus]

Do they have to be whump related? Also Ichimatsu getting a shot pls

wasn't sure if you wanted a draw or a fic, so I did both!

and yeah, any draw or fic requests you send here should probably be whump-related since this is a whump-focused blog

though if you wanna send any draw or fic/scenario/reaction/etc. requests that AREN'T whump, you can send them to my general Osomatsu-san blog at @kisskissmatsu!

enjoooooy <3

-

-

Usually Ichimatsu is the sextuplet who’s fine being left all by himself.

Being in the hospital without his family, though, is a much different story.

It started innocently enough ― with a persistent cough that was almost certainly the herald of a cold or sore throat on the horizon. As much as he hates being sick, he sort of resigned himself to it. He’s the one among his brothers who’s forever catching what happens to be going around, despite the fact that he doesn’t spend a lot of time around other people. That’s why he started wearing a face mask when he does leave the house.

It was about a week or so of sneezing, coughing, and sniffling his way through various attempts to rest. His throat felt worse than it usually did with a cold, and even more alarming was that his chest felt like it was on fire, especially when he started coughing. Even though he started having trouble breathing, he thought maybe this was just something that would linger for a bit, something that needed more sleep to recover from.

When things didn’t taper off after that, since a week was typically all it took for him to start feeling better, the others started commenting on it.

When Ichimatsu started to spend more time in the bathroom with a sink full of hot water in the hopes that the steam would help him breathe easier, and it didn’t seem to be having any effect, they all got worried.

When Karamatsu blurted out, “I secretly took Ichimatsu’s temperature with a forehead thermometer while he was sleeping and it read 39.4!”, Mom and Dad immediately carted their fourth son off to the hospital.

It figures Shittymatsu would get him into this mess, but Ichimatsu supposes that the sneaky gesture was only out of care, otherwise Karamatsu wouldn’t have spoken up about a number that concerned him.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it. After a distressing, panic-inducing few hours of waiting and a date with the X-ray machine, the doctor diagnosed him with bacterial pneumonia. That particular diagnosis ensured that he had to be admitted into the hospital under quarantine, because as the doctor explained, bacterial pneumonia is extremely contagious and potentially life-threatening, particularly to someone with a fragile immune system like Ichimatsu. They can’t send him home to infect his brothers or the rest of the community, and even though he isn’t technically immuno-compromised, his tendency to get sick easily means that it’s better for him to be here in the hospital in case things suddenly take a bad turn.

Being in here is like he’s trapped in hell and can’t get out. Because he’s in quarantine, he never sees anybody. Which would be fine normally. Feeling so poorly is a significant reason for wanting his family nearby, though… and he can’t have them.

The most they can do is visit outside his room and talk to him through the speaker system. That’s even worse, seeing them all and not being able to have any real contact with him. Right now more than anything, what he wants is a hug from his mom. God, he wants a hug from his brothers.

It’s hard to even get any rest like he’s supposed to be doing. Most of his time is spent sitting up, trying to get a sufficient breath in while he listens to various TV channels. The idol news reminds him of Choromatsu, sports statistics remind him of Jyushimatsu, game shows remind him of Osomatsu, American dramas remind him of Karamatsu, and fashion shows remind him of Totty.

Those are just distractions, because it’s still hard to breathe. He’s struggling for most of his breaths, but too deep a breath will trigger a coughing fit. Which, in turn, makes it more difficult to breathe.

It’s barely been a day since he was admitted and already he wants out of here.

His brothers visit sometime after lunch, and they spend a few hours. Eventually the nurse gently chases them out, telling them that Ichimatsu needs to try to get some rest. Shortly after that she comes into the room, rolling her little cart with the tray on it.

“How do you feel today, Ichimatsu?” she hums, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Any better than when we admitted you?”

He shakes his head and tries to answer when another series of coughs interrupts him. Although it’s hard to cover his mouth when his whole body is aching, he does his best. After all, he doesn’t want to get anyone else sick. He’s already in quarantine, so all the doctors and nurses are taking their own precautions; still, he shouldn’t just give up and spread his germs carelessly. “N-not really.”

