#and my parents are fine so far (and mom was the one actually having surgery)

[clanoffelidae]

Trying in vain to explain to the cats that we can’t cuddle for a few days bc I have ringworm on my leg 😔

[winderlylandchime]

THEY GOT THE SHIRTS! I repeat, they got the shirts!! They made us call them on zoom first thing in the morning and when they answered, my mom was holding up the shirts and my dad was just staring at the camera. And my brother who was wearing it went ‘TWINSIES!’ Before anyone could even get a word out. Our mom said there’s no way she’s wearing it because what will the neighbors think, the reply ‘that you care about Brian’ is not the correct answer if anybody wondered. They then again said they will not wear them, to which he immediately went ‘oh so what your saying is that you don’t love me?’ Our dad threatened to disown him to which my brother went ‘I’m 36!’ And my mom lifted the shirt up and went ‘exactly.’ Our mom thinks he needs more therapy to which he said ‘i have (his therapists name)!!’ And my dad immediately went ‘maybe the poor guy is not qualified enough for you.’ Also while trying to convince them to wear the shirts he accidentally revealed that he ripped his stitches cause of the show and they immediately got angry at both of us and threatened to give our numbers out to the sales people that call them and when I asked what did i do, my dad went ‘guilty by association!!!’ All three then continued to argue about random shit until my brother suddenly went ‘i think we all lost focus of what this meeting was about and that is *at this point my dad yelled at him ‘dont you dare point to that damn shirt’ and my brother in the same second pointed to his shirt* BRIAN’ Also a little bts to understand just how over him my dad is cause of the shirt: my brother has 4 friends that our parents basically “adopted” bc either their families aren’t around or they suck. And one day as a joke he said i was his favorite (it was after my brother got a tattoo of a pickle wearing a shirt that says ‘i <3 (his name)) so ever since then their (him + his friends who got matching tattoos) contact names in his phone are ‘not (my name) #1-5’ and then whenever one of them pisses him off he just changes their ranking (so if my brother is #2 -he’s never made it that far up btw- and annoys him he changes it to #5 and the #5 becomes #2) and then he sends them a screenshot in their groupchat. They all care more about that ranking than anything else. So while we were talking on zoom, my brother out of nowhere goes ‘dad why did you text m- NOOOOOOOOOOOOO OH COME ON THATS NOT FAIR I DIDNT EVEN DO ANYTHING!!’ and then shows me the text and it’s a screenshot of his contacts where he changed his name from ‘not (my name) #5’ to his actual name. And all of his friends immediately replied ‘holy shit dude, what did you do? That’s a first’ And as a little sister, i am finding so much joy in this, it has been the most fun I’ve had in months. So that’s what you’ve missed on the episode of My Brother is an Idiot. I do feel like I should say that our parents are actually really amazing and very fun (there’s a reason why all our friends hang out at their house even when we aren’t there) but also I’m sure you all can tell by now that my brother is a special kind of dumbass and they are both over it.

OH MY GOD DEAR SWEET ANON. I am about to start work for today and thank goodness I don't wear mascara because the tears streaming down my cheeks. (Please universe - deliver unto me a client like Brother Anon)

Your parents sound awesome and like they have a great sense of humor. I'm sure they are worried about your brother because of his surgery and not being able to be there with him. The QAF business is just what they can focus on. Also he's a bit unhinged by non-fandom standards. By fandom and tumblr standards, he's just fine. But wow, taking him out of the ranking entirely? Low blow, dad, low blow.

Speaking of the fandom - we are very eager to hear what your brother thinks about Carnivale and the false accusation and "there's nothing noble about being poor."

[occult-roommates]

A bit later, after Athena and Akva went back inside, they caught Paisley on the couch, looking devastated. Nobody else was inside, June and Damian were playing with little Swati in the kiddie pool, so what was she doing here?

Akva: Paisley? Paisley: I’m a horrible person. Akva: Why? What’s going on. Paisley: It’s just...I’m now realizing I’m setting up my daughter to hate herself one day. Akva: Once again, why? Paisley: Well, you know, it’s no secret I had a lot of plastic surgery. I hated myself growing up, and the worst part is I looked perfectly fine. I’m not saying I regret it, but that’s an awful example to give to Saraswati. I hated my curly hair, and the only reason I cut my hair and don’t straightened them anymore is because, and I am not joking, I got a chewing-gum stuck in them a few weeks ago. Everything about me is fake, even my legal name is Peneloppe, I just go by Paisley cause I constantly got called Penis-slope as a kid.  Athena: Well, according to me, if someone doesn’t like their name, they should be allowed to just change it...Maybe I think that because my parents named me fucking Sanjayson when my older sisters are named Asha and Phoebe but you know...I don’t think it should be controversial of a take.

Not only that, but having a lot of surgeries for purely cosmetic purposes was one thing, but then, she had to have surgery for health purposes, and it hit her like a truck she used to go below the knife so often.

Paisley: Like...I’m not actually infertile. I’m sterile, I don’t have a uterus anymore. I have never told my audience so far, I don’t feel comfortable revealing it publicly. Athena: Holy fuck, how??? Akva: You could have asked that in a more tasteful way. Paisley: It’s fine, you can know, I adopted your kid after all because of that. In short, I found out I have endometriosis in my late teen. But then, it got so bad I was nonfunctional, which is why I took an hiatus in 2018. As a last resort, I had to get a total hysterectomy, and no joke, the gyno said it was the worst case she had ever seen in her 30 years career. I’m as barren as they come, no womb, no ovaries, nothing. In my family, women tend to have a lot of kids and as soon as they get married, which you can guess as I got married at 21, tends to happen pretty young. And here I am, 27 years old and unable to to that. I feel like a failure of a woman. Akva: It’s ok Paisley, you’re not a failure, it’s not your fault. And you’re an amazing mom for Saraswati and I know you’ll stay one. Athena: And we were talking about that outside, there is more to being a woman than the ability to have babies! Paisley: You’re a guy, stays out of this please. Athena: Yeah um...I have an annoucement to make...

That was a strange surreal feeling, seeing the vulnerable side of the girl who tried so hard to be the wellness influencer with a perfect life online. Also weird to see that all three of them were not so different after all.

Prev - Next

[theoutcastedartist]

How are you? I hope you are well.

Thank you. I know you probably meant to send this as a light thing, but unfortunately you caught me at a very off time

Warning for VENT post.

Ngl I'm probably gonna come off as super whiny and annoying so if you don't wanna see that, just ignore this. I really just can't fucking take it anymore. I'll probably delete this in the morning when the shame of my actions come to haunt me right before work. Haha. I'm still working on my normal art stuff, if you're wondering.

Technically thing have been good for me, I got my first STABLE job and it's working with dogs! And my manager is impressed with my serious work ethic

haha my overwhelming need to Not-Be-A-Disappointment-And-Prove-I-Am-More-Than-My-Deformities-Despite-Having-Them-Recitfied-With-Surgery-Meaning-Theyre-Not-Even-Noticable-And-Weird-"Girl"-Behavior-To-My-Own-Detriment comes in handy even after high school ... my knees... my ankles... they do not love me...

But yeah, as far as things are going, technically they are going well!

But honestly, I just want to curl up in a hole and cry. Not that I will anytime soon, given how I've learned at this point that me expressing genuine emotion that is not "Chill/Go with the Flow" is such a Weird Thing for everyone around me... I guess I'm still processing that I am An Actual Adult(tm) now and that I'm just too tired and scared of what the future will be... and just how lost I feel about where I even WANT to go in my life.

Especially when I've realized how much of my childhood was spent me being forced to act like an adult because of some of the people and circumstances surrounding my life, so I couldn't really properly, I guess, enjoy it???? There were so many good opportunities I missed, including two years of FREE COLLEGE because of a series of incidents with one of my parents... and medical neglect of my younger sibling's ATV accident injury, which turned into a WHOLE other mess I had to miss almost 2 weeks of school for... right before going online for COVID-19 too... sigh.

Idk I just wish I could have done more with the time I had before graduating high school like 5 months ago. I was top of my class, but now it just feels like I'm letting everyone who ever believed in me for whatever reason down for not immediately going to college.

And like I KNOW it doesn't matter what others think I should or shouldn't do in regards to taking a break from school or just my own life in general, but it still doesn't make it any easier for me mentally I guess. I just feel guilty and awful and like I'm back in elementary school again, except it's with people who now have insanely high expectations of me because I've always "Beaten the Odds Againt Me", "The Will Power to Go Far in Life" or whatever of that sort of bs rather than "Born Deformed, is Weird, and Most Likely Won't Make it Far in Life" kind of expectation.

It just feels like one thing after another and I'm just... so tired of it. I'm tired of forcing myself to spin just shit awful situations as a positive thing for everyone else's comfort (oh a "Learning Experience" or "Now I'm More Prepared for the Future" and "This Would be Good for a College Application" lmaoo)

Especially with all the recent stuff I've realized, like how my parents treat my siblings and I is probably some form of abuse (something I did not want to confront for years) and just how fucking traumatized I am (haha no wonder my fav is Sad Little White Boy from TOH).

And literally yesterday, my mom's car, who I rely on as transport to and from work, broke down when she had gone to take my siblings to the dermatologist to get a mole checked out (turns out it was completely fine and normal, as I 100% expected).

So while I was at work, my younger siblings were stranded with our god awful mother at god knows where since around 10 am, and couldn't be picked up until my brother called my geometry teacher from MY freshman year of high school (and his best friend's mom) to go pick them up, and then come pick me up after my shift ended, which I had no clue about until I was walking out of the door of my workplace and saw them waiting for me, I was fully expecting to walk home that afternoon in my wet and nasty scrubs, reeking like an actual doghouse (cause I work with the doggos as my job), under direct heavy sunlight, and 90 degree heat. So I at least avoided walking then. Today I was lucky enough to have my dad be my transport, and tomorrow morning he can drop me off an hour before my shift starts. Though I'm worried for tomorrow after work and I'm worried about what the weather might be like (given there's a hurricane/tropical storm coming and all that...) and if it'll be safe for me to even walk home.

I don't know anyone at work well enough to give me a ride, no matter how many times my dad tells me to "just ask". The guilt of being any sort of burden to anyone will always be heavier to me than any consequences as a result of not asking or accepting any kind of help. Like I'd rather walk three hours to get home in the pouring rain and risk getting hit by some idiot driver while crossing the street, than ask someone to drop me off on the way when my house is like literally 5 minutes away by car.

It's so stupid I don't even understand why I'm like this and thinking about it makes me wanna cry, but I CANT cry because it's inconvenient for everyone else and I just generally S U CK at processing my own emotions and its a complete waste of time to try and do so and my stupid intrusive thoughts won't leave me the fuck alone when I'm in the middle of doing BASIC ASS CHORES.

And I just fucking resent my parents so much for all the shit they put me through over the years, making me be the "voice of reason" between any arguments between them. They willingly decide to have their fights in front of me and then try to egg me into joining them. Like literally over the period of time where I was stuck at home looking for work online, I would just be eating my lunch at the table in the emptiness of the house and the minute the two of them happen to be under the same roof, they decide to bitch at each other RIGHT IN FRONT OF WHERE I AM EATING.

There is a WHOLE ASS HOUSE for you two to bitch at each other and yet you do it RIGHT. I FRONT. OF. ME. while I'm eating noodles too... asshole.

Hell, my mom is literally the reason my siblings and I ended up in the foster care system for TWO. FUCKING. YEARS. They almost separated me from one of my siblings because of his autism and ADHD (and you know how fuck awful the system is to older kids who are deemed to be "problematic") combined with my "low self-esteem" and Cleft Lip nonsense going on at the time too. I don't even want to think what would have happened had I not begged my fosterdad for two weeks straight to take in my other sibling too. It's super rare for fosterhomes to take in sibling pairs, much less a Trio like my brothers and I.

Nevermind how shitty all the "court ordered" therapists I've ever had are. Literally one of them would belittle me and my problems, acted like I was too stupid to talked to like a normal person. She was suppose to help me with my "low self esteem" with these stupid packets and instead turned it into a trigger for me like 5 years later lmaoooo

Literally happened during my AP psych class, my teacher brought up "low self-esteem" and "fostercare" in the same sentence (and some kid made a Shazam joke I think???) and I immediately had a silent panic attack at my desk with my head down.

God and on top of being a foster kid, my 5th grade teacher just fucking had to OUT ME as one to the entire class. A foster kid to gay parents, you can imagine how that school year went.

Like how goddamn petty as an adult do you have to be to repeatedly target a 5th grader??? No because that shit stressed me out so much at the time on top of everything else, on top of being bullied by the other girls, the teacher even fat shaming me a couple times (when at the time I was VERY unnaturally thin, no matter how much I tried to gain weight.) I legit started ripping out chunks of my hair from my scalp during class and peeling the skin off my fingers with my teeth to the point of bleeding as a very fucking up coping mechanism that "soothed" me. The only reason any kind of school intervention was made because the assistant principal happened to do a classroom observation on my teacher on a particularly bad day for me where the teacher made me sit all the way at the front of the class and the environment of the class happened to be very overwhelming to my brain too. I remember it so vividly too it felt like this fuck awful metallic buzzing noise before everything became totally silent for a good 10 minutes.

I just hope and pray to whatever god or being of higher power out there that I NEVER have to hear that noise ever again. It was just so bad, whatever it was...

I literally still have a couple hidden bald patches than haven't recovered since like the rest of my hair and I still chew at the skin of my fingers at the first instance of me being stressed. They're always so sore...

I'm just so fucking tired. Of everything. I just wanna skip to the part of my life where I'm not walking on eggshells every waking moment of my life. I just wanna have my own space cuddled up on a rainy day with a pet. I wanna be able to cry freely and just not have to worry for once. I can't even remember a time where I was ever TRULY happy, even as far back as elementary school there wasn't a moment where I didn't want to dissappear.

I just want to be held while I cry and be told that everything will be okay, but that's not going to happen so there's no point in hoping for that to ever happen.

ANYWHO I HAVE A ZOOM MEETING FOR WORK IN LIKE 30 MINUTES I AM NOT OKAY :D

[benevolentcalamity]

Moon Elves x Female!Reader

Hiya! Not dead, but my laptop is/has been by the time this gets done lol

I might do an orc next because I like orcs, but whatever I decide, hopefully you guys will join me!

Warning: This story contains SMUT! If you’re not keen on this sort of thing, scroll on.

Content: Cunnilingus, Group sex, breast sucking, all the good stuff I suppose.

Enjoy - may the Darkmoon watch over thee.

“This was a horrible idea.”

For winter breaks, you and your family would head to a home you had in the snowy forests. Not far from civilization but far enough for quietude, it’s a good mix of lively and serene, if those two words could even coexist in one sentence. This home’s been in your family for a good while, since your great grandmother, and has since been given sanction for any needed remodeling. Nobody really liked the prospect of losing this place to the elements.

Hell, even your grandfather said, “If we so rich, dadgummit we are gonna make this house actually bearable.

So why are you here, trodding off into these dark woods with only your flashlight?

Well, your little sister was playing ball with you, and said ball bounced into the woods. Never having seen it land within sight, you told her to wait at the house. Putting on your warmest clothes and grabbing a flashlight, you assured her and your parents you’d be back soon with the toy. Though mom protested, saying that it would be dark soon, you told her it wouldn’t take long, and you’d be perfectly fine.

Now something interesting about these woods that nobody really talks about around the dinner table: People would report strange things happening deep within. There’s been talk over the years - Lord knows how many - of people going missing, returning with strange conditions or the immediate healing of a sickness. Here is where your aunt told you a tale of her husband, your uncle, heading in there with only a shotgun and his cane: an addition to his life with thanks to bullets in his hip. After hours of her waiting for him, he showed up at eleven, buck over his shoulders, no cane to be seen and his body seeming as though it’d never been injured.

When she checked, the surgery scars were gone, just as with any evidence of that crossfire even happening. She claims not to know what he was talking about when she demanded an explanation, saying he was making the most whimsical, outlandish stories she’d ever heard, but when you would ask him yourself, he would lean in and whisper,

”These here woods got magic in ‘em, lassie. Ya find it, and you’ll see I ain’t no liar.”

So, here you trod, the cold seeping through your clothes, with only your flashlight and a knife in your inner pocket in case you ran into wolves or something. What made you decide that it was a good idea to come looking for that stupid toy when the sky’s beginning to turn pitch black?

You swallow, stepping over frosted mushrooms.

”Could’ve brought some hot chocolate...” You shudder, adjusting the thick fabric over your face. “It’s so damn cold...”

Trudging along, you change your hands for your flashlight, putting your free one into your arm to get it warmer. Though, the one begins to tremble, the cold biting through your sleeve at last. Biting your lip, you hurriedly change hands again, pulling your freezing arm in as a cold dread seeps into and stiffens your spine. As your legs threaten to lock, your teeth chatter at the very sound of snow falling from branches mimics a bear or wolf in your growing paranoia.

You hate guns as much as you hate traps, and as such you never went to go hunting to at least learn how to use them. The most you can do right now, matter of fact, is shoot cans with a BB gun: something you’re actually comfortable doing. Now, though, you don’t even have that, and as such you’re practically inviting a bear or a pack of wolves to rip you a brand new face. That is, if this terrible cold doesn’t get to you first.

Did you just condemn yourself to hypothermia? Is this how you’re about to spend your last minutes? Going out into the woods, only for someone to find your freezing corpse, standing or no, and have to go through explaining to your dear sister - she isn’t even seven yet! - that you died to get her toy back.

This is not how you wanted to die...

Graduation from college, your first date, your sister’s sweet 16th-! You wanted to see all of it happen!

“Huh?”

Blinking, you shine your light at a... large circle made from branches? Like something you’d see in a fantasy movie, or even a horror movie. Can’t possibly be man-made; surely nobody has the time or skill to make branches into a perfect circle. With every instinct - birthed from peeking at your parents watching said horror movies - telling you that even going near it is a bad idea, your instinct to just trudge on from possibly being near-death overrides every fear.

Shining your flashlight through the circle, you step through it and press forward. Curiously, as you go forward, the snow sinks from your knees down to the middle of your shin, to your ankles, finally to the soles of your boots. Once you notice this, you also realize your clothes becoming warmer again, until your body is able to sense that you’d have been just fine with a jacket and jeans. Blinking, you brush snow off your shoulders, glancing up at the light poking through the sleeping trees.

Where the sky was pitch black it’s now lighting up with aurora boreal is as far as the eye can see, stars glittering just beyond, seeming to greet you like a long lost friend. Just as sweetly, the crescent moon emerges from a single cloud.

A hallucination, perhaps? A sweet dream to relieve you of the terror of breathing your last breath in unforgiving cold?

It’s... pleasant.

Looking back forward, you blink as fireflies emerge from the snow and trees, illuminating a path for you as the trees begin lighting up themselves. Cracks in the bark illuminate as if veins full of glowing blue blood, translucent white leaves appearing on the branches. Swaying in the cool but forgiving breeze, they too say their wordless greetings as you find no more need for your flashlight, your legs ceasing to tremble as you go forth. Swallowing, you look around, remembering the wayward tales of fairies and princes from when you were a child.

What...?

Swallowing, you find yourself in front of possibly the biggest tree you’ve ever seen. Having to lean back all the way just to see it properly, the very height and width of it reminds you of your brief visit with your dad to the Washington Monument. It’s really that huge and then some, and when you look closer...

Nordic runes? Or are those Celtic? Not really being that skilled in differentiating even with you passing interest in mythology, you frown at bot being able to translate any of them. This is more your own shortcomings as opposed to them being sort of faded for whatever reason, but it would indeed suck either way.

”I’m feeling incredible...” You murmur. “Is this the magic that uncle was talking about?”

Blinking, you flinch as the runes begin to glow one by one, not with the blue aura of the other trees, but rather a vibrant purple. The energy about pours into your body, wrapping gently around your bones and sinking into your blood. Inhaling softly, you close your eyes as you’re enveloped in the purple light, lifted into the air by the tree’s magical embrace. It doesn’t threaten your life, rather it seems to cradle it, filling your senses with the calm serenity and enveloping you in the scent of grandfatherly love.

It feels... incredible.

-..-

You awake to the sound of a waterfall, oddly calm, and occasional movements like animals wading in the water. Reaching up, you rub your eye as you turn onto your side, opening your eyes - and in that moment you wonder if you are indeed dead.

It is indeed a waterfall, pouring into a basin of sorts - occupied by the most ethereal creatures you’ve ever seen.

They‘re human in shape, but with pitch black skin fading into white at their hands and feet. Starlight hair falls perfectly over their skin, styled in different ways that they can be told apart aside from their runic tattoos. One, hair falling straight without any ties or braids, is washing himself under the waterfall, rubbing his neck, looking almost like a model. The other three are either sitting about or wading, equally as beautiful and yet just as strange.

But what sticks out most is their ears, pitch black and... pointy. Long and pointy, in fact, almost like...

”Elves?”

You didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the moment the word pushes past your lips, you get their attention at the same time. Tensing, you bite your lip as the one comes out from under the waterfall. He tilts his head for a moment, as if trying to make sense of what - or who - you are. eventually he does relax, beckoning his kin to stand.

Then, he gives you a smile, extending a hand towards you.

At that moment you realize: All you’re wearing is your bra and underwear. Your instinct would be to cover up, to frantically search for your clothes, but a glance at that elf’s eyes is calming. Forgetting any fear you’d ever had entirely, you stand, glancing down at the water. It more resembles milky dew, or rather just milk, with how translucent it is and how it reflects the lights of the trees.

You softly dip your foot in it. It’s warm, unlike the air around, and goosebumps rage through your body. Clutching your arms, you inhale sharply through your teeth, your legs trembling slightly from the shock.

Blinking, you glance back up, that same elf standing just before you. His expression hasn’t changed from that welcoming smile, his eyes, almost exactly resembling pearls, crinkling slightly. Noting that you’re having some trouble, he reaches his ombre arms up, hands out so you can climb or jump into them. Considering the water is warm and the air is cold, as well as the basin being a bit of a drop into the water as evidence by him being at his hips in the water, he appears more than happy to help you.

Nodding a bit in acknowledgement, he steps closer to the edge, guiding you to kneel so you can put your arms around his neck. Even like this the size difference between you two is prevalent, and he knows this as well. Carefully he pulls you forward, tugging you into him, one arm around your waist and the other under your butt. Breathing in, you cling to him, hurriedly wrapping your legs around his waist as he turns, carrying you further into the basin.

Eventually, as you begin noticing the other three elves moving closer, the one sets you onto a rock, softly stroking your arm in reassurance. Lifting your chin with his index, he leans in slightly, face falling into calm serenity. Turning, he cups his hands, collecting some water and moving to hold it over you. Gently pouring the water over your shoulders, he slightly snickers at how you shiver at the clash between warm and cold, repeating the process until your underwear is soaked through. Moving your legs off his hips and into the water, he softly swishes the water onto your skin, momentarily glancing up at you as he kneels down.

His touch is kind, his treatment caring, and he shows all of it without a word.

Sliding his hands up your legs, he gives you a coy smile and finds your soaked panties. Poking your tongue out to moisturize your lips, you nod, lifting your legs so he can pull them off. His lips stretch to show slightly pointy teeth as he does, hanging your panties on a nearby shrubbery. Getting back upright, he leans back in, nose to nose in you. Becoming lost in his milky eyes, you absentmindedly wrap your arms around his neck, and needing no more of an invitation he cups your face with one hand, kissing you with the same sweetness his hands have treated you with thus far. In moments his tongue softly pushes into your mouth, sliding across and underneath as though in a delicate dance.

Getting lost in his kiss too, your one hand goes to the back of his neck as you feel one of the others going behind you. His minibraids tickle your back as his hands unsnap your bra, your arms lowering and letting him slide it off. Gasping a little into the one’s mouth, you moan as your breasts are kneaded like dough and your tongue is sucked on slightly.

Oddly, this is where names are shot into your head.

The one kissing you is named Eli‘vah; the one fondling your breasts is Mih’qua.

Eli’vah’s one hand slides down your body and between your thighs. Gasping slightly, you spread your legs completely, and he smiles against your lips, sucking in your tongue again as he pushes his fingers inside you, already just barely finding your spot. Leaning back slightly, your arms fly up and onto his shoulders, moaning into his mouth as his fingers pump inside you. Curiously he moves to your side, your head turning with him, and you whine as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

Swallowing, he momentarily parts and you pant, face flushed as he places soft kisses on your face. Mih’qua moves one hand below your leg, the other on your back, and lifts you with Eli’vah’s help. They loop your arms around their shoulders as two more approach, taking their places as Eli’vah moves back in front of you, kneeling down and supporting your thighs. Leaning, his tongue slithers out and into your folds, licking you out with the same care, but hiding a hunger yet to burst from him and bring him to consume you. Before long he latches on, tongue pushing even further than his fingers - and consequently finding your spot. Gasping, you throw your head back, moaning loudly as you’re licked out with fervor, the other two elves - Tri‘vae and Qua’lit - latching onto your breasts like babies.

Mih’qua, back behind you, is the one to hold your head now, kissing you upside down as his kin suck you up as though intending to dry you off with their mouths. Trembling slightly you hand onto Tri’vae and Qua’lit’s shoulders as they strengthen their suckling. As if vying for your milk, they use their free hands to knead, as if to get you to make some for them. Feeling an unfamiliar hotness in your legs, you arch your back, Eli’vah sensing what’s coming and sucking harder, holding on tightly.

Momentarily breaking from Mih’qua, you cry out in orgasm, all sucking and manhandling pausing to let you calm down from the aftershocks. They put you back down on the rock, keeping close so you don’t slip. Once you relax again, it’s Eli’vah that returns to your middle, rising a bit and reaching down. Before you know it, he rests possibly one of the biggest cocks you’ve ever seen - proportionate to his large frame of course - on your belly.

This place is feeling more like a dream, in how light you feel and how you don’t feel any fear even knowing what the five of you are doing. You’re not afraid of the pain of sex anymore; they’ve taken great care to prepare you, even giving you the opportunity to shoo them away. That you’ve invited them, allowed them this much, and they’ve accepted whenever you’ve felt uncomfortable and acted accordingly. It’s almost too perfect, and yet it’s far from fictitious. How they embrace you, giving you soft kisses in places you’d never known were tender; how they adore you even without speaking a word.

Your hands on Tri’vae and Qua’lit’s shoulders each, you use your hips to guide Eli’vah’s cock, his chest bouncing with a chuckle as his large hands move to hold them. Gasping as the head pushes inside with ease, you lean your head back, relaxing your body as he slowly slides forward, watching you envelop him completely. This time, he touches your spot the first time, hardly even trying, only moving when your body adjusts to him. Once you nod, he moves your legs to his shoulders, slipping in deeper from the very action.

Voice erupting in a moan, you tug Mih’qua down to your lips. Accepting your invitation with courteous enthusiasm he wraps his tongue around yours, cupping your face as the other two return to your breasts. As Mih’qua about conquers your tongue, they nibble and knead, as if attempting to encourage your body to make milk for them.

“A-aah!” You squeak, Eli’vah beginning to thrust.

Holding your shins expertly in his hands - far from mishandling you, it‘s simply how big he is - he moves just right, not drilling you or being too careful. Hair tickling your chest, he leans forward to move his hands on either side of you, softly smiling down at you as you break from Mih’qua, needing to breathe.

It’s not drawn out, not catching you by surprise by suddenly changing positions, rather it’s gentle and not meaning to sap you of your energy. Not yet, anyway.

”C-cum with me...” You breathe, feeling him swell inside you as well.

Leaning down to catch your lips in a kiss, he briefly loses control, speeding up slightly before cumming once; twice; three times. Feeling it seep down your body and onto the rock, you pant lightly as he softly pulls out, beckoning Mih’qua.

Now the one preparing to make love to you as Eli’vah had, he prepares you by kneeling down slightly, fingering you as Tri’vae and Qua’lit part from your breasts, holding your hands and waiting patiently for their turn.

They’re going to take turns, and this they do with finesse, until your belly swells from their seed, and you tire. When you do, they move you to dry land, where they embrace you, warming you with their bodies, hands on your belly, as you drift into slumber with a serene melody sung by the voices into the gentle winter breeze...

-...-

You don’t quite remember the events from then on, but the story you heard from your dad is that your uncle went looking for you at dawn and found you fast asleep in front of the very same circle of branches. When both of you looked, your belly was still swollen, now with a rune, harmless in nature and protective in magical energy, above your belly button.

That’s when you understood, as did he: The two of you witnessed firsthand the magic in the forest.

You’re back at the house now, resting in your room, still thinking back to the night you had with the elves. Even when you eat you can’t seem to dismiss the lovemaking as but a dream, for why else would your body be like a water balloon, and your mind racing by the hour?

By the time night fell again, uncle advised you to stay in, having heard a pack of wolves, and so you resign yourself to doing just that. With a black shirt and flannel pajama pants neatly folded on the bathroom vanity, you sigh, hand falling to your belly. Wordlessly watching as the steam blurs your naked image in the mirror, you turn and step into the shower, breathing in and closing your eyes.

When you fall into bed to slumber, you feel the familiar hands welcoming you, guiding you into the sweet landscape of ancient dreams...

[collisiondiscourse]

does your mother know? (bkdk mini fic)

Inko knows a lot about Katsuki Bakugou.

She knows that he’s quick. Clever. He is a boy with an exceptionally talented mind and strong resolve. He’s hardworking, responsible, and independent. She knows Katsuki’s favorite color is actually dark green and that he can’t bring himself to eat anything without a bottle of hot sauce by his side.

She also knows that he’s hurt her.

Not directly, of course. Inko rarely talks to the boy, despite knowing so much about him. Even with his complex relationship with his parents, she knows he has at least a bit of respect for his elders. He’s been calling her ‘Auntie’ since before he'd learned how to write, and as far as Inko knows, Katsuki hasn’t dropped the habit since.

Katsuki has never hurt Inko directly, but he has hurt Izuku. And to a mother like her? That’s practically the same thing.

“Oh darling, you tell me so much about this Kacchan of yours! I feel like he’s practically my friend too,” she’d say softly, gently. Her baby had the tendency to put people on a pedestal, but she could never be mad at Izuku’s best friend. Katsuki had done so much for her baby, had been such a prominent figure in Izuku's childhood that Inko couldn't help but adore him too by extension.

She missed those early summer days. Of bright sunny afternoons before quirks had come in. Nice outdoor lunches where her son would bask in the light and play with other kids in carefree and reckless delight. Inko misses the days where she could brush the hair from Izuku’s face and see endless freckles only instead of scars. Of arm injuries that merely needed a kiss and a bandaid rather than back-to-back surgeries and one too many comas for a boy his age. These were the days Izuku would excitedly come up to his mama and tell her of his newest friend with the spikiest blonde hair and prettiest red eyes who liked the color green and ate anything spicy.

But, alas, Inko knows better than most that happiness can be such a fickle thing.

When Izuku first came back home in tears with a new bruise or two and the mention of blond hair and red eyes became unspoken vigils of fear, Inko thinks that was the first time she was ever truly angry with someone.

With Hisashi, her ex-husband, there was at least warning. When he left her and Izuku, she was at least resigned to that fate. She’d come to terms long ago that Hisashi just couldn’t be a part of the picture, and that was fine. Izuku didn’t need someone like him anyway, and Inko would do her damn best to be enough for the both of them.

But Katsuki?

Katsuki was supposed to protect her boy. To be the one who could hold him and care for him when she couldn’t. He wasn't supposed to hurt Izuku—to make him feel like he was useless and unloveable and all the things they both know Izuku’s not. She trusted him like no one else to make Izuku happy and hold his hand through the end of the world. Inko was so afraid of leaving. Of letting Deku go where she couldn't follow, but Katsuki had, once upon a time, eased those fears.

The callousness had stung, yes, but the betrayal had felt worse.

Inko knew she was going to have to clean up after her baby's broken heart eventually. Someday, she knew, someone would take advantage of his bleeding heart (—so much like hers. He always did take after his mom more anyway--) and crush it. In fact, she was even ready for the possibility that it would be his very own Kacchan who broke his heart.

But certainly she didn't expect him to break it so badly.

So Inko quietly seethed. The rage of a mother like Inko is one that is quiet and unrelenting. Its one that simmers and smokes, not surrendering to the drag of time or sickeningly sweetened smiles of blinded authorities who see people as merely extensions of their quirk.

For years she was a quiet storm, a bulwark of disapproval. Katsuki never stepped in their home since—and even if he'd properly tried, she would have shut him out immediately. Talks of loud-mouthed children and fireworks that danced over a festival sky were redirected to the comforting distance of big smiles and red white and blue costumes.

Inko Midoriya's love for her son was the scissors with which she used to cut Katsuki Bakugou out of her life.

"...I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but—"

(But somehow, in some way, those scissors brought her now to a present where a 16 year old Katsuki Bakugou had escaped to her from the confines of a hospital.)

"You don't." Inko softly, quietly spoke in. She says it as gentle as the day she told Deku she'd almost felt as if Kacchan was her friend too. Her tone this time is unyielding. Cold and sharp as a knife.

Izuku deserved more than him.

"You don't deserve my forgiveness. Or Izuku's." She opens the door a little more and looks at the blond teenager who'd knocked at her door at 5 AM on a weekend. "So tell me why you're here, Katsuki-kun."

Katsuki flinches, a faint look of surprise and maybe resignation flickering across his features. Inko, to her credit, feels slightly ashamed for the rude way she speaks to a literal child.

It’s not only his fault. I should’ve done better, too.

"I know. I know I don't deserve De—er, Izuku." He starts. Ruby red eyes searchingly stare into hers and she feels less like he's talking to her and more like he’s talking to himself.

"He's... brilliant. Smart. Talented. Strong. He's Compassionate, kind, loving, adorable—ah, shit. A hero..." A sigh escapes into the pause. Inko can't tell whether its hers or Katsuki's. "...Everything I'm not."

"But I'm not gonna waste time enumerating all the things I did wrong because I know there's plenty and I can only sit down and apologize to you properly once I've already spoken to Deku, but I wanted to at least say something else."

Inko quirks a brow up. She sees him pull a crumpled and slightly stained paper from the back-pocket of his shorts, the sloppiness contrasting from the ordinarily organized boy she has used to know. He stares right back, beckoning for one last nod of approval so she still has a chance to shut the door in his face.

Inko doesn’t

"Go ahead, Katsuki-kun. I'm listening."

And for the first time for over a decade of waiting and comforting and crying and avoiding, Katsuki Bakugou is on Inko's front porch because he wants Izuku Midoriya.

"What I wanted to do," the blond starts, clearing his throat and training his eyes on the piece of paper he's evidently practiced and recited from a hundred times before. "was promise you something."

Katsuki coughs into his fist, blushing.

"I wanted to promise you many things, actually, because I know that an apology means jack-shit if I don't change how I act first. Also, because I know that I never break promises, you know that there won't be any going back from my word."

"First, I want to promise you, that I will take care of your son. I will take care of Izuku Midoriya for as long as I am alive and capable of it, even if it means nearly dying over and over just to save his reckless ass. I will take care of Izuku Midoroya not only because I need to make up for years of hurting him, but because now I've realized I truly want to."

Hesitantly, almost as if worried of all things, Katsuki peeks up at Inko through his bangs. His gaze is questioning. She hums, almost disinterested and dismissive as if asking 'is that it?'. 

Katsuki quickly continues on.

"Second, I want to promise you that I will be there for your son. I know that for years I've been the reason why he cries, so now that I have the opportunity to prevent it I—"

Inko nearly yawns. She'd feel guilty, if she har the energy in her to . There’s a certain... devious delight she takes in seeing the Great Katsuki Bakugou stutter and stumble and somehow fail to impress her. Inko is not normally a mean or even relatively bitter woman, but the past year alone of seeing Deku stumble and fall and hurt because of the failures of those who were meant to protect him had changed the way she saw things. Changed the way she trusted people with the happiness and wellbeing of her son.

She wonders in that moment if Katsuki knows this.

 Her aborted noise of resignation brings Katsuki’s gaze to her. She sighs and gestures him to go on, but... he does not.

The blond looks down at the paper in his hands and huffs a breath through his nose.

A pause.

To Inko's surprise, Katsuki rips up the paper and turns to face her, eyes flaring with passion and vigour. A hand comes up to pat the area above the wound where she knows Shigaraki had impaled him from.

"This? Is proof."

Inko's brows furrow. "Katsuki-kun? Are you alright? Maybe you should return to the hospital now—"

"No!" the blond growls. "Auntie, listen. This is proof." He pats the bandaged area beneath his hospital gown once again.

"This is proof that I love your son so fucking much. This is proof that I would follow Izuku to the ends of the goddamn earth, to certain death even, for as long as he will have me."

"Now I cannot stress how much I realize I've fucked up through the years, but Auntie I love him so much it hurts."

Frantically, red eyes meet familiar but still different green ones. Katsuki practically crumbles with every word, but at least now Inko is listening. He grabs unto her arm, holding her and grounding them both in that moment--because within the huge rift between the two of them that had developed over nearly a decade, their heart’s core remains the same and it is to love Izuku Midoriya.

(Inko starts to understand why her son seems to think those red eyes are a reflection of humanity itself with the way they look at her with pain etched into every feature.)

“I don’t fuckin’ know if everyone’s felt like this or if I’ve been fucked up for a while, but just looking at him tears me inside and out. So, I have to ask you a few questions--”

A sharp, rattling intake of breath.

“--because Auntie, is it normal that loving him burns my lungs and weighs down my tongue? Auntie, is it normal that when I feel pain it’s practically nothing but when it’s his I feel like dying ten times over? Auntie, is it normal that loving him makes me feel like I’m everything and nothing at all? 

“Because if it is Auntie, I need you to tell me how you fucking do it. I need you to tell me how you survive loving Izuku Midoriya.”

"I love him so much it fucking scares the shit out of me. I love him so much that I lashed out and hurt him for years—and when I finally learned to not fuckin' hurt him over it, I never fuckin' learned how to stop loving him!"

Katsuki crumples and Inko's heart feels like it's withering.

"—I love him so much," he sobs, avoiding Inko's gaze because some things never change. "that I don't even care that he won't ever love me back."

Inko starts. "Oh, Kacchan—"

"Stop, Auntie.” The blond growls out from his position knelt on the floor. Her hand comes to gently pet at blond spikes, reminding her again of those old summer days. He shakes between her fingertips like the rattle of a bombshell that she knows all too well and so she listens to him and stops.

Stops being a quiet storm, a bulwark of disapproval.

The silence hangs between them so fragile and tender--it persists like it does in Izuku’s hospital bed where he lays comatose and recovering. There’s a tension that’s there, that’s been there for years but is now slowly dissipating. A struggle between understanding and disagreement, that rattles their chests down to their very core. Between the two of them, the two people that love one boy the most, what words were Inko supposed to fill such silence up with? 

What words could encapsulate all that those two were in that moment except for ‘love’, ‘atone’, ‘protect’, and ‘Izuku’?

“Does your mother know?” Inko asks instead, softly. Gently. She doesn’t specify, but only a deaf man would miss what she was talking about. From his knelt position  by Inko’s feet, Katsuki looks up at her with an odd sort of look in his eyes.

“She does now.”

[stargazer-sims]

Time Machine - Three Is Our Lucky Number

((this is going to be a full-fledged scene at some point, but anyway... enjoy!))

((also... if you need an explanation for how this could happen, click here))

Fox: Takahiro, can you believe what we just did?

Taka: I think I’m still trying to… what do you say? Get my head around it.

Fox: Tell me this isn’t the craziest, most amazing day of our lives so far.

Taka: This whole year has been crazy and amazing. I don’t know how to explain it. It doesn’t feel real in a way, but obviously it is. Here’s our son, to prove it.

Fox: And our other son, and our daughter.

Taka: Three. Maybe that’s the part my brain can’t process.

Fox: Maybe everything’ll be easier to process once we’ve had some rest.

Taka: Maybe.

Fox: How are you doing over there? I should’ve asked as soon as they brought you back.

Taka: I’m tired. It’s hurting a little where the incision is, so I think the medication is wearing off already. I’m happy, though. How are you?

Fox: Tired too, but I’m pretty comfortable. I’m on my second round of pain meds now, after all. And I’m beyond happy. I can’t even imagine how this could’ve turned out better.

Taka: It would’ve been better if you could’ve been with me.

Fox: I wish I could’ve been with you too, but one of us had to go first.

Taka: I know.

Fox: At least your mom and dad were with you.

Taka: I couldn’t have done it without them there. I wish I’d had you, but I’m not sad about having them instead.

Fox: I’m glad you and your mom were with me. I needed both of you holding my hands through the whole thing.

Taka: I know you were scared, but you were very brave.

Fox: I was scared, but not as much as I thought I'd be. Were you scared?

Taka: For myself, a little. I was more worried for you, because of your anxiety and because surgery… It’s more risky for you.

Fox: I was scared for you in general. You know, just wishing I was able to be with you, and worrying about whether you’d be okay.

Taka: I was okay with my parents. I’m really glad they could be here.

Fox: Me too, and I'm glad they're going to be able to stay and help us for a while.

Taka: Do you think your parents will visit us later?

Fox: Do you actually want them to?

Taka: If you want me to be honest, no, but these are their first grandchildren. I thought that would be important.

Fox: Mom might come to see them. I doubt Dad will. Not after all the stuff he said about them before they were even born.

Taka: Let’s not talk about it.

Fox: Agreed. We have better things to talk about anyway.

Taka: Yes, such as names. Do you still think it's okay to give one of them a Japanese name?

Fox: I'd be totally fine with giving all of them Japanese names if you wanted to. I liked most of the ones you added to our list.

Taka: Matsu was your favourite, right?

Fox: Yeah, because it makes me think of Yukimatsu. Reminds me of where we met.