She nods and picks up a wrapped packet from the tray. “Well, to be honest, that’s understandable. It hasn’t been very long.” The packet is ripped open, and the distinct smell of alcohol fills the air as she carefully pushes his sleeve up. “The lack of improvement does concern us, though. So I just have to give you an injection of some medicine, okay?”

Shit. He thought that might be what was going on here. He knows he’s too exhausted to fight it, and yet, his brain evidently isn’t too exhausted to not be fucking anxious about it. “I… I have to get a shot?”

The cold wipe is rubbed against the top part of his arm. “Yeahhh… I’m sorry. This is penicillin, and it’s one of our standard treatments for pneumonia. The doctor thinks you’ll have better luck sitting still for one shot than for a whole pill-and-water deal, since you’re coughing a lot. I kind of have to agree, since you might accidentally inhale some water if you cough while trying to take the pills.”

Immediately he starts to panic. Most of the time the idea of a shot doesn’t bother him more than it might the average person ― he gets the yearly flu vaccine without any problems. Right now, however… the idea of a shot while he’s already feeling so terrible, the initial pinch and the ache that might happen afterwards and being alone, it just feels scary.

The nurse must hear the way his breathing starts to quicken, or maybe the way his hands start shaking. She gives his shoulder a little pat. “Ah, I know on your chart it says you suffer from some anxiety. Are you a bit anxious right now?”

“Y… yeah…”

“Okay. That’s totally fine, you know? Different people get anxious about different things. Would it help if I distracted you, or if I gave you a countdown so you know when it’s coming? Sometimes that helps so it’s not a surprise… or, sometimes people prefer it to be a surprise. Which one do you think would be best for you?”

… Oh. He wasn’t expecting something like that. It almost feels like he has a little control over this, despite the fact that he has to get the injection either way. “C… can you… count down?”

“Sure, of course. No problem.” Then she reaches over with one hand, grabbing the syringe with the other. “Would you like to hold my hand?”

That’s kind of… babyish, isn’t it? “I-I’m not a kid… I don’t wanna…”

She chuckles. “Well, you know, earlier today I held the hand of an elderly lady who was getting a shot. It’s not just a kid thing. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

He takes a moment to consider that, then silently slips his hand into hers.

“Alright, just squeeze if you feel like you need to. I’m all set, are you?”

“I… I think so…”

“Okay, I’m gonna give you the countdown then. Here we go. Three ― two ― one.”

As soon as she says the last number, he feels the needle pierce his skin. It’s uncomfortable, a sharp kind of pinprick pain. There’s a slight feeling of tightness and soreness as the medicine is emptied into his muscle, and a brief jolt when the nurse pulls the needle out.

All in all, even though it isn’t a pleasant experience, it’s not as bad as it could have been. It’s certainly better than choking on a pill and a glass of water if he had to try to swallow the medication.

And, at least, it’s over now.

“There. You did great, Ichimatsu. Probably my best patient of the day!” With that, she sets the syringe back down on the tray and gingerly smooths a bandage with a cotton ball over the injection site. “That should keep you clean just in case any blood trickles out from the shot, and someone will come take it off later if the adhesive starts to make your skin itch.”

He nods and coughs into his arm again, giving a soft groan. He’s just so tired, from the fever, from the coughing, from not being home. “Is it gonna m… khh… make me tired?”

“Haha, it shouldn’t, no. You might feel a little nauseous, or you might have to go to the bathroom more, or you might get a small itchy rash… just press the call button if any of that happens or if you feel strange otherwise, okay?” Her cart is all packed up already, and she’s heading out of the room. “If you get tired, it’s probably because you’re sick and need rest. So, try to sleep as much as you can.”

“’Kay.” He just feels like this illness has drained everything out of him, and there’s a little throbbing where he got the injection. But, the more he sleeps, hopefully the sooner he can recover and go home.

On her way out, the nurse dims the lights. Practically as soon as she does, Ichimatsu’s eyes start to drift closed. God, he’s so tired.

He lies down, though the bed is still a little elevated since sleeping flat will just make him cough more. Sleep tugs at him, and he has to move a little bit so he’s not putting any pressure on the area where he got the shot.

Soon. Soon he can go home.

Just as soon as he gets better.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadows and Pills - 3 (end)

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it. Thank you to all my friends, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield and @glassjacket .

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: Shadows and Pills: Part 1 | Part 2 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills -

3 (end)

Morning routine: Can’t wake up if you never went to sleep.

Alarm clock’s broken, anyway. Can’t…

Shower is too far. Not sure she can stand.

Meds…

Dry swallowing sucks. Maybe...give the doc a call. She could try the emergency number.

Getting locked up has to be better, has to-

She can’t find her phone at first. It takes a while to make it out of her bedroom. Her legs don’t seem to want to support her, and it’s oddly painful on her wrists to pull herself up. Maybe she hurt them when she fell out of bed.

Her vision is wavering, and she has to take frequent breaks on the short trek to the kitchen. She considers trying to eat something. It’s been so long, she can’t remember the last time she-

Oh. No food in the apartment. Yeah, so. No, then. No.

What was…

Phone. Doctor. Emergency number.

She grips the back of a chair, forcing numb feet to shuffle on.

Phone. Doctor. Emergency number.

Another step. One more. But why? She doesn’t even know where the damned phone is, anyway.

Phone. Doctor. Emergency number.

Her new mantra carries her across the small apartment, reminding her sieve of a brain of her purpose, no matter how many times she loses track. When she spots her cell phone no more than ten feet away, she almost weeps with relief, but she can’t spare the energy. She allows a single strangled whimper to escape her cracked lips as she fixates on the black rectangle as the lifeline it is.

One more step. And another. And another.

But the phone remains just beyond her fingertips, just beyond her reach, no matter how close she gets. It takes nearly ten minutes of concentrated effort to realize that she’s no closer to the phone than when she started, that she will never reach it.

He won’t let her.

She drops. There’s...why bother...she’s just so tired. And empty. She can’t remember the last time...the last...she can’t-

She can’t remember.

…

Afternoon routine: She. She is.

She was.

She knows she was, once. She had. And she did. But now she doesn’t, she isn’t, she.

Can’t.

She can’t remember.

She wants to stand, to move, to sleep, to eat, to call...someone, she knows she was going to call someone, but-

She wants anything, anything beyond this slump on the cold, hard floor. But she doesn't have a damned thing left. Her eyes track the shadows as they slowly parade across the room, chasing the setting sun.

A final tear rolls down her cheek when she realizes she can’t remember her name.

And then her tears are gone, too.

You are ready for Me now.

“Who-“

Gentle, infinitely powerful arms lift her from the floor, and she feels the sensation of moving without effort. It’s so nice, peaceful even, not having to make an effort. It’s been a long time since anything was so easy. She wonders for a moment why the fingers pressing against her skin feel so right.

Shouldn’t they be cold? It seems like she’s always been cold, but now, the hands, the arms, her breathing, everything just feels easier.

Better.

Rest now, child. Find your peace. Everything will be easier now.

Then the arms are lowering her, and she knows a moment of panic where she is falling, falling for so long, drowning in the oily, choking cesspool-

Hush now. You will know bliss and joy once more. Accept Me, take Me in, and you need never suffer again. I am your salvation.

She takes in a shuddering breath, and the effort alone nearly steals her consciousness. The pain is creeping back in; she has meds for that, there are pills that could-

I am your opium. Breathe Me in, and I shall flow through you, sing elation in your very blood. No more struggle, no more nightmares, only solace and sanctuary.

So tired. She could do it, she really could, though.

Rest, love. Let me comfort you, take your burdens.

Fingers, perfectly warm and gentle, smooth the furrowed lines on her brow, pressing comfort into the creases, tracing soothing patterns on her delicate, papery skin. For the first time in as long as she can remember, she feels cared for, cherished and comforted.

She’s forgotten everything. And now she’s beginning to forget even that. Why was she fighting? Who was she fighting?