Taka: Me too. That's why I chose it. So, this is Matsu, and you have our Camellia over there.

Fox: I think Camellia was always going to be the first name on our list for a girl, wasn't it?

Taka: Our winter flower.

Fox: Our little mid-winter surprise, because the medical technicians kept saying she was going to be a boy. Let's just say I was shocked when I heard, "It's a girl."

Taka: I thought I didn’t understand what the doctor said at first. That’s why I asked her to repeat it. But, I'm happy about it. I like surprises.

Fox: Especially surprises like this, right?

Taka: Right. So, Matsu and Camellia, and...?

Fox: Forest.

Taka: I like it. That was the first boy name you added to the list.

Fox: After all the boy names you added.

Taka: Because I was certain Matsu was a boy, even before we found out.

Fox: At least somebody was certain about their sexes. So much for the wonders of medical technology. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but... you know.

Taka: I know. We probably have to re-think our birth announcement now. We can't make the cards all blue any more.

Fox: Don't worry. I already have an idea. When I'm feeling better, I'm going to draw something, and then we can have it printed on postcards. All our friends and family members will get some art along with our news.

Taka: Oh... imagine our baby shower. It's a good thing we decided to wait until after they came to do that. Camellia might be wearing a lot of blue if we didn't.

Fox: Do you get the feeling it's going to be all about her from this point?

Taka: A little bit, yes, but we'll just have to try to spoil them all equally.

Fox: *laughing* I can see we're off to a great start already.

Taka: What? I think there's a good kind of spoiled. Being spoiled and having rules isn't... mutually exclusive. That's how it's called, right?

Fox: Yes, and I don't think you're wrong. We'll have to make sure we've got the right balance, that's all. I imagine it'll be a lot of trial and error, but we'll figure it out. We'll be all right.

Taka: Together, we'll always be all right.

Fox: You're right. Together, I'm sure we can do anything.

[auroracalisto]

all the lost things

summary: the reader has always been close with Ms. Mead.  growing up, she went to her neighbor for comfort, hiding from her abusive parents.  but one day, she just disappears.  when she comes back, michael is there, on a path to purify the world.

pairing: michael x reader

word count: 3.9k words

warnings: talks of the antichrist, religious undertones, abusive parents, physical abuse, reader ends up in hospital, reader is stabbed but nothing is said other than she was stabbed, cussing, blood, death, major character death (mead), follows the plotline in the show but not exactly

a/n: no notes, head empty.  also word count could be 4k but it was like 90 words off and yeah

Ms. Mead was always there for [Your name].  No matter what had happened, no matter how her parents had treated her, Ms. Mead was there.  Her parents would hurt her, tease her, ridicule her for her relationship with the renowned Satanist.  They hated the fact that their little “angel” was friends with such a nasty type of woman—and even though they were hypocritical to the highest extent, they stood by that.  She helped to patch her up on particularly bad days.  Ms. Mead had offered time and time again for [Your name] to take a bed in her home, but [Your name] never accepted the offer.  She already helped so much—she never wanted to burden her even more. Not to mention the fact that Ms. Mead hardly knew of everything that occurred.  [Your name] quite often kept most of what happened to herself.  

Ms. Mead was more of a parent to her more than her shitty birth parents.  And when [Your name] went missing, she was understandably concerned.  However, Michael had shown up.  There wasn’t much she could do to find you, especially since you were never listed as missing with the local law enforcement, and the two of them (Ms. Mead and Michael) had yet to figure out just how far Michael’s powers would go, and how soon it would take for him to grow into them.

Ms. Mead waited anxiously for you to return, from wherever you had run off to. It was nearly two weeks after Michael had gotten there.  Two weeks of Ms. Mead leading Michael around and showing him how to live—showing him what life was all about with the loving care of a Satanist mother.  

On a sunny Tuesday afternoon, Michael sat at the dining room table, eating a ham and cheese sandwich.  Ms. Mead was washing dishes, looking over at the boy as a knock sounded at the door.  

“Do you mind getting that?  I’ll be right there, I just have a few more to do.”

Michael gave a small nod, and he sat his sandwich down before he stood and walked over to the front door.  He opened it without wasting a second, seeing a battered woman standing there.  He furrowed his eyebrows at the woman, looking at her arm slung in a cast and her bruised eye and split lip.  She uncomfortably shifted on her leg—while she didn’t have anything on it, it was obvious that she had hurt it.  If she were to bend down, surely her abdomen would kill her.

“Is… is Miriam here?” she asked.

“Who are you?”

The black-haired woman showed up behind Michael.  Her eyes went wide. “[Your name]?”  She quickly moved to hug her.  [Your name] flinched but she hugged back, carefully using her other arm to pat her back.

Michael could see the healing bruises that littered her arms.  “Where the hell have you been, girl?” she asked, looking at her in disbelief.  “What happened to you?”

She took her free hand and turned to look at Michael.  “Shut and lock the door behind us.  Can you get her a change of clothes?  Just sweatpants and a shirt. Hurry.”

Michael blinked slowly but did as he was told.  

Ms. Mead lead [Your name] into the dining room, sitting her down.  She brushed some of the hair out of her face back as she sat across from her.  

“I looked for you, but I couldn’t find anything.  Where were you?  Did you lose your phone?  What happened to the one I gave you for emergencies?”

[Your name]’s beautiful eyes couldn’t meet hers.  She shifted in her seat, taking in a sharp breath when her stomach slightly rubbed against the table she was seated at.  The last time Miriam had interrogated her like this was when she had accidentally broken her sofa and not said anything—and that was nearly seven years ago.

“Uh,” she closed her eyes.  

“I got them,” Michael interrupted.  Of course, he didn’t know he had.  He brought the clothes over and sat them beside Ms. Mead before he sat back down at his sandwich.  He attempted to ignore them but found himself listening to their conversation anyway.

“He found it.”

Miriam’s eyes widened.  “What?”

[Your name] just shrugged, wincing as she did that.  “Yeah.  He found my emergency phone.  And then, he found my go back.  I… I had it packed.  I was ready to leave, Miriam,” she said, leaning back against her seat.  “I was ready to leave and come here,” [Your name] weakly smiled.  “Guess that didn’t happen.”

“Wait, wait, what does all this have—” Miriam stopped herself.  “What did your father do to you?” she softly asked, her warm hand going over the top of [Your name]’s.  

“He beat me until I was unconscious, and then I guess he and my mom dropped me off at the hospital.  I didn’t have anything on me.  My ID is gone, I don’t have my phone.  Everything was stripped off of me save for my clothes. They said I had gone into a coma, but like… they also had to do an emergency surgery because I had been stabbed.”

“He stabbed you?” Miriam felt her face burn with rage.  She couldn’t believe this.  She knew [Your name]’s parents were shit, but she never believed they would do anything like that.

She gave a small nod.  “They’re gonna have to bill me somehow.  I… I might have given them a fake name when I came to.  Let’s see if they can.  That’s also… probably why you couldn’t find me,” she weakly smiled.  

“What did you use?”

“Lucy Moore.”

Miriam rolled her eyes.  “Of course, you did.  I wondered why that sounded so familiar.  I saw it in the newspaper but didn’t think much about it.  Damn. You’ve used that since you were a child,” she huffed softly.  “You’ve been there for nearly two weeks, [Your name].  Are you okay?”

[Your name] shrugged.  “I’m as good as I can be, Miriam.  There’s not much to be said.”

Michael hadn’t touched his food.  He stared at the [color] haired woman for the longest time before he spoke up.

“Why are you here?” he asked.  “You’re not home?”

Miriam looked over at the boy with a frown.  “Michael.”

“No, he’s got a point,” [Your name] sighed.  “I can’t go back.  Not because of this.  But… Miriam, they’re gone.  They’ve completely moved out.  Left and everything.  The house is on the market.  Saw the sign when I was walking by.”

“You walked all the way here?” Michael asked, his eyebrows furrowed.  “From the hospital?”

“Took me about an hour, but yeah,” [Your name] said.  

The resilience she had made Michael’s heart skip a beat.  But perhaps that was also from the immense anger building up in the pit of his stomach for two people that he had never met.  Michael clenched his fists under the table, looking towards his half-eaten sandwich with a type of malice that would burn a human.

His sandwich lit on fire—the bread and meat and cheese immediately being consumed by reds, oranges, and yellows.  

[Your name]’s eyes widened, and she quickly turned to face him, despite the burning pain she felt from doing so.  

Miriam watched with wide eyes, a smile growing on her lips.  When the fire had completely gone out, as it was only contained to his food, she grinned at him. “This is Michael, my dear,” Miriam said.  “He’s been staying with me since you disappeared.”

“How—how did he—”

“—he’s the Antichrist, dear.”

Well, there was no hiding that.  Michael quickly looked up at Miriam, surprised that she told [Your name] so quickly.  

[Your name] furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, before she gave a small nod. “Right, so, you—you made that fire all on your own?” she asked.

When Michael nodded, [Your name] turned to face Ms. Mead.  

“Can I take a shower?” she asked.

Michael blinked a couple of times.  The woman wasn’t afraid of him—that struck him as odd.  She had just been dropped with the news that would bring the end of times—and yet, she just asked his adoptive mom if she could take a shower.

Who was she?

Miriam nodded.  “We’ve got to cover up your cast.  Can’t risk it getting wet,” she said, going to find some plastic wrap in the kitchen.

Michael stared the injured woman down for a moment.  “You’re not afraid?”

She looked over at him with a frown.  “Why would I be?  After everything I’ve been through,” she said, sucking in a breath as she slowly got to her feet. “Seeing my parents burn would be the best thing since I found Ms. Mead. Seems like she just keeps collecting lost things, huh?”

[Your name] smiled towards him, and he returned it, albeit shyly.  

Despite the wounds on her face, Michael thought she was beautiful.  To [Your name], the man was just beautiful.

She knew all the stories about the Antichrist.  Her parents used to spew Revelations at dinner like it was just normal gossip.

He would be beautiful, have immense powers (even though she was unaware he was still trying to get his powers under control, as his Antichrist nature had just been awoken not too long ago), and in everything that came from what her parents said, she remembered one and thought about it more often than the others: he would be perfect.  

Michael was perfect.

Miriam came back with a yellow box of plastic wrap.  She began to open it up.  

“Will you be okay showering by yourself?  Can you take your clothes off by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving the woman off.  Miriam just smiled and began to wrap her cast.

“While you do that, I’m going to run to the store and buy some actual clothes for you.  You have some here, but not a lot.  Don’t worry,” she said, finishing up the multiple layers of plastic wrap.  “I still remember your size.  And your favorite scent is…?”

When she told her, Miriam smiled.  

“Good.  I’ll get some things with that as well.  Oh, my [Your name], it’s so good to see your face again,” the woman said.  “I’ll be back.  Michael, stay home.  I’ll just be a few minutes.”

When Miriam left, [Your name] went to shower.  Michael didn’t know what to do, so he went to his bedroom, reading a book that Miriam had stocked on his bookshelf.  Of course, he didn’t realize it was the Satanist Bible until after he started reading it.  However, he was completely distracted by it and was only brought out of his intense reading session when he heard loud cursing coming from the bathroom.  

Michael frowned a bit and marked his page with a piece of scrap paper from his desk.  He quickly got up and went to the bathroom, knocking on the door.  

“Are you okay?” he asked.  

“Uh,” [Your name] began, trying her best not to sound like she was in pain.  “I—yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”  Her voice shook as she tried to get up.  She had fallen in the shower.  The stitches in her side hurt like a bitch, and the pain she had in her leg would stay for a while—her doctor had told her it was a pretty bad sprain, but that it would heal eventually.  And with only one hand available to get herself up, she was stuck at the bottom of the tub.  

“You don’t sound fine…”

[Your name] clenched her jaw and took in a deep breath.  “Could you—I…  I need help.  I fell,” she said.  

Michael immediately went to open the door.  

“Wait!”

Michael stopped in his tracks.

“You can’t look at me.  Keep your eyes closed.  Please.”

[Your name] wasn’t scared at the fact that he would see her naked—she was more scared of the fact that he would see how damaged her body was.  She should have been more scared of her naked body—in all reality, she had just met him.  

Michael opened the door, making sure that she saw his eyes were closed.  He walked into the bathroom and quite literally ran into the toilet.  

“I—take like two steps to the left—”

Michael did as he was told.  

“Wait, no, I’m sorry, it’s your right—” she stopped herself and squeezed her eyes shut.  “Just… Just open your eyes.  It’ll be easier.”

“Are you sure?” Michael asked.  His voice was soft, like buttercream on a birthday cake.  

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Michael opened his blue eyes.  He locked eyes with [Your name] and his expression softened.  It was the look at [Your name] hated more than anything.

The look of pity when people realized why she was always hurt.  He had the same expression.  Michael walked over to her and turned the steaming water off.  He carefully hooked his arms underneath hers and got her to her feet.

“Did you already shower?” he asked.  

She shook her head.  “No.”

“Alright,” he looked down at her.  He avoided looking at her body.  He made sure to keep his eyes on hers.  “I’ll—I’ll be right in the other room if you need me, okay?”

When [Your name] nodded, Michael turned the water back on for her and left the bathroom.  It didn’t happen again, but Michael sat on the edge of his bed, listening for anything.

He was stiff, and he was barely breathing as he listened for the woman to hurt herself again.  When the water shut off, this time by [Your name]’s hand and not his own, he finally took in a much-deserved breath.  He closed his eyes, laying back on his bed.  He was so worried for the woman that he hadn’t even heard the front door shut.  When he heard Ms. Mead’s voice, he shot up from his bed and ran downstairs to help her.

He took each of the bags from the older woman.  

“Take these to the guest room, okay?  The one with the white bed.”

Michael nodded and rushed off, with five bags of things she would need on one arm and six on the other.

[Your name] came out of the bathroom with the clothes on that Michael had grabbed earlier, her free hand drying her hair the best she could.  

Michael sat everything on the bed and came back out of the room, seeing her.

His eyes widened.  “I can do that for you—”

“I… I got it,” [Your name] mumbled, her cheeks burning at the thought that he would look at her like he did before.  She looked over at him, and she nearly stopped drying her hair.  She couldn’t describe his expression—but it wasn’t like it was before.  

Michael crossed his arms over his chest.  “Your room.  It’s this one,” he pointed to the door behind him.  

“Thank you,” she said, walking towards it.  

Michael grabbed her by her elbow, looking right at her.  “Let me do your hair.”

Her eyes widened.  “What—”

“—let me do your hair.  I want to help you.”

Throughout all of her thoughts, one stuck out the most: why was the Antichrist being so kind to her?

Michael didn’t wait for her to answer, leading her back into the bedroom.  He began to search through the plastic bags, eventually finding the items Ms. Mead bought for her hair.  He forced [Your name] to sit down on the edge of the bed and Michael got behind her.  He finished towel drying her hair and then proceeded to use what Ms. Mead had bought, with the instructions that [Your name] was given him.  He had never even tried to fix anyone else’s hair before—he had only taken care of his own.  It gave him a sense of pride to know that [Your name] hadn’t denied his help, this time.

[]

Days turned into weeks.  Weeks turned into months.  

Eventually, Michael and [Your name] were quite close—much to Miriam’s excitement.

Although she never said anything, she quite liked the idea of them being so close.  It made her confident heart soar with happiness at the thought that the two people she cared for most in the world were just as close to each other as they were to her.  

Despite their closeness, however, Michael disappeared after being taken to jail.

He hadn’t been able to contact [Your name] until about a week after being gone.

“Hello?” [Your name] spoke into the telephone, confused.  She didn’t know the number that had called.  

“[Your name],” Michael said.  He closed his eyes, melting at the sound of her voice.  

“Michael?” [Your name] quickly sat up, alert.  “What the hell, Michael?  Where are you?  Are you okay? Wh—”

“—I’m alright,” he chuckled softly.  “Things have kind of… happened.  I’m at a school for Warlocks.  I’m ‘honing’ my magic.  That’s what they said, anyway,” he spoke, leaning against the wall behind him as he talked on the phone.  “[Your name], they want me to be the next Supreme.”

“I… would be super excited for you, if I would know what the fuck that is,” she scoffed.  “Michael, seriously.  What’s going on?”

Michael chuckled at her comment.  “I’m safe.  I promise you.  But this is how I do my job.  As the… well, you know.”  

“Yeah, yeah.  But what—”

“—listen, I have to go.  I have to get back to class.  But I’ll call you.  Please know that I’m safe.  It was so good to hear your voice, [Your name].  Make sure Ms. Mead knows that I’ll get in contact with both of you soon.”

Michael hung up the phone.

What [Your name] didn’t know was that Michael had already been in contact with Ms. Mead.  And the two were conspiring against the Warlocks to make it easier for Michael to reach the title of Supreme, and therefore, bring around the end of the world.

[]

Another week passed without a word from Michael.

[Your name] was more nervous than words could put together.  Although the two were just close friends, she quite missed his absence.  She was starting to believe she wanted to be much more than friends, but she would never say anything about it.  

[Your name] sat at the dining room table, wondering where the hell Ms. Mead was.

She had been gone since early morning.

She heard the front door shut and had come downstairs to see what was going on—Ms. Mead was nowhere in sight, and she hadn’t left any sort of note.  

It was nearing noon when the house phone began to ring.  

[Your name] sighed, figuring it was Miriam.  She got up and walked over to the phone, answering it.  

“Hello?”

“[Your name],” Michael’s voice came through the speaker.  “They’ve killed her.”

[Your name] paused for a moment.  She sucked in a breath through her teeth, sitting back down at the dining room table.  “What are you talking about?”

“The witches.  They killed her.  They killed Ms. Mead.”

Only now did [Your name] hear Michael’s sobs.  He must have moved the phone away from his head moments before, preventing her from hearing it.  

A feeling of dread pooled into her stomach.  The news seemed fake—unreal, to her in the sense that it couldn’t have happened.  It didn’t happen.  Miriam was fine.  She had to be.

Her breathing was uneasy as she quickly stood back up.  “Where are you?”

Michael told her his exact location—it wasn’t too hard to find, and she would be able to get there pretty quickly.  

[Your name] hung up the phone and grabbed some cash and car keys, before she ran outside.  She ran to the car that still sat in the driveway.  She should have known.  She should have checked.  Ms. Mead wouldn’t have just left for a walk.  She would have said something.  

[Your name] entered the location onto the GPS in the car.  She took off driving, tears blurring her vision, but she never once stopped.  When there wasn’t a cop or a car nearby, she ran through the red lights.  She sped until she got to the location.  

She quickly slammed on the breaks, putting the car in park.  She turned it off and quickly got out of the car, nearly tripping over herself as she planted her feet on the ground.

Michael quickly looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide when he saw her.

He forced himself off of the ground, rushing in her direction.  [Your name] met him halfway, her arms tightly wrapping around his body.  She let out a soft sob and Michael hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.          

“[Your name],” he said, tears forming in his own eyes.  

She shook her head, her fingers digging into the fabric of his black suit.

Michael’s fingers gently tangled in her hair as he pulled back to look down at her.  Red rimmed the edge of his eyes.

He had been crying, for some time now.  [Your name] looked up at him, trying to keep herself calm.  

“Michael,” she bit her lip, holding back a sob as she watched him.  “What happened… why did this happen?”

Michael shook his head.  He would have spoken, had it not been for the blonde witch who walked up to the two, a black umbrella hovering over her head.  

Cordelia’s eyes widened when she realized that Michael was not alone.  

Michael quickly pushed [Your name] behind him, glaring in Cordelia’s direction.

He didn’t give her a chance to speak, his hand reaching back and gripping onto [Your name]’s.  “I’ll kill you,” Michael seethed, his body shaking slightly out of rage.  “I’ll kill you and all your damn witches.  You stupid—”

[Your name] squeezed his hand.  He stopped talking, clenching his jaw.  

Cordelia looked from Michael to [Your name] before she gave a curt nod and left them standing there.  

Michael quickly turned to face [Your name].  “Never again.  I will never let you leave my sight,” he said.  “Ever.  I… You’re all I have,” he frowned, cupping her cheeks as he spoke.

[Your name] reached up, placing her hands over the top of his.  “You’re all I have, too, Michael,” she said, closing her eyes.  “I…  I’m so sorry.  I… I should have realized something was wrong earlier—”

“—you wouldn’t have known what they were planning to do.  I didn’t know, either,” he said, frowning deeply.  “But they will pay for this.  They all will.  Every last one of those damned witches.  You have my word.”

“I know I do,” [Your name] said, looking up at the man.  “Michael, can we—can we go home?” she asked, looking past him at the charred remains of the only good woman in her life.  “I… I think we should pack our things.  Leave.  It’s not safe here…”

“You’re right,” he frowned.  “But [Your name], it’s just going to get worse.  You�� you have to promise me you’ll be by my side.  Always.”

“Always,” she nodded.  

“Good,” Michael said, pulling her into another hug.  He rested his head on her chin.  He would protect her until the end of time.  The thought of letting her go now made his insides boil.  She would never leave his side—never.  The only way she’d leave him is through death, and even then, he would bring her back. No matter what.  