There is no one but Us, My pet. Rest now, I will carry your burdens. Will you let Me heal you now?

The question hangs in the air, heavy and much more than it seems, but Alexa is too tired to battle through the implications anymore. She’s done.

“Yes.”

…

“Glad to see you’ve taken advantage of my vacation to make some progress. How are your sleep patterns the last week or so?”

Alexa surveys the doctor quietly for a moment, considering.

“Definitely longer stretches at a time. There are still nightmares, but I don’t remember most of them.”

The doctor’s pen scratches for a moment, then, “Any flashbacks?”

“Fewer. I’ve been trying some of your other suggestions. The meditation seems to help, especially before bed. It’s easier to fall asleep.”

“Good, good. I’m glad you’re seeing some progress at last. Now, who are we up to this week?”

“Actually, Doctor,” Alexa says, standing and gathering her coat and purse, “I have some work I need to get done and sent in to the office before they close for the day. I apologize for cutting short, but I promise I’ll have more progress to report at our next session.”

She turns away from the doctor, opening his office door and departing before he has time to recover from his shock. There will probably be a worried or stern voicemail on her phone later, but, then again, maybe he’ll be impressed enough by her...progress...to leave well enough alone.

Small blessings.

She presses the button for the elevator, then pauses a moment as she waits. A mirror hangs on the wall next to the elevators, and she studies her reflection carefully. A slow, careful smile spreads over her face, and blue eyes sparkle back at her from the angles and curves of her pleased expression.

“Excellent progress,” she murmurs. The elevator announces its arrival with a diminutive ding, and the doors slide open. Alexa steps inside, still smiling as the doors close.

[binch-i-might-be]

The More You Know

This is the aforementioned short story. It’s unfinished, a blatant Welcome To Nightvale rip-off, and I got extreme whiplash reading it again because one of the characters is named Alex.

Anyway. Can you tell we found out about my grandma’s dementia diagnosis when I wrote this? lmao

also, to reiterate: I wrote this around 2016, I think? It’s been years pls don’t judge me ok :’)

POV first person, wordcount 3.1k

The small town lay in silence, and honestly, that wasn't very unusual. I couldn't really remember a time when it didn't. The shops were closed, the windows all nailed shut with old planks of wood, and in the little corner-store the sign that said 'no help wanted, keep walking' was still firmly in place.

I smiled. It was all exactly like I remembered; exactly like I left it. Like the sign told me, I kept walking, but I didn't hear any steps following. Which was not good, considering I had brought my friend Alex along. He really should keep walking.

I turned, adjusting the backpack slung over my shoulder. »Alex? You need to move,« I said. He stood there, trying to peer into the shop in between the gaps left by the planks. Which was also not very good.

»Why is everything barred? You get a lot of storms here or something?« he asked as he straightened.

»Yes. Or something.«

He frowned, but thankfully caught up to me with a little jog. We continued down the road, in the direction of the woods that never drew any closer, and passed the veranda of Old Lady Miller. Old Lady Miller had a lot of free-running chickens, and it was better not to look at them directly if you wanted to keep your secrets.

She was sitting in her rocking-chair, watching us pass. My grandma once told me Old Lady Miller had already been Old Lady Miller when she was a child, but her chickens hadn't been as many back then.

Alex did another nervous little jog to walk beside me. »Are you sure we should be out here? I mean, no one else is. Maybe there was a storm-warning.«

»Don't worry. It's actually a lot livelier than it normally is.« A chicken crossed the road right in front of us. »Don't look at the chicken,« I told Alex, staring straight ahead.

He looked at me, frowning in confusion. »Why not?«

I looked back at him. »Why did the chicken cross the road?«

»What?«

»To steal your secrets and your memory of every chicken-sandwich you ever ate. Don't look at the chicken.«

He didn't look at the chicken and we got to the crossroad without incident. My family lived straight ahead, at the end of the road, in a nice little house with a nice little garden, bordering the woods that seemed so far away.

»So... what's going on here? Where are all the people? Why are there chicken roaming the streets?« Alex asked, trying to not sound too nervous.