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 30

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L  Warnings: Language, angst, meeting new characters Important Question: do you guys prefer shorter or longer chapters? also, I listened to first love / late spring by Mitski for this ch if anyone else wants to listen along!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 30: Like a Tall Child

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Remus was alone for the trip back to King’s Cross; not wanting to be stuck with James or Peter who would only pester him. He mulled over his thoughts as his head rested against the window, watching the scenery whip by. But the more he had time to think, it caused more guilt to build; they were only trying to be supportive. They cared so much, still willing to associated with someone like… him. And all he did was push them away. He didn’t deserve real mates like them.

Remus tried to distract himself: knitting, drawing — reading next year’s material, but settled on pulling out his cartridge of cigarettes. About to light one, his attention was drawn to the soft knocking on the carriage door. Lily was there, waving before coming in.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door and sitting down. “I wanted to say bye for the summer.”

He exhaled, now itching for the rush of nicotine while Lily fidgeted in her seat. He already knew why she was there.

“Sev — Snape — came to me a couple days ago…”

It was impossible to escape, wasn’t it?

“They’re mad, his theories… He’s been telling me the entire year and kept going on about this one story… wild story of you and Y/N and the other Marauders…” Lily looked up nervously.

Instead of getting angry, Remus closed his eyes, feeling himself sink further into the cushions, centring his breathing. “What did he say?”

“He’s been telling me you’re a… a...”

“Werewolf?”

She froze at the word, having to take a deep inhale and suddenly looked paler than usual. Remus wanted to jump out of the moving train. “Yes,” she stated, “But I told him to bugger off.”

Lily stopped again, meeting his eyes. “So… It’s true?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

Lily sat straight, leaning over and even putting a hand on her chest, close to her heart. “I’ll take it to the grave.”

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(Letters between Y/N and friends)

To my lovely Whiskers, I hope your summer has been grand so far. Are you sure you can’t spend time with me? It’s been so lonely. Prongs

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Dear Bambi, Unfortunately, I can’t. Mom’s dragging me to New York for the month. Something about being invited to do a special surgery. Said leaving me alone will do no good. I promise to bring you back a souvenir? How are things with Black? Whiskers

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My adoring, wonderful Whiskers, And it hasn’t. My parents are concerned. They’ve been trying to get me to talk about what happened but I can’t. Dumbledore and McGonagall have already started their punishments. He lost over 200 points for next year, got detention for half the year and he can’t try out for the Quidditch team if he wanted to. I wonder what they’ll do next. I love souvenirs! All things Muggle! Yours truly, Prongs/Bambi/James

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July 20th, 1976 Meet me in Times Square at 1 pm on the 8th. There’s a bench outside a bagel store, there’s no way you’ll miss it. Until next time, Matthew G.

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¡Hola! Greetings from Barcelona! My brothers took a few weeks off to spend time with me to come to Spain with my parents! They’re dragging me to a football game later. I heard they call it ‘soccer’ in North America. M. McKinnon

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Y/N L/N, Hello, I hope you’re having a wonderful break. Your letters are the highlight of my day and they keep me busy. So I hate to inform you that you need to stop sending me letters for now. I’m not supposed to be getting any and my parents are going to start confiscating them if I receive any more. I’m sorry. I can’t wait to see you in the fall. R.A.B

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I’m visiting Tuney with my parents in a few days. She moved to London for a clerical job in March and we’re meeting her boyfriend, Vernon! He sounds nice but she’s told me she’s nervous about me and magic around him. Lily

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Petals! I’m sure you’ll be fine! Who couldn't love you? Write back and tell me what happens!

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Whiskers, I’m with my parents up in Wales in their cottage. I was born there before having to move for my Dad’s work. Also, I think I have to get a rabbit. James always told people that I got my scars from a poorly behaved rabbit and if I’m not seen with one soon, people will start to question. Remus

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Does this mean I get to call you Moony now? Professor Moony? Wales? And that’s where that small accent comes from. It bleeds through when you’re concentrating or relaxing. And a rabbit? At least they’re cute! I’m sure you can just Transfigure a book though. Y/N

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Professor Moony? Haha, okay! And really? I never knew. I’m kind of embarrassed now. I’ve thought about that but at this point, I think it would be easier just to have one.

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Oh no! It’s nice! Gives you personality. I think it suits you well How about… Moody Moony near full moons? And Moody Moony Mondays on Mondays.

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Now you’ve gone too far. Bloody fucking Moody Moony? Have you ever heard of Mad-Eye Moody?

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Would you prefer 'my Moony' then?

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Yes, actually.

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August 6th, 1976

“Hurry up!”

She thudded down from the top of the staircase, dragging her trunk behind while her mother sped out of the terminal door, flagging down one of the zipping yellow taxis with her luggage in hand.

It was strange, being with her mother again after almost a year apart. She hadn’t come to King’s Cross again, instead sending her a bus fare in anticipation of school ending. She hoped for some sort of recognition, any kind of sign that she was missed but was only given a side-armed hug and delved back into work.

Y/N wondered if maybe she just didn’t want her there, hoping she would get lost and never come back. She only had been on a bus in London twice, therefore almost ensuring that she would get lost and would have stayed lost if she didn’t have extra spare change to use a payphone.

Ignoring the crackle of whispers as she strode to the cab, people blatantly stared at her unnatural coloured hair, as she entered the car, slamming the door shut.

“Where ya ladies off too?” Said the driver, pulling out a map from their car door.

“Cranberry Street, Brooklyn Heights.”

It was a quiet drive, aside from the driver drumming their fingers on the steering wheel at the sound of the Bee Gees blasting in the background. She watched other cabs whipping back and forth, people going on with their days, the dirty streets and building under construction.

“Hey, mom?” She asked, reasoning now was a good time to talk about her OWL results. She’d gotten them mere seconds before leaving their house back in London and she’d been putting off looking at the results until now.

She only grunted, flicking through one of her medical journals, jotting down notes. “I don’t have time right now.”

Y/N sighed, that familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach expanded again. “It’s kind of important.”

“Not now.” She waved her hand and ended the conversation.

Thirty minutes later, the cab came to a stop as they grabbed their luggage and strolled up to the brownstone building they were renting for the month.

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Jet lag got to her as she unwinded lounged until finally getting up from bed that morning as her mom rushed around the house. She frantically was putting on shoes, dressed impeccably sharp, no doubt in hopes to make an impression as her eyes flew across her journal. Her feet were scrambling to the door as she flung her bag over her shoulder.

“Have a good d —” And then the door slammed shut.

She stared blankly at the door for a while and then turned around, getting ready for her day. A daint drum of excitement yet nervousness built up, pushing aside that sinking feeling. Today she was going to see Matthew again.

Having a few hours to spare, Y/N walked around, marvelling at the tall buildings and lights before heading into the heart of Time Square, immediately spotting the bench outside the bagel shop. She sat, waiting for him anxiously. She made sure to wear a hat, covering any sight of hair to avoid weird stares and chatter.

But then a few minutes turned into ten and then twenty minutes later.

Slipping out the letter again to make sure, she re-read it. Time Square, at one, today… near the bagel shop…

“Where y’at?”

Her head lifted as she jumped to her feet and pulled each other into a tight hug.

“Matthew!”

His face nuzzled into the side of her neck, arms wrapped around tight as her face pressed gently into his chest. Eventually, she pulled away - arms outstretched to get a good look.

Matthew Gaplin looked different. His hair, coarse and thick, had grown. He was taller, filled out more, tan skin became even tanner from the beating sun and he filled out.

His smile was large. “S’been so long.”

She gave him a small whack!

“Ow!” He jumped back, “What’s wrong wiv ya?”

“I thought you stood me up.”

“Sorry, doing something for Mom. Had to wait on line forever.”

He looked down bashfully, now staring at the hat. His face made a disgusted look. “It’s disgusting out. Why are you wearing —” Curiously lifting the hat, his lids widened astronomically as Y/N grabbed it, covering her wild hair.

“I told you,” she hissed.

“Right the Potter sport!” He gave a full-body laugh. “Oh come on, I wanna see it again!”

But her hand clamped down on that hat to prevent him from pulling it off. “No! The Muggles keep judging —“

“Muggles?” Matthew’s brows furrowed. “The fuck is a Muggle? Sounds… demeaning.”

“Sorry, it’s what they call No-Majs.”

“Ahh,” and then he moved to loop an arm around her shoulders and continued to walk. “Too good to use ol’American terms?”

“Turned British snob.”

They laughed loudly as he took charge, showing her around the city. There was something so calming amid the chaos of New York. The bustle, low chatter and his enthusiasm made it all the better.

Soon enough, after hours of walking around, they both came to a stop in a large park as they grew hungry. Matthew disappeared for a while, leaving her alone to lay down on the soft grass before returning, holding up a brown bag with two drinks.

“Got us bagels wiv schmear.”

She mumbled out a thanks and took it from him as he sat down on the grass beside her.

“Missed ya, really.”

She shoved him playfully, his head dropping bashfully. “Shut up.”

It stayed quiet for a bit, as they listened to the birds chirping until he broke the silence again. “Ya thinkin’ ‘bout moving back eventually, right?”

“Why?”

Matthew gave her a haughty look, contemplating his words carefully. “Do ya… not know? They’re losing the war.”

Momentary terror gripped her heart but she swallowed it down fast. “Matthew,” her voice dropped, “Please, I want a fun summer… can we not talk about the war? I have more than enough time to worry later."

He wanted to keep talking, worried for his good friend but he refrained, biting down on his lip and nodded stiffly.

“So…” he thought to himself, contemplating how to change the direction of their conversation and fast. “Fess up, what’s been goin’ on over there.”

“Huh?”

“You’re telling me you haven't — what is it called? Kissing?”

“Snogging?”

He smiled. “You’re telling me you haven’t snogged anyone of those rich Old-Majs yet?”

“Nope!” She spoke too quickly and voice was a little too high.

“Liar. Ya going tell me who then?” Y/N looked down, hand going to fiddle with the fem of her clothes while Matthew shook her. “Come on! Tell me!”

“Fine! His name is Sirius Black.”

Matthew's eyes widened in recognition as he sat upright. “You don’t mean the Black family? Gawd! No way!”

“What?”

“And ya don’t even know!” Matthew was full of amusement. “They’re one of the oldest wizarding families out there! Are you still wiv him?”

Y/N stopped, trying to conceal a chuckle. She didn’t have it in her to lie anymore. “No! He almost got me killed.”

“Ha. Ha, very clever. Fine, don’t tell me.”

“You? Anything exciting?”

Matthew snorted. “Fought over a fin if that counts as exciting.”

“You know that’s not what I'm talking about,” she teased.

He abruptly became very serious and it had Y/N sitting up straighter. Matthew breathed in, this time not looking at her but instead at his metal pop can. “I’ve… had a tumble wiv a few... didn’t matter their… genders.”

It took a second for his words to click in but when it did, her mouth fell open and saw his face fall as she pulled him into a tight hug. “I don’t care who you cop, just be safe and have fun.”

He mumbled into her shoulder. “Been rehearsing that since I knew you were visitin’.”

“Love ya, could never judge you.” He tried to look insulted from the babying but prickled with tears before wiping them away quickly.

“Bless ya!”

“You alright though?”

“Now that I know your reaction, never betta. Now, you talk, enough ‘bout me.”

After making sure he was okay, Y/N prattled about Hogwarts. Matthew would pop in a few times, asking her to clarify or ask what words the British used — he often called her his ‘British insight.’ She rambled much about her day, her new friends but made sure to leave out a few details. Matthew became peculiarly silent through most of her speech. It wasn’t like him to not try to speak up, but he looked at her with something she’d only seen a few times prior.

Matthew stared at her for a long time, analyzing with underlying adoration. “What did them Brits do to ya?”

She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Ya sound different.” He says calmly, going to sip on his pop. “Talk funny.”

“Tawk funny,” she mocked and earned a shove. “Different? How so?”

“Everything ‘bout you seems different. Y’look happier,” he smiles, although there was a twinge of hurt. “Talk softer, look different — move differently and ya voice sounds different… but the same.”

She takes a bit of her food. “I hope that isn’t a bad thing.”

Matthew smiles gently, sheepish but there. “Not at all.”

She smiled back. Matthew always knew how to make her smile and it felt good, normal.

“Happy looks good on ya.”

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She finally sat down, tired from the long day she spent wandering the city. But it wasn’t long until a tapping sound came from the window. Celeste was there, waiting with a letter in her beak. She walked up to her, letting her fly inside and opened the letter.

Got my OWL results. Outstanding in Astronomy, DADA, Charms, Transfigs. Exceeds Expectations in everything else but an Acceptable in Potions. Moony

She re-read that last part. Remus getting Acceptable in Potions? Her attention travelled to the stark white envelope peeking out from the side pocket of her carry-on. She marched up to it, ripping it open and scanned the paper.

Outstanding in Transfiguration, Potions and Herbology, Arithmancy. Exceeds Expectations in everything else except Poor in History of Magic. She cringed at that.

She immediately got up from her seat. Rushing over to the master bedroom, peeking her head in. “Mom?” She said quietly, “Can I talk to you.”

“Didn’t I tell you I was busy?” Her voice cut through. “It’s not the time to be a nuisance.”

A scorching feeling of anger thrummed through her but kept her voice low and steady. “That was a few days ago.”

"My answer didn't change."

Any semblance of calm vanished. “It’s about my OWLs. My future. I need some sort of guidance.”

“I wouldn’t understand them,” she sighed and peered up. There was an odd expression, borderlining on confusion and something else. “It’s not the same. I’m not a… witch like you are. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I’ll make it into No-Maj terms?” Y/N’s voice was tight and came rushing over to where she sat on the couch. And laid out her examination results. “Look, an O is the same as getting an A! It’s the highest grade you can get. And here,” she pointed, “My teacher, Professor Slughorn, invites me to parties because of my work in Potions class. I’m one of his top students.”

She glanced at her mom excitedly but was met with a look of annoyance and slight judgement. But she continued, “A-and in Herbology I'm doing excellent too! I was becoming interested in becoming a Healer. I told you in my letters. It’s similar to being —”

“I’m sorry,” her mother said but it didn’t have any trace of guilt or sorrow, “I’m busy and you’re getting in the way of work — my achievements — that you know are important.”

“Are mine not important?”

A thick, profound silence filled the space between them. Everything about the connotation had her averting her body, feeling the sinking in her chest explode. From the war, traumatic near death experience and her mother's constant aloof nature, it was her cracking point.

Snatching the OWLs results, she walked out the door, shutting it gently before diving into her room; throwing the covers over her head.

All the New-Maj and No-Maj children were told stories of the Boogeyman. To Y/N, it felt comparable to reverting to a small child as she tucked herself into a tight ball. She recalled watching all the other children running up their parents, being roped with large hugs and smiles, surrounded with infinite quantities of love as they left the school playground. She remembered being envious, wanting to have two parents as the images of the Boogeyman drew near.

There was an overwhelming sense to scream — to cry out for guidance as the knot in her stomach grew. Instead of her mother coming to her rescue — to reassure, to give any sense of security or safety while other parents would scare off the Boogeyman or monsters ready to nip at their children’s toes under the bed, Y/N was left in the dark as all sense of relief or love vanished. It left her vulnerable, exposed to the monsters lurking in the dark.

Her mother may have not been physically absent but it sure felt like it.

━━━━━━━━━༻✩༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Slang dictionary:

Fin = $5 / five dollar bill Bagels with schmear = bagels with cream cheese Wait on line = the same as 'Wait in line' Pop = Canadian slang for soda / soft drinks Sport / old sport = (depending on the context) a term of endearment similar to buddy, pal, friend

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[qitwrites]

growing pains 

Fandom: Boku no hero academia 

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

OR

5 times the Bakusquad tells Bakugou they love him + the one time he says it back

(AO3)

Ashido is many things. Book smart isn’t one of them.

No really, she’s got so much going for her with her dancing, her strength, her versatile quirk, her perky attitude and even her distinctive appearance, but she’s not one for the books. She doesn’t like them, and they clearly don’t like her back.

Her grades thoroughly reflect this hate-hate relationship.

Ashido tries though, she really does- even if it’s just cramming a few days before the exams, she tries to study. Yao-momo had even gone out of her way to help, but it just doesn’t do the trick. She knows she needs to get her act together and figure this out because she can’t be a hero with a failing grade, and the anxiety and fear starts taking its toll, leaving her restless and upset.

So, when Bakugou sees the pink-haired, pink-skinned pain-in-the ass sulking in the common room, he’s horrified by the words that leave his mouth-

‘Want my help?’

Ashido doesn’t even glance at him at first, choosing to stare at the wall forlornly. She slowly looks up to catch his eye, looks around, realizes that they’re all alone, snaps her eyes back to his and her jaw drops.

‘Me?’ She points a finger at herself. ‘You’ll tutor me?’

‘What did I just say dumbass?’

‘I just- BAKUBRO, THANK YOU!’

‘Shut the fuck up and get your shit. We’ve got our work cut out for us. And raccoon eyes?’

Ashido turns to look at him, eyes bright and shiny.

‘Tell anyone about this and I’ll kick your ass.’

Ashido beams. ‘It’ll be our little secret!’

To her credit, he sees her try. She’s distracted and constantly jumping up and down, too jittery to be in one place, but she also pushes herself to focus, to really absorb the material. Bakugou’s rough with her, the way he is with Kirishima, but he’s generous with the praise too, or as generous as he’s capable of being. It makes him feel all kinds of gross, disgustingly soft and gooey things when Ashido’s eyes go warm with pride when he pays her the smallest compliment.

They work hard for the two weeks leading up to the exams. Kirishima joins them for every session in addition to the stuff he does with Bakugou separately, and between the three of them, they manage to cover most of the syllabus quite thoroughly.

The day before the exam, Bakugou sees the nerves rolling off Ashido.

‘Oye!’

She flinches and turns to look at him, throwing him a sheepish smile. ‘Yes, Blasty?’

He bristles at the nickname but recognizes that there’s no malice, no intention to mock, nothing really- just a nickname meant for a friend. She isn’t provoking him- she’s just nervous and falling back on old, comfortable habits.

He grunts, ‘You nervous?’

Ashido chuckles. ‘Course I am! Don’t wanna let you down, you know?’

Bakugou smacks her lightly on the head with a roll of practice sheets.

‘Who do you think tutored you? Don’t underestimate our sessions. Get in there and fucking obliterate those stupid tests.’

Ashido’s smile grows more confident, and she gives him a huge thumbs up, bumps hips with Kirishima and jogs over to her seat. The bell rings, and the exams begin.

The tests are not bad. Bakugou notes that a good majority of the papers contain material that he’s covered with the two properly, and works his way through the problems, the equations, the literature, all of it. In the very back of his mind, in a place he barely refuses to acknowledge, he hopes that they’re doing ok.

A week after their final exams, Bakugou is walking back from the training centre when he sees a ball of pink approaching him at an alarming speed.

‘BAKUBRO!’ Mina hollers, arms raised over her head as she outright sprints at him.

Bakugou furrows his brow, chest expanding as he gets ready to yell at her when she interrupts him-

‘I passed EVERYTHING!’ Her smile is humungous, wide and warm and genuine to its core. ‘AND I ACTUALLY DID WELL!’

Bakugou doesn’t even realize he’s smiling back, that feral, triumphant grin he has when he beats someone during training or takes down a villain. He’s proud of himself, and he realizes, with a surprising amount of acceptance, that he’s proud of her too. Really damn proud.

He’s a bit slow to realize that she hasn’t stopped barreling towards him though.

‘RACCOON EYES, DON’T YOU DA-‘

Ashido collides right into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Bakugou curses the entire way, but Ashido out-laughs him, her body shaking with joy.

‘Thank you!’ She beams down at him, pulling him into a warm hug. ‘You have no idea what this means to me.’

Bakugou wants to push her off, wants to stand up, spew out some curses and stomp away, back to his room.

But he’s also proud. He’s also happy for her. He’s also glad she did ok. That she worked hard and was determined to make him proud and that she isn’t going to get held back or expelled or something.

So, he blames it on the summer heat when he not only doesn’t push her off but rests a hand on her shoulder, gives her a quick pat, counts to 10 and THEN shoves her away.

Ashido pulls off easily enough, still laughing. She bounces back to her feet, dusts off her track pants and offers him her hand. The blonde looks at it, huffs, and takes it with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

Ashido yanks him to his feet with a strong, firm grip and her eyes go soft and warm and radiant.

‘Thanks again, Bakugou.’

‘Tch, whatever. Fuck off.’

Ashido giggles. Her phone suddenly starts ringing and she pulls it out of her pant pocket.

‘Oh, it’s my parents, I gotta take this!’ She starts walking back to the dorms. ‘Let’s go out this weekend, get some food at the mall. My treat!’

‘I don’t want to fucking do-‘

‘Bye babe. Love you!’ And with that, she’s gone, her laugh echoing around the courtyard.