»It's typical, really. Most of the townsfolk doesn't come out if it isn't absolutely necessary. I told you, there's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.« It was understandable Alex was nervous. In my time away from home, I had noticed a slight difference in the happenings of things–not that I thought it made much sense.

»...alright,« he sighed. Still sounded a bit suspicious, though. »So... your brother. You have a brother, right? Does he still live with your parents?«

»It's nice of you to change the subject. But no, he doesn't. Arden likes to live his own life.« And suddenly, we stood in the driveway of the house. Alex looked around, obviously confused, then turned around and looked back. The dirt-road lay winding behind us, despite us having just passed the crossroad a minute ago.

»Don't think about it,« I advised. He looked so suspicious it was almost endearing.

We went up the driveway and up the steps of the veranda. There were four deer-skulls lying in the corner, which was one more than before I'd left, but otherwise, nothing seemed to have changed.

»That's... very charming decoration you've got there,« Alex said, audibly hesitating.

»It's my grandma's. She likes to collect things. You'll see,« I answered. It was the only warning I was allowed to give him. He didn't respond.

I pushed the door open–it was never really locked–and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and burning herbs hung heavily in the air, but it always did, and I would be disappointed if it didn't.

»I'm home!« I called out. My mother came promptly out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh Christmas-tree shaped cookies. It was July.

»Hello, dear! I'm so glad you're back! Your father was getting worried. You know how he gets when you stay out after nightfall.« 

I could almost smell Alex' confusion. Apparently, my mother could, too.

»And who is this young man? Where did you find him?« she asked, excited at the prospect of some fresh blood in the house.

»That's my friend Alex. We met a few months ago.«

»Welcome to our humble home, Alex,« she chirped and went off into the kitchen again, presumably to put the tray down. We stood in silence for a few moments, simply listening to the clattering in the kitchen, but then Alex spoke up.

»What did she mean, 'when you stay out after nightfall'? You have been gone for literal months.« He wasn't suspicious anymore; just a little bit scared. Creeped out. That was alright with me. I turned around to face him, and smiled.

»I would tell you time works differently here, because that sounds mysterious, but honestly–my Mom's just always very confused. Sometimes she still sets the table for five people, even though Arden has been gone for quite a time now. She just baked Christmas-cookies.« It was the truth. My mother really didn't have all her wits together anymore, but that's what happened to outsiders staying here too long.

Alex frowned, but then seemed to remember the existence of illnesses like dementia and kept his mouth shut. She didn't really have dementia, but I decided to let him believe whatever made him more comfortable.

I started down the hall, with Alex following close behind, the floorboards creaking loudly with every step we took. It wasn't easy to sneak in here past curfew; but then, it also wasn't easy to survive past curfew.

In the middle of the hall were three possible directions to choose; as a child I always thought of it as a little crossroad in our house. There were the stairs to our right, laden with potted house-plants and herbs, and also loose dirt lying on the stairs nobody ever bothered to clean up.

To the left was the door to the living-room. It was a big, illuminated room with many windows; that was why we only ever stayed in there during the day. Well, except for my grandma, of course. She stayed there however long she pleased. I thought whatever roamed the woods at night was too afraid to fuck with her.

Up front was the kitchen, where my mother was still clattering around, probably cleaning up after herself. From the kitchen, one could go to our veranda; our second, more relevant veranda behind the house. The veranda overlooking the garden, bordering the woods.

When we were kids, my brother and I were only allowed to play in the garden in the summer, because the days were long then, but that was also the time when the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest.

Well, you couldn't have everything. I stole a quick glance behind me and saw that Alex was looking around curiously. His eyes caught on the wall to our left. It was clustered with stuff–mostly crucifixes my grandma had gathered over the years, even though no one really believed in the conventional gods around here.

Besides those, there were also many family-pictures; my brother and I when we were kids, our family outside in the garden, my parent's wedding-picture, my grandma when she was still young–that one photo of us all gathered in the living-room, playing monopoly. No one knew who took that picture. It was just on the camera-roll one day.