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

---

Bakugou knows for a fact that Sero is 90% memes and 10% tape.

He has no scientific evidence to back up this claim of course, but he’s definitely right.  

The thing about Sero is that the longer you spend time around him, the more you can appreciate his stupid sense of humour, his great taste in mangas, and his ability to make the people around him smile.

Bakugou hates him completely, or so he tells himself. There’s no scientific evidence to prove on the contrary either, thank god.

So, with his shitty sense of humour and his easy-going nature, it’s natural to find Sero with a smile on his face. Not the kind of sunshine happiness that Kirishima has, but more of a mellow, easy joy. His body language exudes a relaxed vibe, immediately making the people around him lower their guard, and he shares a love for healthy food with Bakugou, earning him the blonde’s begrudging respect.

Bakugou finds the tape hero sitting at the kitchen island on a Tuesday night. It’s past Bakguou’s bedtime, but he’s hungry enough to warrant a midnight snack, though he’s not expecting any company. Turns out, neither is Sero.

‘Oh, hey.’

Immediately, Bakugou’s shackles are up. Because Sero isn’t smiling. He isn’t teasing him, there’s no humorous lilt in his voice, no mischievous glint in his eyes, nothing. He’s hollow almost, his skin pale and his eyes sunken in. Even his breathing seems off, too fast and too shallow all at once.

‘What are you doing up?’ Bakugou asks, quirking a brow.

‘Could ask you the same.’

Sero is barely looking at him. He has his phone in a vice-grip, and he looks like he’s going to throw up.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

Sero jolts at that, eyes darting all across the room, and he can’t seem to look at Bakugou. Can’t seem to sit still or calm down. Bakugou can taste his anxiety, and it’s making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He feels protectiveness - strong and vicious and ridiculously overpowering - all the way in his toes.

‘Nothing, ha, I’m fine.’

‘Tapeface, I’m not fucking blind. If you don’t want to fucking talk about it, fine. Just don’t lie to my face.’

Sero finally looks at him, and he looks lost and scared and helpless. Bakugou’s never seen him like this, and the protectiveness surges.

‘I- I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. I’m not sure, you know, how to talk about it. I don’t even know what to do.’

Bakugou grunts to show him he’s listening before turning around and slowly pulling things out of the fridge. He remembers Sero’s love for fruits and soy and all things healthy and decides to make some Mapo Tofu. Not because Sero will like it or anything, the blonde just really likes Mapo Tofu, ok?

Bakugou begins the task of pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets and gets to prepping the ingredients. He keeps himself busy and fills the space with the comforting sounds and smells of food because he is an expert at being unable to talk about his feelings. To articulate his thoughts sans anger and rage and panic. And he finds that it's easier, even if only a little, to talk when the focus isn’t just on you. When there’s stuff going on, when there are other focal points. It’s less scary.

‘My mom is getting surgery.’

Bakugou pauses in his movements. He stays still long enough to indicate to Sero that he’s listening but goes back to work so the focus is still on the food, so Sero will continue to speak. His voice is uncharacteristically soft and so pained, and something in Bakugou churns horribly. He works more softly, so he can hear everything.

‘She’s had medical issues all my life, so it’s nothing unexpected. She gets surgery pretty often, but it’s never any less scary.’

Bakugou can’t even imagine what that’s like, to have a parent regularly undergo medical treatment and surgical procedures.

‘It’s the first one since I got to the dorms. I’ve never been this far away, and I can’t-‘ Sero’s voice chokes. He breathes deeply and continues ‘-I can’t calm down. I begged them to let me come home but they refused, said I need to see this UA thing through, do my own thing, all that.’

Bakugou continues to cook. The kitchen smells warm and spicy, and the sound of sizzling spices saturates the space between them, and he thinks he can sense Sero calm down a little.

‘I get it. I do. They're right and logically, I can accept that. I just. Fuck, this is horrible.’

Bakugou doesn’t offer any words of comfort or advice because what does he know? He has no idea what Sero is going through, and anything he says might sound insincere or plain insensitive. So instead, he cooks. He cooks the meat, mixes in the spices, and tastes the broth. He works fast and efficient, his movements practised. When it’s done, he plates up two bowls, and sets one in front of Sero, taking the seat next to him. Sero’s at the head of the table, so Bakugou ends up on his right.

Sero stares at the bowl and then looks up at Bakugou.

‘Mom makes me Mapo Tofu when I’m upset,’ he grumbles by way of an explanation. The blonde proceeds to douse his serving in extra chilli oil and peppercorns because he made the overall dish at a much more tolerable spice level. NOT for Sero or anything, just because. You know. For the fuck of it.

Sero stares at the bowl of food silently before picking up the spoon.

‘I haven’t told the rest because I couldn’t find a way to talk about it.’

Before Bakugou can figure out a way to respond to that, Sero continues, ‘I’m glad you know, is not so bad to have someone to talk to. Or at, I guess.’

Sero digs in, and after the first bite, his eyes light up.

‘Holy fuck,’ he breathes, ‘this is so good.’

Bakugou smirks, digging into his own bowl and humming in agreement. It’s probably the best Tofu he’s made so far.

‘Shit man,’ Sero says in between big bites, ‘I freaking love this. And you. But mostly this. But also, you. Like 65-35? Maybe 60-40.’

The blonde snorts and Sero’s grin gets wider. They eat in relative silence, with the occasional comment from Sero and the sounds of them kicking each other playfully under the table. When they’re done, Bakugou rinses the bowls in the sink and joins Sero on the couch in front of the TV. It’s gotten ridiculously late, but he doesn’t want to leave him alone.

Sero rubs the back of his neck. ‘I uh, I don’t want to go to my room right now.’

Bakugou leans over the couch, grabs two throw blankets from a bin nearby and flings the yellow one at Sero.

‘Play that cool documentary on speedcubing,’ he barks out, tucking himself under his own red blanket. Sero gives him a wide-eyed look before navigating to the right piece on Netflix. He gets comfortable under the throw, and they fall asleep to the sound of people solving Rubix cubes at inhumane speeds.

Shoji finds them like that in the morning and gently shakes them awake. Sero’s phone has a message from his parents, telling him everything’s alright, and that’s the only reason Bakugou forgives him for gathering the blonde in a big, warm hug before the sun is even up.

He crawls into his own bed 5 minutes later, and his heart feels lighter than ever.

Maybe an antacid will help with all of these stupid, horrid feels.

---

Bakugou doesn’t like people.

As a general rule of thumb, he dislikes them almost instantly. People are loud. They’re invasive, annoying, clingy, and they never smell good.

People are also cruel and selfish and use you as they please.

Bakugou doesn’t like people; until he comes to UA.

Because the people in UA are loud, invasive, annoying, clingy, and never smell great either.

But they’re kind. They’re smart, driven, capable, funny. They work hard, they play hard, and they’re mostly selfless. They don’t flock to him simply because he’s got a great quirk or something. Truth be told, they’re all pretty formidable themselves. Grossly underdeveloped and years away from being at his level, but Bakugou knows that with time, all of his classmates will reach insane heights. They wouldn’t be in UA otherwise.

So Bakugou tries. Mostly because his stupid squad won’t leave him alone, but he tries.

When people hang out in the common rooms, he’s downstairs with them. If there’s a stupid Christmas party, or it's someone’s birthday, or the class wants to go out shopping or to play in the pool, Bakugou tags along with them more often than not.

There is a compromise though. With a social battery as small and easily drained as his, it isn’t uncommon for the class to find Bakugou chilling in a corner with his headphones in, simply taking in the vibe rather than actively participating. There’s no bad blood over this though- they kinda get it. Not everyone is as friendly or as vibrant as Kirishima or Kaminari. They’re honestly just glad he’s there at all, so they do their best to make sure he’s included while letting him set his own pace.

Bakugou’s in one of his recharging phases when he spots Jirou.

The earphone jack hero is wandering around, looking a little worse for wear. There are people from both 1A and 1B milling around, talking and laughing in the common areas, and the energy in the room is almost stifling. The blonde doesn’t miss the way Jirou covers her ears at one point.

From what he can tell, Jirou is an ambivert. She enjoys the company of others often, but she’s also perfectly fine being on her own, with a book and some music to keep her company. Right now, she seems exhausted, her own social battery running dangerously low.

Bakugou catches her eye. She gives him a small wave and he sticks his tongue out at her, pulling the skin under his eye down on one side. It’s petty and dumb, but he sees her huff a laugh and slowly meander towards him. Bakugou goes back to closing his eyes and tipping his head back, enjoying the familiar texture of the common room couch and the sound of the music in his ears drowning out everything else.

He feels the couch dip next to him, close but not too close. Jirou doesn’t touch him, doesn’t bother him, doesn’t shake or poke or otherwise engage him. She just sits there, stock-still.

When his eyes slip open again, Bakugou sees that she’s got her hands in her lap and she’s mimicking his posture, comfortably seated on the couch with her head tipped back. Her signature headphones are nowhere in sight though, and her eyes are open and red.

Distantly, Bakugou wonders if she’s forgotten them. That would suck ass- he’d be lost without his own pair. And Jirou’s relationship with music is on a level no one else can fathom- it’s literally part of her DNA, her quirk, her identity.

Bakugou isn’t sure what compels him to do it- maybe it’s because they both like bugging the hell out of Kaminari. Maybe it’s because Jirou is no-nonsense when it comes to hero work, which he can respect. Maybe it’s because, beneath all the teasing and smart-ass comments, Jirou has often looked out for him, advocating for the need for personal space when the idiot brigade drains him.

Whatever the reason, Bakugou finds himself pulling out his right earbud and holding it out for her, a silent invitation.

It takes maybe 4 seconds for him to feel the bud lifted gently from his fingers. Jirou is careful to not jar his own earbud when she adjusts his in her right ear, and Bakugou moves to raise the volume a little.

It is a bit annoying, yes, to have one ear open to the noise around them, but it’s not unbearable- far from it. He’s got some reggae on right now, a genre he indulges in when he needs to calm down and just relax his body.

When he turns to look at her, Jirou’s got a smile on her lips. Her feet are tapping to the beat effortlessly, and her fingers are mapping out the tune on an invisible fretboard. She opens her eyes and looks over at Bakugou, and her smile widens, crinkling the edges of her eyes.

Thank you, she mouths, flashing him another blinding smile. It makes Bakugou huff.

‘Whatever,’ he murmurs under his breath. The look in her eyes could not be mistaken for anything else- unadulterated gratitude and a heavy dose of love.

These gooey feelings are going to give him an upset stomach, Bakugou’s calling it right now.

---

Bakugou doesn’t even notice the pattern till Kirishima points it out to him.

It goes a little something like this- Bakugou feels off during training, or maybe doesn’t do as well as he’d expected on a test or project, or something just doesn’t go right. So naturally, he’s in a piss poor mood.

The squad’s antics don’t do much for him then, doesn’t really raise his spirits or anything, and he usually goes back to his room, slamming his door shut and pacing around like a caged tiger.

And that’s when his phone rings. The caller ID reads Pikachu.

‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Bakubrooooooooo,’ Kaminari croons, and Bakugou wants to break something.

‘Fuck of-‘

‘You ever wonder if cereal is soup?’

All the fight drains out of Bakugou, leaving only confusion in its place. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, I mean, is cereal like a sub-category of soup or something? Wouldn’t that make sense?’

‘Dunce-face, what the fuck? That doesn’t even make sense? You don’t cook cereal?’

‘Yes, but you could eat it with a soup spoon. That should count for something.’

‘I hate you. So much.’

‘Aww, love you too bro. Ok, gotta go, byee~’

Bakugou stares at his phone, shocked and confused and annoyed.

But no longer angry. No longer pacing about, no longer in a foul mood.

Another time, after a particularly bad bout of training, ending with aching forearms and snarls of frustration because he needs to get better but it’s not happening fast enough, Bakugou wants nothing more than to scream into a pillow and maybe eat some hot sauce.

Again, he gets a call from Kaminari.

‘Wha-‘

‘Do you ever just think about pizza and cry?’

‘Huh?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I think humanity reached its peak when it invented pizza, you know? And that makes me cry. Such perfection.’ He can picture Kaminari making a chef’s kiss gesture, and it pisses him off.

‘This is why you called me? Are you fucking with me?’

‘It’s really an honest question Bakubro. Don’t you ever tremble at the sheer magnificence of pizza?’

‘Delete my number.’

‘No can do. Gotta go, love you, bye!’

And again, he’s gone, just as quickly as he arrived. And again, Bakugou is left feeling baffled and miffed but no longer angry, no longer itching to scream and claw and break something.

He still eats some hot sauce though.

Kirishima is with him after one of his bad days, sitting on his bed and trying to pacify him.

‘It’s ok, it-‘

‘Shut up, Shitty hair! Fuck-‘ His hands tremble with the need to just do something, vent somehow, to break the tension in his spine. He doesn’t want to snap at Kirishima, which is why he never lets him tag along when he stomps away to his room after a bad day, but the redhead can be ridiculously caring sometimes and Bakugou doesn’t want to hurt him.

He doesn’t know what else to do though.

‘Shit, I- you need to leave, get out before I-‘

His phone rings. Pikachu, it says.

‘Dunce-‘

‘I’ve decided that, in the event of an apocalypse, you and I are teaming up together.’

‘Wha-‘

‘I know you’d much rather team up with Kirishima, cause he’s so strong and handsome and he’s your best friend, but he’ll be fine. I, on the other hand, will die immediately. So, it’s just you and me Blasty.’

‘Fuck right off, why would I-‘

‘We could name ourselves the atomic blondes.’ Kaminari suddenly makes a whooping noise. ‘Damn, that’s perfect Bakugou! I gotta print tee shirts right now, we’d look amazing.’

‘I am not wearing anything that matches you, miss me with that shit.’

‘I promise it’ll be black, and like, soft, with skull patterns or something.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I gotta go anyway, but you’re stuck with me Bakubro. Anyway, bye, love you!’

They end the call, or rather, Kaminari cuts it before Bakugou can get an insult or two in there, and when he looks back at Kirishima, he sees a big, goofy smile on his face.

‘What?’ he grumbles, tossing his phone on his bed.

‘He does that often?’

‘What, call me and say really random, really stupid shit? Yeah, all the damn time. I need to block his ass.’

‘Kinda sweet though, huh?’

Bakugou cocks his head. ‘What’re you talking about? It’s a fucking pain.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t seem as mad anymore.’

‘I-‘ And yet again, Bakugou is disgruntled and confused and irritated at himself, for getting swept up by Kaminari’s pace, but he’s not angry. All the fight has mostly bled out of his limbs, and he feels more or less normal if only a little on edge. Nothing too difficult to deal with.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Bakugou breathes. Kirishima’s smile is a tad wider, and he scoots over on the bed, making some space for Bakugou while he pulls out his laptop, ready to load up some shitty videos.

‘Tell him about this and I will never speak to you again,’ Bakugou grumbles finally, settling in next to Kirishima, leaning most of his weight into the redhead.

He feels Kirishima’s chest rumble with laughter.

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Bakugou wonders if anyone’s ever tried to harness the power of feels to run turbines or some shit, because this stuff’s turning out to be overwhelmingly powerful.

---

In terms of quirk compatibility, Bakugou has found his perfect match in Kirishima.

The blonde’s quirk is perfect for offence. Granted, it’s exceptionally versatile and he can handle his own just fine, but with Kirishima, he feels invincible.

Red Riot is unmoving, unabashed, and utterly unbreakable. He knows Bakugou inside out, knows his moves, his tactics, his signals. They fight like a well-oiled machine, adjusting and improvising with ease. Fighting alongside Kirishima, alongside Red Riot, is like breathing. They almost dance around each other, and between taking down villains and conducting search and rescue, they’ve made themselves a formidable hero pair even before graduation.

So, it’s not uncommon for them to be paired up even when they’re working and interning under different heroes. They’re that good.

They’re on a mission together when things take a turn for the absolute worst.

Most of the pros are down, caught in the crossfire or too busy protecting the civilians to engage in combat. There are fires blazing everywhere, smoke congesting the air around them so much that Bakugou can barely breathe.

Riot stands next to him, breathing slightly laboured but otherwise unhurt. Bakugou has a cut on his forehead, blood running down his face, but he feels ok. Good enough to rush into battle and do his part in subduing these shitty villains.

But experience has taught him better than to run in with no plan, even when he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to rush into the action. Experience has taught him that without a moment to catch his breath and restructure the plan to achieve their goals, he’ll be doing a lot more harm than good. It’s frustrating as all hell, but he’s a hero in training. You learn this stuff on the job.

‘What do you think?’ He asks the redhead.

Kirishima straightens out his back, hands on his hips. ‘The elemental quirk user will probably be the biggest pain in the ass.’

Bakugou nods. ‘It seemed like a water quirk. We need to get her away from the buildings, away from the piping. There was also that shitty smoke user, he’s the reason the air is barely breathable.’

‘Yao-momo’s masks would’ve come so in handy right now,’ Kirishima muses with a smile.

Bakugou grunts in begrudging agreement but doesn’t comment further on it. ‘There should be three other villains, all with high-level quirks. I’m not sure which other pros will free up to help, but we have to isolate them, move them towards the construction site,’ Bakugou points somewhat East of their current location, ‘as per the plan.’

Kirishima nods in agreement and catches Bakugou’s eyes and the blonde’s breath hitches.

They don’t talk about it, but here’s the other thing- they’re probably going to get hurt, maybe even fatally. Not because they’re weak or they want to or anything, but the villains seem endless. They’re fucking strong too, and even with an army of heroes, the villains seem to come at them harder and faster the longer this battle goes on. Bakugou can feel his own stamina start to vain, and he knows Kirishima will hit his limit too, slower than the blonde but still. There will come a point when Kirishima’s skin won’t harden and Bakugou’s blasts will lower in intensity till all he can manage are sparks.

And even then, he knows they will fight with their fists and their bodies and their teeth. That’s what heroes do- they put everything on the line, for the people and for justice.

More often than not, they lose their lives for it.

Well, for what’s it worth, Bakugou could not have asked for a better partner by his side in such shitty, dire times. Kirishima’s soft smile seems to reflect his sentiments.

‘Hey, Katsuki?’

The hero code of conduct frowns upon the use of personal names in costume. You have a hero name for a reason, and it helps preserve your sense of anonymity and privacy, even if it’s pretty useless at its job.

For Kirishima to name him, and first name him at that, just goes to show how serious the situation is.

‘Yeah, Ei?’

‘Make me some hotpot when we get back, ok?’

Bakugou inhales deeply, coughs because of the stupid smoke, and his fists clench tight enough to leave crescent moons in his palms.

‘Only if I’m in the mood, Shitty Hair,’ Bakugou retorts, his voice far too soft for the King Explosion Murder hero. But that’s ok- here is only Eijirou, Katsuki, and the world burning around them. Soft is ok here.

Kirishima’s familiar belly-deep laughter gives him a boost of energy.

‘Let’s kick some ass.’

Bakugou feels, for one glorious moment, like he can take on the entire world.

They take their first few steps before Kirishima steps in front of him, blocking off his path. When he looks up to catch his eyes again, the blonde’s protests and insults die in his throat.

Kirishima’s gaze is trained on him as he slowly reaches forward and grabs Bakugou’s right forearm with his right hand, fingers digging into the muscle. It’s a firm, solid grip, reassuring and warm and so very familiar. His eyes are bright, bold, and wine-red. And they’re so full of love, brimming with the kind of affection, respect, and adoration that Bakugou never thought he’d be subjected to. Kirishima opens his mouth as if to say everything his body is already telling Bakugou.

‘I know,’ Bakugou interrupts, voice hoarse. Because he does know. The redhead is his best friend in the entire world, his person, his rock. ‘I know, Ei.’ His own fingers wrap around Kirishima’s wide forearm, gripping tight with calloused, too hot fingers.

Kirishima flashes him another soft smile past his headgear before letting go. He waits for Bakugou to catch up and they walk together, side by side, equals.

When they see the first villain, doing her best to uproot an entire building, Bakugou casts one last look at Kirishima, sees his positively feral smile, and charges with the force of a wild beast.

There are no feels there, just adrenaline, rage, and trust so thick, even concrete would crack under its weight.

---

When you’re training to be a hero, things can go wrong.

Accidents happen. People don’t move out of the way fast enough, or there’s a domino effect of some sort, or the aftershocks of one attack reaches a place it shouldn’t.

Bakugou’s switched up his training partner, choosing to train with Iida to fine-tune his aim and work with a fast-moving target. His blasts hit the mark sometimes, but not always. The gym is huge, so they aren’t really risking anyone with their training; at least, that’s how it is for a while.

But then, Bakugou takes aim and blasts at Iida, Iida dodges swiftly, the attack takes out a portion of the rock formations in the gym, and suddenly there’s a landslide headed right at Hagakure and Kaminari.

Bakugou doesn’t even think about it; his body moves before his brain catches up, and he’s suddenly in front of the two, arms raised to obliterate the debris when he realizes that a portion of the mountain had been laced with explosives for someone else’s training, and his quirk would make things exponentially worse. With the last few moments he has, Bakugou shoves Chargebolt and Invisible Girl away roughly and gets buried under the avalanche of debris.

The last thing he thinks he hears is a chorus of voices yelling Bakugou before his vision goes black.

---

And that’s what Bakugou remembers when he wakes up to white. White walls, white curtains, white sheets.

Unfortunately, the noise isn’t white. It’s annoyingly and stupidly loud.

‘There are too many of you here,’ Recovery girl says, sounding exasperated. ‘He will be fine, he just needs to regain his strength.’

‘Sensei, a whole section of a mountain fell on him, how can he just be fine?’ Jirou questions, sounding severely distressed.

‘Plus, this happened while he was saving me,’ Kaminari chips in. ‘I’m not leaving him.’

‘I have a secret healing quirk of my own,’ Ashido bullshits. ‘He’ll feel so much better when he hears my voice. I have to stay, it’ll be a crime for me to go.’

‘I can tape his wounds?’ Sero offers sheepishly.

He can hear Recovery Girl’s sigh from the other end of the room. ‘And you?’

‘He’s my person.’ Kirishima says it like it’s enough of an explanation.

Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. ‘Overdramatic, the lot of you. Play rock paper scissors or something, but I’m only allowing one of you to stay. The rest of you are going back to the dorms.’

The room bursts into noise again and Bakugou’s head feels like it’s splitting open.  

‘HOLY FUCK, SHUT UP!’ The blonde roars from his bed. ‘I LOVE YOU GUYS, BUT IF YOU DON’T STOP YELLING, I WILL BODILY THROW YOU ALL OUT THE DAMN WINDOW.’

His own yelling does more harm than good to his throbbing head, but the noises stop completely so at least it did its job.

He’s alone for a blissful second before a crowd of five idiots surroundS his bed. Kirishima’s face peers into his, smile wide and eyes crinkled around the edges.

‘Hi, how you feeling?’

‘Like someone ran me through a garbage disposal and then put me in a microwave.’

‘Such details, much prose,’ Sero quips, earning him a chop from Ashido.

‘Blasty my love, can we do anything?’

‘Yeah, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.’

Jirou squeezes his calf from the foot of the bed. ‘You gave us a real scare there.’

‘I’m fine,’ Bakugou grumbles.

‘He will be,’ Recovery Girl reiterates, pushing them away and standing next to him. ‘I’ll do another bout of healing once you’ve recovered some of your strength. You can go back to the dorms before bed.’ She turns to his classmates. ‘Only one of you.’

They look at one another and everyone but Kirishima starts shuffling away reluctantly.

Kaminari lingers behind before quickly giving Bakugou a gentle hug. ‘Thanks,’ he whispers into his ear before pulling off and following after the others. Bakugou rolls his eyes and curls onto his side, yelping when he puts some weight on his tender side.

‘Easy,’ Kirishima mumbles, easing him onto his back. When Bakugou is finally comfortable, Kirishima drags one of the chairs lined up against the wall next to the bed and plops down, exhaling. Bakugou opens a tired eye to look at him and sees Kirishima with a stupidly smug smile on his face.

‘What?’

‘You love us, huh?’

Bakugou had hoped they hadn’t caught that, even though he’d screamed it loud enough for the entire building to have heard. Apparently, a cliff falling on you doesn’t stop you from blushing.

‘Fuck off, you were hearing things,’ he says anyway, because what is Bakugou if not in full denial about so many things?

Kirishima’s laugh is loving not mocking, and he puts his hand on Bakugou’s elbow.

‘Good to have you back Kats.’ He gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘Get some rest huh? I’ll be here when you wake up.’

Bakugou gives him a weak glare, but he can’t muster enough rage and anger because the absolute worst part is, he meant it. Because apparently being a rage-filled hero in training doesn’t make one impervious to feels.

Bakugou feels so betrayed by his own thoughts and emotions.

But right as he loses consciousness, he finds himself wondering if he minds all that much and he decides he doesn’t, almost not at all. The answer doesn’t really surprise him either.

He falls asleep to a cool breeze brushing over his skin and the sound of Kirishima humming under his breath.

[honey-dewey]

When I’m Older and I’m Wiser

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Dentist Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: General medical fic involving dentistry and recovering from wisdom tooth surgery. Mentions of pills, blood, needles, and Marcus being very high. Some use of (F/N) (L/N), but not much.

How the hell Marcus Moreno has gotten this far in his life without getting his wisdom teeth removed is beyond you. But that fateful day comes, and honestly you really should just quit being the Heroic’s dentist because it’s probably taking years off your life. Mostly because your current patient is very cute, very high, and in your care for the next 24 hours, which is a dangerous combination.

“Ow.” 

Missy looked over from where she’d been getting a second glass of milk, turning her attention to her dad. Marcus was staring at the eggs on his plate, seemingly frozen. The look on his face could only be described as offended, as if the eggs had just bit him back. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting back down and nudging Marcus with her foot. 

“Hurts,” Marcus mumbled, putting a hand to his cheek. The last thing he had expected was pain upon eating scrambled eggs, but it was there. 

Missy shrugged, digging into her own eggs. “Could it be a cavity?” 

Marcus shook his head, moving his hand to his other cheek. “Both sides.” 

“Two cavities?” 

Giving Missy a playful dirty look, Marcus took another bite of eggs, face scrunching when the pain persisted. 

Missy raised an eyebrow, and Marcus suddenly regretted having a tiny powerhouse of a daughter. “When was the last time you saw Dr. (L/N)?”

“Uh,” Marcus squirmed a bit under her judgmental gaze, thinking back. “I made an appointment right before your mother passed, but then she died and we were in mourning, and then I quit actively hero-ing full time, and then I took a while off to raise you, and then I started my new job, and then I was kidnapped by aliens, so I dunno. A few years?” 

“A few years?” Missy said, cocking her head slightly. “You make me go every six months!” 

“You’re still growing!” Marcus defended. “I’d be an awful parent if I didn’t keep up with your health.” 

Missy sighed. “Please tell me you’ve seen an actual doctor recently.” 

Marcus nodded. “Saw my GP last month.” 

“Good,” Missy said. “Can you see Dr. (L/N) today please?” 

Again, Marcus nodded. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder just who’s running this household.” 

“It’s me.” 

“I know kiddo. I know.”

Their drive to Heroic headquarters was silent, but comfortable, as it usually was. Marcus parked, the throbbing in his jaw just getting worse as he and Missy got on the bus into headquarters. Missy broke off in the reception area, heading down the hall with a wave. Marcus waved back, smiling at her as she disappeared. 

Wiping his hands on his shirt, Marcus walked up to the receptionist, who gave him a friendly smile. “Hello Marcus, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey Rhea,” Marcus said, leaning slightly on the counter. “When’s my first meeting?” 

Rhea hummed, putting his name into the computer and clicking a few times. “Looks like your earliest meeting is at 2:30.” 

“Awesome,” Marcus groaned. “Does Dr. (L/N) have any available appointments in the morning?” 

“Has someone been skipping out on the dentist?” Rhea said jokingly, moving to a different computer screen. “Was it Missy who made you go?” 

“Yeah.” 

Rhea laughed. “That kid,” she said softly. “And you’re in luck. Dr. (L/N) has an available appointment in half an hour, at nine. I’ll get you set up with it, okay?” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah, that works. Thank you Rhea. I’ll see you later.” 

He waited for his appointment in the hero lounge, reading a book and chewing absently on his thumb nail. When his watch read ten 'til nine, he put his book in his bag and began to make his way down to the medical wing of the building. 

The medical wing was not one Marcus was in frequently. He knew some of the staff, but not all of them. But he waved to them all the same, eventually reaching the dentist’s section with five minutes to spare. 

“Mr. Moreno!” The nurse behind the reception counter said cheerily. “I thought it had to be a mistake when I saw you had an appointment.” 

“Please,” Marcus said. “Just Marcus will do.” 

The nurse nodded. “Of course. The doctor will be right out. You’re her first of the day, and honestly, I think she thought your name was a typo too. It’s been too long.” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah. Missy chewed me out about that earlier.” 

“I’ll bet.” The nurse gestured to a row of chairs. “Take a seat. I’ll go see if the doc is ready.” 

Marcus sat down, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs in an effort to calm his nerves. 

“Moreno?” 

He looked up, heart suddenly beating fast. Standing in the doorway that separated the waiting room from the actual office was Dr. (L/N), looking very expectant and a tiny bit disappointed. 

———

Marcus stood, following you back into the office. His steps behind you were nervous, a high contrast to the confident clicking of your shoes. 

“Long time no see,” you said, pushing open a door and gesturing Marcus into the exam room. “What finally brought you back?” 

“Aside from Missy?” Marcus asked, sitting in the chair and rocking his left foot back and forth on the ankle. “I woke up this morning and it hurt to eat breakfast.” 

You nodded, washing your hands and donning a pair of gloves. “And there wasn’t any pain last night?” 

“Maybe a tiny bit.” Marcus watched you sit on a rolling stool, moving so you were just at his side. “But nothing I was worried about.” 

You crossed your legs, thinking. “Did you do any intense training in the past 24 hours?”

“Nothing involving my head.” 

“Well then it’s probably just a cavity or two,” you decided, rolling closer to Marcus’s head and putting both feet on the floor. “Let’s take a look, get some x-rays, and see if we can’t have you feeling better soon.” 

You adjusted the chair so Marcus was staring up at the ceiling, and at a large space mobile you’d hung ages ago. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

You smiled, pulling a mask up over your nose. “Relax Marcus. I’m not gonna hurt you on purpose.” 

Marcus still squirmed a bit as you examined his mouth, your brows knitting tighter and tighter as you realized this wasn’t a simple case of a few cavities. 

“Marcus,” you said slowly, sitting him up and tugging your mask down under your chin. “You’re in your forties, right?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please tell me you don’t still have your wisdom teeth.” 

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. Why? Is that a bad thing?” 

“Most people have theirs removed when they’re teenagers,” you explained, pulling down the x-ray machine. “That way, there’s less risk of nerve damage. It’s not a bad thing to have them removed later in life, but it does come with higher risks.” 

“Oh.” The reassurance didn’t comfort Marcus much as you softly directed him through the various x-rays. 

You pulled the piece of plastic out of his mouth as the final x-ray hit your computer. “Sorry about that,” you said, watching Marcus rub his face. “I know it sucks. But, good news, I have an answer for you.” 

You let Marcus turn so he was facing your computer. “It’s definitely your wisdom teeth,” you said, tugging your gloves off and pointing at the computer screen. “See? All four of them are coming in, which is impressive. I can probably take them out tomorrow, honestly. Those suckers can get really painful really fast, so we’re gonna want to take care of it as soon as possible.” 

Marcus paled. “Tomorrow?” 

“That would be best.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I do one of these surgeries like, once a month. I know what I’m doing, and you’re going to be just fine.” 

“Okay,” Marcus said, nodding and staring at you. “I believe you.” 

You smiled. “Perfect. So I can schedule your surgery for super early tomorrow, I’m thinking around seven, maybe seven thirty. We wanna get it out of the way early because you can’t eat anything for twelve hours beforehand.” As you explained, you gathered some papers from a desk drawer. “I assume you want general anesthesia.” 

“Is that the option where I sleep through it all?” 

“Yep,” you said, stapling the papers together and handing them to Marcus. “As per protocol, we’re going to need reassurance you’ll be with a responsible adult guardian for at least forty eight, if not seventy two hours post surgery. The first twelve to twenty hour can be brutal, so you definitely want someone there during that.”

Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t got anyone besides my mom, who I assumed would be taking Missy while I healed.” 

“That’s okay,” you promised. “We can get someone here to care for you for two days. You’d have to stay here at headquarters, but you’d be comfortable and cared for. Whatever you do, I’ll call in some pain prescriptions and the like for you to pick up after work today. Just see the pharmacy out front and they’ll give the pills to you.” 

You stood, gesturing Marcus up. “So, to recap. Get here early tomorrow, no food after seven tonight, and wear comfy clothes. Most patients go with sweatpants, but you go with whatever is most comfortable to you. Bring a change of pyjamas and your prescriptions if you’re staying with us, and I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Moreno,” you said as you led him back to the lobby. 

Tomorrow came faster than anticipated, and before you knew it, it was seven AM and you were waiting for Marcus with your nurse beside you. 

“Damn his mouth is messed up,” the nurse mumbled, looking over the x-rays. “All four?” 

“All four,” you agreed, smiling as the lobby door opened. “Mr. Moreno! Follow me. I assume you stuck with the rules I gave you yesterday?” 

“Yeah,” Marcus said, handing you the paper bag with his prescriptions and a small drawstring bag that presumably had clothes in it. “I’m gonna be staying here.” 

“Perfect,” you said, pushing open the operating room door. “I see we’re dressed for the occasion.” 

Marcus turned red, looking down at his soft black sleep pants and a worn out Fleetwood Mac shirt. “Yeah.” 

You put Marcus’s stuff down on the counter, handing him a small white cup. “That is a super powerful mouthwash,” you explained. “Take it, and do try and keep it in your mouth for a minute. I know it tastes horrible.” 

Marcus did try, but he only made it to thirty seconds before he had to spit out the disgustingly bitter mouthwash. 

You laughed at his face, pulling on your gloves. “Alright Marcus, that works.” 

He smiled softly, relaxing a tiny bit. “Thanks.” 

“I wouldn’t thank anyone who made me take that stuff,” you said, grabbing a thin tube and holding it out. “That goes under your nose and over your ears, just like that,” you praised as Marcus threaded the tube over his ears. “Now, can I see your hand?” 

Marcus let you clip a heart rate monitor to his right index finger, watching as you walked to his other side and held up the final thing. “And last, but not least.” 

Immediately, Marcus looked extremely nervous again. You put down the IV line and rubbed his shoulder, trying to work away some of the tension. “Hey. Look at me. Just a pinch, and then you can take a nice long nap, okay? Deep breaths Marcus, deep breaths.” 

Marcus took a breath, and you carefully took your hand off his shoulder. You slowly directed his head onto the chair’s headrest, still murmuring reassurances. “That’s it. Count the stars on my mobile out loud. I can’t remember how many there are.” 

“Okay.” Marcus looked up, slowly counting out loud as you found his vein and stuck him with the IV line as quickly as you could. You administered some of the anesthesia, smiling as Marcus’s numbers began to slip and slide, until he wasn’t even counting as much as he was just mumbling out random mushy words. 

“Goodnight Marcus.” 

You gestured the nurse in, and she smiled, taking Marcus’s glasses and setting them on top of his other things. You finished off the anesthesia, watching Marcus’s eyes close. 

When he woke again, it was to you pulling the IV line out and taping a cotton ball to his arm. “Wa’s happ’nin’?” He slurred around the cotton and the drugs. 

“The surgery was a success,” you explained softly, despite Marcus not really understanding you. “All four teeth came out with no issue, and we’re about to take you to recovery. Oh, Marcus, keep your head up.” 

Marcus struggled to keep his head upright, and you giggled, holding your hands out. “C’mon. Let’s get you into a real bed.” 

You’d been through this with many patients before Marcus, but he seemed to be a stand-out, as you had some trouble getting him in the wheelchair and down the hallways into the recovery wing. He definitely fell under the ever entertaining category of ‘toddler high’ patients. His slurred words and puppy dog eyes made you laugh more than once on your way to his room. You actually had to stop and pause to laugh when he slurred out that he thought you were an Angel. He simply watched you with an exaggerated worried expression, half his words getting lost as he tried to mumble something out. 

“What was that Marcus?” You asked, wiping your eyes and continuing down the hall with him. 

“You’re tho prethy.” He said, head tipping down. 

“Head up,” you coaxed softly, smiling despite yourself. “Look, there’s your room.” 

Getting him in the room, which was more of a small, one person condo space, was thankfully the hardest part. But once you were in, he was very sleepy putty in your hands. 

“Okay Marcus,” you said gently, helping him out of the wheelchair and onto the couch, piling a few pillows beneath his head “Do you want anything before you go to sleep?” 

Marcus looked up at you. Between his cotton stuffed cheeks and his wide doe eyes, he looked a tiny bit ridiculous. You smiled, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick picture while he was still drugged as hell. “Marcus?” 

“Mittenth.” 

“What?” 

Marcus pointed to his bag. “Mittenth.” 

You walked over to the bag, opening it up and finding a black and white stuffed cat right on top. “Oh. Mittens.” 

You handed the cat to Marcus, who immediately snuggled it to his chest and rolled over a bit, falling asleep instantly. 

Again, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked so innocent like this, all curled up and sleeping. You hesitated to call him adorable, but if the shoe fit.

You sighed, picking up your phone and trailing into the single bedroom. Changing quickly into your leisure clothes, you texted one of the people at the pharmacy and requested a few ice packs and a wisdom tooth slushee. Both things were delivered in a matter of minutes, and you placed them securely in the small freezer to wait for Marcus. 

When he woke up, he was significantly less high. Looking around, Marcus poked his cheeks and made a face. “I can’t feel my nose.” 

“The entire bottom half of your face is numb,” you pointed out from your position at the two person table in the kitchen. “And believe me, you’re gonna want it to stay that way.” 

Marcus sat up, looking over at you. “I’m hungry.” 

“No solids for a while,” you told him, standing and grabbing his slushee. “But you can have this. And before you ask, yes you have to use the spoon.” 

Marcus pouted, but took the slushee. “But the cotton.” 

You nodded, settling on the couch next to him. “Open wide.” 

Marcus did, allowing you to shove two fingers into his mouth and fish out the cotton. “Still bleeding,” you mumbled to yourself. “We’ll shove more in there when you’re done. For now,” You tipped the slushee at him. “Eat up.” 

You turned your attention to the TV while Marcus ate slowly, taking tiny bites and occasionally sticking his tongue out. “It’s really numb.” 

“That’ll fade by tomorrow morning,” you promised. “At noon I want you to take your first pills. Then you get more at one.” 

Again, Marcus pouted, but simply sank lower into the couch cushions and mindlessly watched whatever was on TV. “Is my face swelling?” 

You shrugged. “No more than other patients. But yeah, just a bit.” 

“Do I look stupid?” 

The question made you laugh. “Marcus, I’ve had so many ridiculous patients. You’re no worse than some of my other ones, I promise.” 

Marcus accepted this and continued to take small bites of his slushee. “Why’s it gotta be blue?” 

“Because blue isn’t even remotely close to red.” You didn’t even look up as you answered. “Same goes for when little kids get teeth pulled. You want something that’s soft, easy to swallow, and isn’t the color of blood.” 

“Oh.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. How’s your mouth feeling?” 

Marcus mulled it over, eventually deciding on saying “Kinda achy.” 

“I’ll give you those pills soon,” you said. “It’s gonna be tricky, considering any kind of anything touching those holes in your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch.” 

“Even water?” 

“Even water.” 

Marcus groaned, and you shrugged. “Sorry. But you’re the one who waited until now to do this.” 

When Marcus finished his slushee, you grabbed a pill bottle off the kitchen counter, quickly glancing at the label and nodding. “Two of these,” you said, opening a cabinet and taking out a glass. “Come here.” 

Marcus trudged over, leaning heavily against the counter’s edge. You put the two round pills on the counter, along with the glass of water. “Best to do it quickly. And one at a time.”  

Picking up one of the pills, Marcus carefully put it on his tongue, taking the glass with a hesitant hand. He took a sip, swallowing quickly and audibly. “Can’t I use a straw?” 

“Yeah,” you said sarcastically. “If you want dry socket, go ahead.” 

“Do I want to know what that is?” 

“Nope.” You pushed the second pill towards Marcus. “Take that, then you can lay back down.” 

Marcus sighed, mirroring his previous action. However, instead of simply swallowing with a tight face, Marcus started, eyes filling with tears as he spit the water into the sink, the pill clattering against the metal. 

You immediately began to worry as Marcus cried. It wasn’t a small tear or two either. He was full on sobbing, gripping the edges of the sink so tight his knuckles went white. 

“Marcus,” you murmured, putting a hand on his arm. He looked up at you, and you put on your most comforting smile. “Hey, it’s okay.” You picked up a towel and slowly wiped the residual water off his face. “C’mere.” 

He collapsed into your arms, going limp and continuing to cry. You rubbed his back, heart tightening whenever he let out a whimper of “hurts.” 

“I know,” you said softly. “I know it hurts. But you have to take the pills.” 

“Can’t,” Marcus hiccuped, burying himself deeper into your sweater. 

“Marcus,” you said firmly, slowly untangling him from you. “I know it hurts. But you’ll be in more pain from not taking the pills. Please, for me?” 

He took a breath. “Can we watch TV afterwards?” 

You smiled. “Of course. I can give you ice for the swelling too.” 

Marcus nodded, looking into the sink. “Do I take that one?” 

“No,” you said, fishing a new pill out of the container. “It’s in the sink, I’m not gonna take that risk. Here.” 

Marcus stared at the unassuming white pill in his hand. “Which one is this?” 

“The acetaminophen.” 