Alex made a confused little humming sound that drew my attention. He was looking at a framed newspaper-article and squinting at the headline.

»Man drowned after breaking into closed swimming-pool?« he read. »It isn't even from around here–it says Hamburg there.«

»Yeah... we only got our hands on that because it's the only document left of my grandfather. My Pa's a little sentimental, you see.«

At that, his eyes widened in terror. »You mean-« He whipped around to the article, then looked back at me in silent horror. »That's your grandpa?! And you framed the article and hung it with your family-pictures?!«

»Well, yes. It's not a big deal. Gran likes to be reminded of him sometimes.«

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. »That's so fucked up, man.«

I raised an eyebrow at him, a little grin fighting its way onto my lips. »You think that's fucked up? Dude, you've come the wrong place.«

Nightfall approached quickly. Well, actually, it didn't; but it sure felt like it, with Alex pacing and mumbling to himself in the living-room while Mom and I watched from the sofa, fairly uninterested. I told her about the things I'd seen and done in the past months and she listened gladly. It was nice to talk to someone from home; everyone else was exhausting to have a conversation with.

I looked out the window in caution, noticing that the sun was setting behind the woods. We needed to leave the room soon. I told Alex as much and was met with a new-found suspicion of anything concerning me and my family. It was ridiculous.

»C'mon, Alex, only yesterday you trusted me enough to come home with me. What happened?«

He stopped his pacing and stared at me for a while, his eyes looking like he was having violent flashbacks of something unpleasant. »This place happened!«

I sighed, uncrossed my legs and got up. »Chill out, dude. Nothing is going to happen to you. At least as long as we leave in a few days time, but we planned to do that anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is.«

He sputtered, seeming to choke on his own words. »Well, first of all, I would have appreciated if you had told me that you basically lived in Night Vale! Secondly–what do you mean 'as long as we leave in a few days time'? I'm feeling slightly threatened here!«

I heaved another sigh. »No one is threatening you. Well, no one is threatening you in particular. It's just that this place does weird things to outsiders if they only stay here long enough–I mean, you've met Mom, so you should know what I'm talking about.«

He looked at the open door my mother had left through a few moments ago, then back to me and repeated that a couple of times frantically. Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice to a whisper. »You mean- when 'outsiders',« he gestured quotation marks into the air. »Stay here long enough, they become... like her? This place gives you dementia?«

Why did he always have the need to find words for everything? »You could certainly say so, even though that's not really it. But for the sake of simpleness–yes. It basically gives you dementia. The people who were born here are pretty much immune to it, though.«

Alex breathed in and out a few times, presumably to gather his wits. »What do you mean, 'pretty'?«

For fucks sake, could he just stop picking all the relevant words out of my sentences?

»Some people are a little easier to influence than other people. No big deal there, though. It only happens like once every generation. I think.«

He stared at me thoughtfully, as if considering my words; and probably figuring out which snippet he would pick out next to make me explain some more.

I glanced out the window again, noticing it was about time we got out of the living-room.

»C'mon, we need to get out,« I said, obviously interrupting his inner monologue. He narrowed his eyes at me, but stepped out into the hall nonetheless. I followed and closed the door firmly behind me.

»Why exactly do we need to leave the room now?« he asked nonchalantly. Ah, Alex. You think you are starting to figure things out, don't you? Keep trying, buddy.

»It's the things living in the woods. You don't want to mess with them–even though things have been considerably calmer since Arden left, we still don't want to take a chance with those fuckers.«

And there he went again, looking extremely uncomfortable. »And what are 'those fuckers'?« He really liked his quotation marks, didn't he.

»Who knows,« I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. The only thing we knew about them was that they came out at night and ate pretty much everything consisting of flesh. Except grandma and Arden, of course.

He frowned in obvious frustration. »Why do none of you people know what's going on around here? You fucking live here!«

His little outburst didn't really impress me, so I simply shrugged again. »Ah, you know. No one really cares.«

»What do you mean-« he began, but I stopped him right there.