“The what?” 

“Tylenol.” 

Marcus nodded, popping the pill into his mouth and quickly gulping down the water. This time, he avoided hitting his stitches and simply handed you the glass. “I’m not doing that again.” 

You took the glass, putting it in the sink. “You have more pills to take in an hour.” 

Marcus groaned. “TV?” 

“Of course,” you said, walking to the couch and smiling as Marcus fell onto it. “What do you wanna watch?” 

Marcus turned his red rimmed puppy dog eyes on you. “Say Yes to the Dress?” 

You laughed. “Are you serious? We can, but that’s not what I expected at all.” 

“I like trash TV when I feel terrible.” Marcus grabbed Mittens and cuddled the stuffed cat to his chest. 

You found the show, setting it up and standing. “More cotton. You're probably still bleeding, and we definitely don’t want that. Open.” 

It took some finessing to get two more wads of cotton into Marcus’s mouth, but you succeeded, despite his complaints of feeling like a cartoon chipmunk. 

 “I’m gonna go start on dinner,” you said.  “Are you gonna be okay here?” 

Marcus pouted. “Do you have to start now?” 

“Yeah.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll only be gone for twenty minutes. Soup just needs to sit for a while.” 

Slightly consoled, Marcus zoned out at the TV while you got to work making a simple chicken noodle soup. 

“Done,” you said, wiping your hands and walking back to the couch twenty minutes later. “Marcus, are you still awake?” 

Marcus grumbled, holding his hands out. “C’mere.” 

You passed him an ice pack, and he made a face. “Not what I want.” 

“What do you want?” 

As if somehow knowing they were your kryptonite, Marcus gave you his puppy dog eyes. “Wanna hold you.” 

You sighed, but crawled into his arms anyway. When you finally settled, he was on his back, head and neck propped up on the arm of the couch, and you were on your side between the back of the couch and Marcus. He was warm, wrapping one arm loosely over your waist and using the other hand to press the ice into his cheek. 

You quickly slid into a nice comfortable headspace, occasionally smiling when Marcus commented on the wedding dresses on screen. 

“You dropped Mittens,” you realized after a while, shuffling to grab the discarded toy from the floor. 

Marcus took Mittens, gently placing the cat on his chest, so that it was secure on his sternum. 

“Does Mittens belong to Missy?” 

“Belonged to Clara.” 

“Oh.” You saw the change in demeanor, noticed how Marcus’s face steeled when he said her name. He rarely talked about Clara, especially at work. “I’m-“ 

“Nah,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “It’s the past. I’m happy now, and so is Mittens.” 

You nestled deeper into his chest. “Happy right now?” 

“Definitely happy right now,” Marcus said softly. “Very happy, even though I can’t feel my face.” 

“Even if you could,” you mumbled, knowing where this was headed. “You can’t kiss anyone for a while.” 

Marcus grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to wait then, won’t we?” 

You mirrored his mischievous smile. “You can’t kiss,” you said, scooting upwards, until you were laying on top of Marcus, your belly on his ribs. “But I can.” 

You lay gentle kisses across his cheeks, smiling when he laughed at your insistence upon kissing his nose. His cheeks were cold from the ice and tender from the swelling, but Marcus never tried to stop you, so you continued downwards, kissing the pulse points on his neck. 

“You’re a damn tease,”  Marcus huffed. 

You simply smiled into his skin and tugged the collar of his shirt down, pressing firm kisses into the points of his collarbones.

“Hey,” Marcus nudged your head. “Can we finish this when I don’t have a mouth of stitches? I still can’t feel my tongue.” 

“Of course,” you said, pushing his shirt collar back up and laying your head on his sternum. “How long?” 

“Hm?” 

You shrugged, watching a woman try on a stunning wedding dress on the TV. “How long have you wanted to kiss me?” 

Marcus thought it over. “Last year,” he finally decided. “When Missy had three teeth out. You were so kind, and I just melted.” 

“But you didn’t fall in love hard enough to ever pay me a visit,” you teased, tracing the faded symbol on his shirt. 

“Didn’t ever want to go under and realize I’d spilled everything,” Marcus confessed. 

You smiled. “Too late. You said I looked like an Angel in the hallway.” 

Marcus turned bright red, and you laughed at him. “It’s okay,” you promised, kissing his cheek that didn’t have the ice pack. “I think you’re pretty handsome yourself.” 

That night, after dinner and more pills and ice cream for dessert, you and Marcus settled down in the only bedroom, clinging to each other as if your lives depended on it. 

Waking up was hard. Marcus was well enough to go home, most of the swelling gone and the numbness completely faded. 

“So,” you clicked down the halls of the dentist’s office, Marcus behind you. “No really hot liquids for another few days, and try not to do solids until then either. That antibacterial mouthwash should be used twice a day, and you can start brushing your teeth again in two days. Remember, no straws, take your pills, keep icing your cheeks, and if I see you in this office before this time next week, I will be calling your mother.” 

Marcus nodded as you pulled open the lobby door, where Anita and Missy were waiting. “Anything else Doctor?” 

You shook your head. “You should be all clear Mr. Moreno. I’ll be seeing you for your check-up next week. Don’t you go skipping out on me now.” 

Marcus smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, leaning a bit closer to you. “And I cannot wait to kiss you for real.” 

He pulled away, leaving you flushed and dizzy. “See you next week Doctor.” 

“See you next week Mr. Moreno.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

[one-chicago-fanfiction]

Gabby and Antonio: This Instinct to Run

Word Count: 2k

Summary: This story is set many years prior to the beginnings of all One Chicago shows. When Antonio tells Gabby he's having top surgery at last, the two of them share a difficult, interesting conversation.

Antonio Dawson was nervous. He was waiting for his sister in their usual spot—a diner on the corner, just a few blocks away from the house they grew up in. It had, for a while, been their after school place, mostly in the years where Gabby was too young to be home alone, and Antonio’s school bus took longer to get him home than her’s did. They were older now, and Antonio was nursing a coffee, slouched down in the seat, one knee up at his chest, the other leg stretched out before him. He probably didn’t look nervous, but his heart was slamming hard in his chest, and a sickly sort of adrenaline coursing through him.

They hadn’t seen a lot of each other lately, and it was starting to take a toll as far as Antonio was concerned. Gabby was taking classes, training as an EMT. Antonio’s heart, meanwhile, still pulled him towards the same two things it always had. One of those things was the Chicago police department, a dream he’d harboured for almost as long as he could remember. When he thought about how long it was taking him to get started in his career there, he ached as if he’d already lost something. There was a desperation there, thrumming under his skin, a voice telling him soon, soon…

But first, there was something else he needed to do, something even more important. This thing, this one last thing on his to do list before he could start the rest of his life? Antonio Dawson had never wanted anything more.

Gabby walked into the diner, and met his eye with a smile and a nod. She ordered herself a drink and slid onto one of the seats opposite him, pausing only to kiss his cheek before she pulled off her coat and sat down. Antonio sat a little straighter. There was so much of their mother in Gabby, and the smile he gave his loving, strong willed, incredible sister was small, nervous. Something flashed through her eyes, something like suspicion. She’d seen, right away, the thing he’d been trying to hide.

“Good to see you, sis,” he said. Gabby hummed, dismissing his attempt at pleasantries.

“What’s going on with you?” She asked, nodding thanks to the waiter who placed her coffee on the table between them. She took a long sip.

“What’re you talking about?” Antonio asked. “I’m all good.”

“Sure,” said Gabby, wiping foam from her top lip. “That’s why you’re all weird and—sweaty—right now.”

“I’m not...” Antonio started, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m not sweaty.”

“And I’m not stupid,” Gabby said. “This isn’t no casual catch up. I wanna know what’s going on.” As kindly as she said it, her unblinking gaze was a challenge, and one of the common themes of their childhood had been Gabby’s challenges, Antonio succumbing to them every time.

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. I have news. I was gonna build up to telling you this, you know? I was actually gonna ask how things are going with you.”

“You can ask me that after,” she said, then another swig of her coffee. Antonio could smell the sweetness of it from here. Pumpkin spice maybe. Damn October. A pang of envy struck him. He should have thought of that himself. He cleared his throat, pulled himself back to what mattered.

“Sure,” he said, a quick glance around the diner before he went on, talking a little quieter now. “Okay. I, uh…I got the money together for my top surgery. It’s finally gonna happen.”

“Woah,” Gabby said, eyes wide, pushing her coffee aside as she leaned in a little closer. “Woah, Antonio. That’s—amazing. Are you, uh—I mean—do you have a date yet?”

“Two months from now,” he said, unable to stave off his idiot grin, even with his heart pounding so hard. He wondered if he looked as unhinged as he was worried he did.

“That’s soon,” Gabby said.

“Not soon enough,” Antonio said. “Trust me.”

“So,” said Gabby, and paused. It unsettled him that she was taking her time, choosing her words so carefully. It was something he was getting slowly used to, the way his sister would hold herself back sometimes, like his coming out had undone some of the comfort between them, like she couldn’t just let herself be, in case she said something that stung him, as if he wasn’t able to come back from that. Like she didn’t completely know him anymore.

“So?” He prompted.

“So,” she said, “you’re ready, then? I mean…for all of…for everything?”

“All of it,” Antonio said. “I’m ready for all of it.” Gabby smiled.

“Then I’m happy for you.”

“Look,” said Antonio. “I know some of this has been weird for you, but I—“

“Hey, no,” said Gabby. “It’s not that, I just—“

“Would you let me finish?” He said, a fond smile on his face. Gabby yielded with a nod of deference, slouching in her seat now, the mirror image of her brother across the table.

“I just wanted to say I appreciate your support,” he said. “I mean…I also kinda wish you’d stop treating me like some fragile bird.” Gabby made a face.

“Fragile bird?”

“Honestly?” Antonio started. “Never thought I’d say this, but I kinda miss you messing with me all the time. Lately you’ve been treating me like I can’t handle that stuff. Is it, uh…Is it that you’re…”

“That I’m what?” She asked, watching him so intensely now that he had to take a breath just to steady himself.

“Okay,” he said. “Sometimes I’m scared that…I mean, sometimes it feels like, maybe, you don’t know how to talk to me anymore.”

“Antonio,” she said, and his mind jumped back to the first time he’d told her the name he’d chosen, the first time she repeated it back to him, setting it in stone for the both of them. “It’s not that. It’s just…okay, yeah, this is all new to me. I’m kinda learning as we go here. And I love you no matter what, and I want you to be happy. I’m not mom and dad. I’m not gonna try to push you back in the closet just so I can tell myself we’re a normal family. You’re my brother, and I know now—that’s who you’ve always been. It’s just...I guess I’m still getting used to the fact that I was wrong for so long.”

“Okay,” Antonio said, holding himself back from apologising, quiet and desperately proud for not saying it right there at the table. He’d apologised to their parents, to the couple of so called friends who didn’t get it, to the girlfriend who’d broken up with him, pretty much on the spot. At the first hint of her sadness, Antonio had made his apologies and left. But time had passed now, and his truth wasn’t something to apologise for anymore. He knew that now. Or, at least, there were moments when he knew it, and moments when he tried to.

Nobody deserved those apologies from him, and nobody else was going to get them. Not even Gabby.

“Just be patient with me,” Gabby said. “I really am trying.”

Antonio bristled a little, but forced a smile despite it. They’d always been close, always been the ‘Dawson Girls’ growing up, and Antonio had hated that term even before he truly understood why. He wondered if, despite knowing he was only one person, had only ever been one person, if Gabby was mourning him anyway, even as he sat opposite her.

“If you miss having a sister,” said Antonio, “just know you never really had one at all. Just the idea of it, that’s all.” Gabby made a face.

“Well, okay,” she started. “I get that, but for a long time there, that idea was my reality. It’s gonna take me longer than—“

“It’s been over a year,” Antonio said. He hadn’t expected this when they’d arranged to meet, this anger in him, the hot liquid shock of it coiling under his skin. Another living thing inside of him.

His transition was not a graveyard. He wasn’t burying his old self, wasn’t killing off some girl, someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. They hadn’t talked about it, but Gabby had mourned a little at every landmark of his transition. She’d celebrated with him of course, but he could sense the sadness in her too, quiet and hidden away. The day he came out to her, the day he started testosterone, the first day she noticed a drop in his voice. The binder he wore today was safe, and it fit him correctly, and now that he was on T it helped him pass in public, but it still felt like a prison.

Summer had passed, sticky and hot, and all the while Antonio had contended with the harsh fabric against his skin, his chest pressed impossibly flat against him, a miracle and a curse all at once. Working out was almost impossible, breathing too deeply ached, and the sight of other men effortless in tank tops, or shirtless in public—it stung him just to see it. He’d lost count of the summer days he’d spent whiled away inside, just so he didn’t have to bind in that heat, just so he didn’t have to come face to face with the things he needed to survive, and didn’t yet have.

His sister watched him from across the table, folded her arms across her chest. There was Dawson anger in her as well, and the barest hint of disappointment that only made Antonio want to get up and leave. He’d perfected that too—this instinct to run.

“Do you really think I’m like that?” Gabby asked. “You really think I’m not happy for you, just because I miss thinking I had a sister? Sometimes I do miss thinking that, but I have a brother now, and I wouldn’t change you for anything. All that stuff mom and dad think matters? It doesn’t. This does. We do.”

Antonio blinked. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s...that’s what I mean. I guess...I guess I just don’t like feeling like I’m something you have to settle for.” Gabby’s gaze hardened on him then. She was fierce, and wild—they both were, in a way, but Gabby was sharper at her edges, and stronger at her heart. Antonio swallowed hard.

“You are not a consolation prize, Antonio,” she said, and for a long moment afterwards, neither of them said anything. They just sat there, the Dawson siblings, eyes fixed on each other, just watching, waiting for one of them to break.

In the end, as was always the way among them, it was Antonio.

“Long story short,” he said, “I called you here to ask you something.”

“Sure,” said Gabby, reaching for her coffee once more, the tension going out of her, the air a little cooler and easier to breathe between them. Antonio felt his heartbeat calm a little too. He fixed his eyes on the table in front of him.

“Can I, uh…Can I stay with you for a while? After surgery I mean.” He glanced up to find Gabby smiling at him, watched as she reached across the table and punched him on the arm, as if they were kids again. “Ow.”

“Damn right you’re staying with me,” she said. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

“There’s no one better,” he said, rubbing his arm. Gabby laughed.

“No one better to order me around,” she said, “than my big brother.”

“Will you listen to me, though?” He asked.

“Nah,” said Gabby, and clinked her cup against his before downing the rest of her coffee. “Cheers.”

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

[crowdedimagines]

Happy To Help - David Dobrik

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up in our bed. David came in with a serious look on his face. One that I don’t see very often. Definitely not this early on a Sunday morning, it’s still early and quiet. The only reason he got out of bed was his mom calling his phone.

“My dad threw out his back really badly and he needs surgery.” He walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Is he okay?” I ask tentatively.

“Yeah, he’s claiming he’s fine but my mom said he can’t even move. He’s in a lot of pain.” David wipes at his face, “Fuck.”

“How can I help?” I take his hand in mine and try to get him to focus, “Should we fly out to help out? If he needs surgery he’s going to be in the hospital for a while.”

He nods and leans into my touch. I pull him back to lay on top of me on our bed. He worries about his family all the time, this is like a nightmare for him.

“I’m gonna call Jack.” He announces.

He grabs his phone and calls his manager to inform him of what happened. I tune out most of what he says as I grab a bag for each of us. I start packing my own things so we can leave as soon as he needs to.

“Are you serious?” David’s voice suddenly pulls me from my thoughts. He’s sitting on the Lovesac with his phone on speaker.

“I can try to get you out of that shoot David, but they're just going to cut you out and move on with someone else. The only real issue with it is that filming for Dodgeball Thunderdome starts this week. We’ve signed a lot of contracts, I can try to get you out of them but I know how excited you were about hosting this show.”

“Fuck.” He mutters softly. “I need to be in Vernon hills by tonight. My parents are going to in to Chicago for surgery so someone needs to stay at the house. Plus once they get back they’ll need help.”

“I totally get that David.” Jack agrees, “I just want you to know the gravity of you leaving this week. The position you’re putting in those you work with. I just worry about your reputation a little and if they’ll be willing to postpone for you.”

“I’ll go.” I cut in. There’s no need for David to give up something he’s worked so hard for and he loves so much. He’s one of the hardest working people I know and he deserves everything that he’s earned.

“What?” David’s head snaps in my direction.

“You stay here, get everything done that you need to. I’ll fly out and help with the girls and Toby. Then I’ll be there when your parents get home to help. You can fly out once you’re done with everything or you get a break.” I shrug.

“Jack, let me call you back.” He hangs up the phone and gets up from his seat. He walks over to grab my hand and fully pull my attention from the clothes I had been folding, “Are you serious right now? You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would.” I smile, his arms wrap around my waist so mine settle over his shoulder, connecting at the back of his neck, “I would do anything for you, and your family. This is not a big deal, and it would make me happy to help. Plus then you don’t have to give up hosting your show. You’ve been excited about this for months.”

“I love you so much.” He sighs, pulling me in tight against his chest.

“You’re alright.” I tease, earning a laugh from him.

David insists on paying for my flight and driving me to the airport.

“Okay, my parents are waiting to leave once you get there. I already set up a rental car for you, so then you’ll have one the whole time you’re there.”

“Thank you, babe.” I press a kiss to his lips.

We get out of the car and David pulls my suitcase from the trunk.

“I cannot thank you enough for this.” He wraps his arms around my waist.

“I don’t need a thank you.” I shake my head, “One more kiss will do, though.”

David happily obliges, leaning in and pressing a kiss that lasted longer than all the others.

“Call me when you land.”

“Of course.”

I start to walk away, knowing that we could be saying our goodbyes for the next half hour if I don’t.

“I love you.” “I love you too.”

The flight is fairly uneventful and quiet, I try to sleep on the way to just be fully rested. Once I land I go find the car rental place and David (Natalie) had set everything up in advance so there wasn’t much waiting there either. I text Ester to let her know that I am on my way, she is definitely the Dobrik I talk to the most, other than David obviously. I make the drive to the Vernon Hills home, I call David on the way to talk for a while and let him know that I landed safely.

I park on the road so I don’t block in their car in the driveway and take my suitcase from the trunk. Toby greets me before I can even make it to the door, pulling me in for a hug. He holds open the door for me and I am greeted by the whole Dobrik family.

Palo is laying on the couch, in obvious discomfort. I send him a smile and say hello. I notice that they’re already packed up with everything they’ll need for the week.

“Thank you for being so kind.” Cristina sighs pulling me in for another hug.

“I am happy to help in any way I can.” I smile, “Please let me know if you need anything else, honestly, anything you guys need.”

We talk for a little while before they leave so they can check in. It’s over an hour drive to the hospital they’re doing it at so they leave now.

“Alright, now it’s just us.” I laugh, we’ve all already eaten dinner so we all sit down in the living room to watch a movie. We don’t stay up late, all three of them have school tomorrow. Ester stays up a little later, she talks to me about school, boys, and drama.

After we both say goodnight I make my way up to David’s room. It’s always been the room I stay in with David, but I’ve never been here without him.

“I’m laying in your childhood bed right now.”

“Why do you make that sound so sexy.” He laughs, “It’s kind of turning me on.”

“Gross.” I laugh loudly.

“How’s everything going?” He asks.

“So far it’s fine. Your dad looked like he really needed to get out of the house tonight and get checked in so I’m glad I flew in tonight instead of tomorrow morning.”

“Me too.” He sighs, “I can never thank you enough for this.”

“You don’t need to thank me, isn’t that what girlfriends are for?” I laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a girlfriend do something like this for me before.”

“I guess I’m pretty special then.” I grin, turning on my side. It’s not very often that I sleep by myself now that David and I live together, but it’s comforting to hear his voice.

“That you are.”

I don’t remember saying goodnight to David, but at some point I must’ve fallen asleep. I wake up when my alarm goes off, notifying me that I need to get ready so I can get everyone else ready and drive them all to school.

“Good morning.” I smile seeing Sara and Ester come down the stairs.

They sit down for a bowl of cereal, eventually Toby comes down, his hair angled in fifty different directions, reminding me of his older brother.

“Alright, everyone’s ready for school?”

Everyone piles in the car and we leave. I drop off Toby first, seeing as his school day starts earlier than the girls. I drop off Sara next, leaving only Ester and I in the car.

“What’s so funny?” Ester grins, glancing at me from the passenger seat.

“I never thought that I would be a soccer mom at twenty-two. It’s a little odd dropping kids off at school.”

“Whatever.” She bumps my shoulder lightly, “You’re not a mom. Yet.”

“Yet?” I raise my brows, looking over at her amused. David and I have never talked about kids, even though it's known that we both want them, just not any time soon.

“You and David will be married any day now. And the way David talks about you guys on the podcast, it doesn’t seem like you guys are staying celebete.”