»If you fucking say 'what do you mean' one more time, I'm gonna haul your ass out into the garden and leave you there with the Woodkeepers. Fucking watch me, mate.«

He looked slightly taken aback at that, but recovered quickly enough, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe. 

»Is this why you are never impressed by any horror-movie we watch? Because you live in a horror-movie?«

Now, that was hilarious. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing. Alex was first surprised, then pleased with himself.

»Probably,« I answered, grinning.

Mom made dinner and Alex and I set the table. We didn't have anything to do anyways. Grandma was still out on the veranda, pinning shed snake-skins she had found somewhere to the side of the house.

Alex watched her with interest from the window and grandma ignored him. Mom was humming in the background, checking on her meatloaf in the oven. It was the kind of strange domesticity I had missed during my time away.

»You said since your brother had left, the... Woodkeepers, I think you called them, hadn't been as persistent. Why is that?« he asked quietly as I stepped up to him and leaned on the windowsill.

The old oil-lamp illuminating the veranda flickered, and grandma stopped what she was doing for a second to throw a stern look into the darkness beyond, making a shooing hand-motion. The flickering stopped and she continued undisturbed.

I let my head fall against the glass of the window. »Because Arden is... well, he's special. Not special like Gran, but still. Special.«

»If I were to ask how exactly he is special, you would say you don't know, right?«

»Yep.«

He heaved a tired sigh. »How can you live with this not-knowing? It would drive me crazy.«

I smiled and vaguely gestured in my mothers direction. He followed my hand, and his eyes widened comically in understanding.

»No,« he said with an unbelieving shake of his head.

»Yes,« I retorted. »And that's the only thing I know.«

Half an hour later, grandma had come back in and was staring at Alex. She had been at it for a few minutes now, and it had crossed the 'uncomfortable', the 'creepy' and now the 'really unsettling' mark.

Alex looked over at me, seeking help, but I couldn't do anything. Grandma would take her time, no matter what.

Finally, she swept her intense gaze over to me and leaned back in her chair.

»I hope you didn't bring him here to tell us you are marrying him,« she said, with an obvious edge to her voice. Alex managed to look both offended and relieved at once.

I snorted. »Of course not. We are friends, Gran. You know my standards.«

At that, he only looked offended.

»No offence, Alex,« I said.

»Full offence!« Grandma butted in. She stabbed a crooked finger in Alex' direction. »That one wouldn't even last two months here!«

»That may be,« I answered as I seated myself next to Alex and patted his shoulder encouragingly. »But we aren't here to stay and we're also not here to get married. Don't you worry, Gran.«

»Still,« she continued. »Imagine what your father would say if you were to marry that one. I would never hear the end of it!«

I chuckled lowly and Alex threw me a dark glare. 

»I know. Where is the old man, anyway?«

»He went to visit your brother, dear,« My mother said from the kitchen-counter. »He should be back soon.«

Grandma shook her head. »That brother of yours, Arden, he is only making trouble these days. He keeps disturbing the Woodkeepers; they even went and took a chicken from Old Lady Miller! Can you believe it!«

I frowned and looked over at Mom for confirmation, but she kept her back to us. Alex looked as confused as I felt.

»How is he disturbing them? I thought he was off doing his own thing.«

»That is what keeps disturbing them! Arden doing whatever Arden is doing!«

I didn't answer. It seemed very improbable that Arden of all people could be railing up the Woodkeepers, but when grandma said he did, it must be true. And Pa probably wanted to stop him from whatever it was he was doing out there.

Before I could continue my hypothesizing, three gunshots in quick succession sounded outside, breaking the peace and making Alex jump in his seat.

»That's gotta be Pa,« I mumbled to myself and got up. The door swung open as I jogged down the corridor, revealing my father in all his glory. The shotgun with the three barrels was slung over his shoulder and he looked grumpy as usual.

He kicked the door shut behind him and threw the shotgun from him, toppling a big potted plant.

»It's always the same with those three,« he muttered under his breath and unclasped the breastplate he wore for obvious reasons, then ruffled my hair as he walked by.

»It's good you're here, Ryn. I need you to talk to your brother.