My face takes on a red tint. I’ve never been a shy girl, but I was not expecting this to be our car ride conversation. Ester is old enough to not be phased by talking about sex, we’ve been having boy talk for practially as long as David and I have been dating. I’ve talked about worse, but I’ve never gone into details when it pertained to her brother.

“Oh my god, shut up!” I laugh.

“What we always talk about boys!” She grins.

“Well, it’s definitely different when my boy is your brother.”

“Yeah, that’s not the greatest, but I like talking to you. You give off older sister vibes.”

“Thanks. Now get out of the car.” I smirk, teasing her. We’re pulled up in front of her school, the same school David went to high school.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime!” I manage to pull out before many fans take notice. Thankfully, I’m not David, but still we could easily form a crowd if I stayed for too long.

It takes a few more days to fall into a good rhythm with everything. Between the kids homework, making meals, cleaning, and just trying to keep everything organized for when David’s parents come back it's been an exhausting yet rewarding week. Palo’s surgery was today, it went well. He only needs a few days in recovery before he can come home.

“Y/n, David’s asking for you.” Ester comes down the stairs, phone in hand.

“Babe, you didn’t answer your phone!” He yells through the phone.

Ester holds out her phone so I can see him on facetime.

“Sorry, Sara and I are painting our nails!” I hold up a hand as proof and he nods.

“So, how’s everything going?”

“It’s good babe, it’s actually been a pretty fun week.” I smile, “I’m starting to like your siblings more than I like you.”

“And we definitely like Y/n more than you!” Toby teases leaning into frame.

“Fuck you guys.” He laughs.

“So how’s filming been? I saw your story! Very fancy them giving you someone to follow you around with an umbrella.”

“It’s been fun. I forgot just how good it feels to be working! Do you have any idea when you’re coming back?”

I shake my head, “No, your parents are coming home in three days and I’ll talk to them and go from there. Are you still planning on staying in L.A?”

“Yeah, my mom insisted I stay here. She already feels guilty enough making you fly out, but we’ll see.”

“Okay, keep me posted. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

Ester takes her phone back and continues talking with David.

“I like the color you picked better.” Sara comments, noticing the light color I’ve picked for my nails.

“Wanna trade?”

“What? We already painted one of our hands.” She looks up at me confused.

“So what! It’ll be different. Then we kind of match.”

Sara and I finish up our nails. We all call Palo and Cristina, our nightly ritual to say good night to everyone. Everyone goes to bed, I stay up a little later so I can clean up the dishes from dinner and the nail polish that we left on the counter.

The rest of the week passes by without any hiccups. There’s a few times I can tell Toby really misses his parents, but other than that everything’s been a breeze. More than that actually, I feel closer to all of them. I was nervous to come, even though I would never tell David that. I was afraid to step in and try to help when I have no clue what I’m doing, but it went better than I could imagine.

“Are you absolutely sure?” I ask, “I don’t mind staying longer at all!”

“No!” Cristina insists, “We are fine, Palo is feeling fine now that he’s been back at home for a few days. We will be okay.”

She places a reassuring hand on my arm and I simply smile.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”

“I already told David to book you another flight.”

I thank her and go upstairs so I can pack up all of my belongings. I ended up spending ten days in Chicago, but it was alright. I had fun, and it felt good to be needed.

“Okay, I think I’m all packed up.” I bring my suitcase to the bottom of the stairs and smile at the family in the living room. I get hugs from everyone, and several thank yous. Too many if you ask me.

“I’m going to walk Y/n out to her car.” Ester grabs one of my other bags to walk with me.

“Me too!” Sara tags along.

You could never get me to wipe off the grin watching those two girls bound away with my stuff.

“The ride to school is going to seem boring now.” Ester sighs.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” I grin.

“Yeah, but mom doesn’t talk about weed or hooking up at parties.”

“Shh!” I clamp a hand over her mouth, “And if anyone asks I don’t talk about that stuff either!”

I give them each another hug and start to get back in the car.

“Y/n, will you call me tonight? Like once you’re back home and settled.”

“Yeah, is everything okay?” I raise my brows.

“No, I just have something I want to talk to you about. You’ll get it, it’s fine!”

“Okay, weirdo!” I laugh shutting my door. I back down the driveway and notice that all of the Dobriks are out on the front porch now waving. I wave back with a smile and drive back to Chicago to finally head home.

“Baby, I’m home!” I yell, letting myself in our front door. The goal was to surprise him, he didn’t know that my flight landed early, causing me to get the jump on him.

“Y/n?” He yells back loudly. I drop my bags and round the corner to see him coming to find me.

“Baby!” He instantly pulls me into his arms, “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I sigh, pulling him in a little tighter.

After a good long cuddle in our bed it’s nice to just settle in again. It’s nice to see Natalie and Ilya too. I wasn’t that long, but I was weird to be apart from the whole group for that long. We purge on a large dinner ordered in, after stuffing our faces, David and I settle on the hammock outside together. The sun is setting slowly, letting the sky take on a pink hue.

“I can never thank you enough for what you did.”

“David, you have to stop thanking me.” I sigh, letting him twist and play with my fingers.

“Y/n.” He says my name softly.

“Hmm?” I turn to look at him, he has a surprisingly serious look on his face.

“We just moved in together. I’ve never done that with a girl, I thought that I would be afraid to do it, but with you I am not afraid of the future anymore. The only thing that scares me is a future without you, as cheesy as that sounds. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, more than anything.”

He reaches into his back pocket and I can feel a smile growing on my face. He opens up the black velvet box to reveal a beautiful ring with a large diamond sitting front and center.

“I bought this ring after you left for Chicago. I knew that I wanted to marry you before that, but right then and there I decided that I needed to lock you down.” He pauses to laugh a little, I join in too, “I needed to make if official. Make it real, because I don’t want to waste anymore time as your boyfriend. You treat my family like your own, and I want to make you mine. Forever. Y/n, will you marry me?”

“Of course!” I sigh, no longer fighting the teary eyes. I pull David in for a long sweet kiss. We pull apart laughing, he slides the ring on my finger and I smile even wider.

“Baby, it’s perfect.”

“Ester helped me pick it.” He grins, pressing several more kisses to my temple.

“She did? Of course she did. Well you both did a great job.”

“I’ll be right back, I got us champagne!” He climbs out of the hammock carefully. I smile softly watching him walk away. I pull out my phone to call the girl herself.

“Hello?” She answers almost instantly.

“You picked out a stunning ring.”

“You said yes?” She shrieks.

“Well, duh!” I laugh.

“Yay, oh my god. I love this! She said yes!” She yells loudly to I’m sure the whole family.

“Did everyone know?” I ask, sitting up a little more.

“Yeah, he’s been too excited to keep it to himself. Told everyone in L.A and of course he told us. I think everyone knew but you.”

“Sneaky boy.” I roll my eyes. David makes his way back outside, two glasses in one hand the bottle in the other. The same smile stuck on his face.

“Hey, who are you talking to already?” He rejoins me.

“Your sister. I promised her I would call.”

I put the phone on speaker so David can hear too. We talk with Ester and everyone else in the family for a while. It feels comfortable. We spend the rest of the night snuggled up together, even as it gets colder.

Natalie took a video, which I was completely oblivious to. We also got some really cute pictures, which David proudly sends to the group chat, informing everyone who he had gushed to that I had in fact said yes. It was a steady stream of congratulations.

“Ready to go inside?”

“Mhm” I sigh dreamily looking down at the new piece of jewelry on my hand.

“C’mon, it’ll still be there in the morning.”

an// this was some CUTE fluff!! Also what is David’s mom’s name? I wrote this and then I couldn’t remember if it was right so i went to look it up and i can’t even find it. so if anyone knows, cool! lol

what did you guys think?!?!

[gloriafc]

Amazing Wife

Jack never expected to let anyone close to his heart, until he met you. You had it the instant he laid his eyes on you.

You're a surgeon, a prodigy attending. You're friends with Miranda and Ben, when she was grumbling under her breath you asked her what was wrong, "Ben forgot to grab his lunch, so now I have to cancel my meeting to take it to him." "I can take it. My shift is almost over. I'm just finishing my paperwork."

You walked into the firehouse and Jack instantly walked over towards you with his charm on. "Can I help you with something?" "I'm just looking for Ben. He forgot his lunch." As soon as you finish your sentence Ben rounds the corner, "Prodigy! What brings you here?" You quickly toss the lunch box to him, "You stressing your wife out." Jack watches the two of you interact a little jealous of Ben for the moment. He instantly perks up when he hears Ben offer you a tour of the place, "Alright. I'll bite, only if theres coffee involved."

When you get to the end of the tour Ben shows you the kitchen where almost everyone is waiting for the girl they noticed instantly caught Jack's attention. They attempt to get to know you, not expecting you to be a super human. "Why does Ben call you prodigy?" "I sort of am. I specialize in multiple areas of surgery. Fetal, peds, gynecology, neuro, and plastics."

It takes Jack a few weeks of begging to get Ben to invite to one of their outings after work. Ben gets Miranda to agree to bring you drinking with everyone.

That night Jack manages to get your number, Ben eventually telling him he couldve just asked him for her number, "But what's the fun in that without the chase."

After a few months you begin dating. And Jack doesnt know how to explain it, but dating you is different than all the other woman hes dated before you. Eventually he figures it's because you're way out of his league, but soon realizes it's because you are different from ever single woman hes dated.

He can see how other men look at you, you're young and successful, and you're hot, what couldn't they want? And normally he'd get jealous but he trusts you with his life. The times he does get jealous or you look like you're getting uncomfortable he'll grab you by your hip and pull you close and he'll refuse to let you go for the rest of the night.

After a few years you get married and he finally knows what it's like to have a family of his own, even if it's just the two of you. You manage to talk him into considering getting a cat. And as much as he hates the idea, and hates how much the cat takes up all of your attention he'd get you another one if you asked.

After being married for two years you find out you're pregnant and at first Jack doesnt know how to feel, he doesnt want to end up like the parents hes never met. But you eventually ease him into the idea and then he couldn't be happier especially when you start to show. He's slightly upset he can't lay his head on your stomach as you watch tv anymore, but he's settled for drawing random shapes on your belly and watching the random movements from your child.

Jack is amazed when hes able to feel the baby kick. He goes as far as feeling it at least once a day minimum, if his hands could permanently stayon your stomach they would.

One day the two of you go separate ways, he heads off to work as you take advantage of your day off and decide to run some errands.

When he gets a call hes talking to Dean about random things like always. When they show up at the scene they get the rundown about the scene. "Three car accident, the last cars brakes failed as they were going down the hill. It rammed into the back of a parked car, that pushed it forward. There was a person walking between the second car and the one in front of it, squishing them." Jack looks at the scene and instantly recognizes your car as the one squished in the middle. Dean does as well and instantly tries to hold Jack back, "Jack you need to calm down." "CALM DOWN! THAT'S MY WIFE AND MY CHILD!" "Hey I get that. But the call says only one person was injured besides the driver." Jack freezes seeing you pop up on the side and start looking at the person stuck between the cars.

Before you realize what's happening you're trapped in two arms, and after a few seconds you realize its Jack from his cologne. You understand immediately what he was thinking and instantly start soothing him, "We're okay. I was inside using the bathroom when it happened okay?" After a few moments Jack's back in action. You get told to stay off to the side because of any fumes that may have been released from the cars. You watch everything happen until the person starts to seize.

You quickly grab a mask and a pair of gloves before climbing over your car and climbing behind the patient. "Y/N get down." "You're pregnant." "That's not safe." "Are any of you a neuro surgeon? This person will continue to seize unless you relieve the pressure in his head, can any of you do burr holes?" When no one answers you continue, "Then I suggest you listen to the pregnant person and get me a drill."

Ben assists you, being the only person with surgical experience, as you do the burr holes. Everyone watches you in amazement as the patient slowly stops to seize as the blood build up is released. You stay behind the person, using your lap as a head rest as they start to move the car off of him. Jack makes you take his jacket when they have to bring out the saw, which gets him scolded at but he could care less, as long as he's keeping you safe. Everyone listens as you talk to the person, keeping him calm. "You two must be married." "What makes you say that?" You laugh when Ben jokes, "Their playful banter?" The guy chuckles as he mindlessly stares at the trees around him, "That's how I was when my wife was pregnant with our first child." You keep the man talking when he sucks in a breath, "How many kids do you have?" "Four. How'd you learn to do that?"

You smile at the man who's referencing to the burr holes you did. "I'm a surgeon at Grey Sloan. Neuro is one of my practices. One of the first things I learned as an intern actually." "Just one of your practices?" You let out a chuckle, "I like working with kids, so I took up pediatrics, then came fetal because why wouldn't a pediatric surgeon know how to fix a baby while it's still in the womb. Then gynecology because I might as well know how to deliver a baby. And finally plastics. Youd be surprised how many kids go through plastic surgery, especially disabled kids." The guy looks at you surprised, the fact that hes literally in a sandwich completely forgotten, "What made you decide to do all that? How'd you manage that?" You chuckle, "Grey Sloan has an amazing program and I jumped at the opportunity. It's sort of what happens when you get told you'd never be able to do something amazing. You prove people wrong and you go above and beyond." "Who told you that?" You let out a chuckle, "An ex actually. My dad wasn't too happy about that one." "What'd he do?" "My mom had to pick him up from jail for smashing every single window on the guys car."

Jack jumps in, "Her moms the one to be scared of though." You let out a laugh as the guy says, "Its always the mom. My wife would murder for our kids." You let out a laugh making the guy smile.

You ride in the ambulance, being one of the only people who'd be able to stabilize the man if he were to start seizing again, and your ride home completely totaled now. When the guy is taken away for surgery Jack bugs Miranda until she agrees to look you over, "Jack I wasnt even in the accident." "You were near it, the fumes and stress cant be good for the baby." Bailey smiles as the two of you go back and forth, "Y/N just lay on the table. You're both stubborn and we'll be here all day if no one stops you two." You give in and lay on the table as she does an ultrasound, the rest of the firehouse watch from the window in amazement as they see the baby on the small screen and they all couldn't be happier that Jack finally got his own family while they also get a niece or nephew, neither of you telling them what you're having just yet.

When the fire station has to leave Miranda is the one who offers to take you home if you're willing to wait for thirty minutes. You make dinner, Jack getting home right on time then you both continue your nights like you usually do. When it's starting to get late you find Jack looking at his laptop, eyebrows furrowed. "What's got you thinking so hard over here?" You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his right shoulder. "Cars? Really?" "We're going to have to replace the one that got totaled today." "Not one with... Military grade metal? Why dont you just look for tanks on sale?" "You think they have room for carseats?" You hit his arm at his joke making him laugh.

You end up going past your due date, so now it's just a waiting game for you both. As Jack is getting ready to go into work, knowing he can't sit still at all, especiallywhen hes so anxious to meet his kid, he finds you in the kitchen hunched over with your eyes closed and face twisted in pain. He immediately starts to rush over but almost slips, he sees the puddle of water on the ground and looks around confused. When he sees the wet spot on your pants it hits him. "When did your water break? We need to get you to the hospital now." You let out a groan when he tries to help you stand up straight, "When you started coming down the stairs."

Jack helps you to the car, before starting to speed his way to the hospital. He calls Sullivan on the way there, "I wont be there today. Y/Ns water broke.... shit. I forgot the hospital bag." You smile in your seat and between breaths say, "It's fine. There's. One in. My locker. Bailey has one. In her. Office. Too."

Jo and Meredith are the ones to see you enter the hospital, both immediately knowing what's happening, "Jo page Carina and get the hospital bag from her locker. I'll take her to the delivery floor."

You're in labor for most of the day, your friends stop by through the day to check on you and give their congratulations. Jack is by your side the whole time, he's a nervous wreck honestly but hes managed to stay calm until you have to start pushing. By dinner time you've welcomed a baby boy, who has very healthy lungs. Your room is filled with balloons from your friends, as you both sit watching the sleeping boy.

Before the night can end you look at the doorway where the firehouse is standing with even more balloons, along with flowers and what smells like stew. "Hey." Dean is the first to push into the room, he quickly hands you the tupperware of stew before turning to his best friend, "Where is my nephew?"

Everyone gives their congratulations as your son is passed around, "What's his name?" Jack immediately says, "Jack jr." You simply roll your eyes and shake your head before looking at the boy who's now in your arms, "Its Jaxon. With an x. Cant let Jack's ego get too big now."

When everyone is gone and it's just your small family in the room you happily lay next to Jack, now able to press your face into his neck without a giant belly in the way. As you're falling asleep you hear Jack say, "Did we really have a baby today?" You smile and kiss his neck, "We became parents today. You became a dad." You chuckle when you hear Jack huff, "That's going to take some time to get used to." "You'll be fine. We have eighteen years to get it right."

[procrastinatorimagines]

Okay

Fandom: One Chicago

Series: Okay

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 (Final)

Characters: Will Halstead x Halstead!Reader x Jay Halstead, eventual Casey x Reader

Warning/s: kidnapping, assault, drugging, fire, guns

Word Count: 2,542

Request:  If you’re still taking requests can you do a jay x will x sister reader were she ends up getting kidnapped then they save her but she’s badly hurt and they freak out and worry about her when she doesn’t seem like herself please?

Summary: Reader has a comfortable life in Chicago and works a safe job at a library in town, but her life is thrown upside down when she gets kidnapped on her way home from work by people who want revenge against her brother Jay Halstead.

You didn’t really seem to fit the Halstead mould, the your oldest brother, Will, was a doctor, your other older brother, Jay, was a detective, and you, well you were a librarian. Will and Jay hadn’t always been around, Will had gone to New York for his medical degree and Jay had left to fight a war, you didn’t hold any ill will towards them for that, but someone had had to stay in Chicago to take care of your parents, especially when your mom got sick. So that fell to you, the youngest child, which was honestly fine by you, you hadn’t had any big plans for your life anyway, and you enjoyed what you did now... or at least, what you did now was safe and kept a roof over your head.

Your brothers didn’t mind that your job wasn’t heroic, they actually prefered you far away from the front lines, and you couldn’t blame them, there’d been a lot of tragedy for the Halsteads, and you didn’t plan on being the next casualty.

Well, you may not have planned to be, but whoever grabbed you and pulled you into a moving van when you were heading home from your usual week day shift clearly hadn’t gotten that memo. 

One minute everything was normal, the next everything changed.

-

Your attacker wore a mask, and he wasn’t alone, there was at least one other person in the back with you and someone was obviously driving. You tried to kick and scream but they overpowered you, securing your hands and feet. The last thing you remembered before everything went dark was an odd smelling cloth being forced over your mouth.

By the time you woke up your head was pounding and your mouth was dry, your ankles and wrists chafing against the ropes that tied you to a beam in the room you were in, where ever that was. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but as your eyes slowly focused in on your surroundings you noticed a small window on the opposite side of the room you were in, the night sky partially visible through a crack in the newspaper that had been used to cover it up.

This was bad, very bad, you thought, panicking as you tried to desperately to free yourself from your restraints, which actually seemed to do more harm than good. Taking a very shaky breath you tried to focus, breathing in and out of your nose slowly as you though of what Jay might do in this situation. Jay... he’d come for you, with the full force of the Intelligence Unit behind him; it was a comforting thought, and one which enabled you to steady your heart rate enough so that you could hear your own thoughts without it pounding in your ears.

You could see stairs on the otherside of the room leading up, you were definitely in a basement, but there wasn’t much down here besides a broken games table, and a washing machine and dryer that looked like they hadn’t been touched in years - somewhere abandoned maybe? a foreclosed house? God a drug den even? This place clearly didn’t have a white picket fence outside, and the thought of who might be staying here, who might be staying here, who might have taken you, had your mind racing...

The sound of a door opening snapped you out of your thoughts, jumping as someone came stomping down the stairs, phone in hand and paying you no attention. He was a heavy set man, white and maybe middle aged, and you didn’t recognise him from anywhere. His face was uncovered, which was bad, you knew enough to know that if your captures didn’t go to lengths to hide their identity, then you probably weren’t making it out alive to ID them. What you needed was time, you thought as he slid his phone back into his dirty jean pockets.

“Good,” he said, approaching you as you tried to shuffle away, your wrists and ankles burning from the strain, “you’re awake.” He pulled the gag down from your mouth so that it hung around your neck and stepped back again as another man came down the stairs. He looked considerably younger than the first man, but still in his late 20s at least, leaner and with much more hair, but the family resemblance was clear, father and son you guessed. Which meant the third guy was probably a brother, or uncle. 

“You gonna call him now that she’s awake?” The younger one asked, and you had a sinking feeling you knew who they were going to call, your cop brother.

“Yeah,” he dug a phone out of his pocket, but it wasn’t his own, it was yours. “Get her to unlock it.” He passed the phone to his son who approached you, grabbing your hair to make you look at him. 

“What’s the password?” He demanded, giving your hair a rough tug as you struggled in his grasp.

“Go to hell,” you tried, your voice audibly shaking with fear. He let go of your hair and back handed you across the face, your cheek stinging with the contact as he grabbed you again. 

“Try again,” the father said and you nodded, telling him the number combination to unlock the phone, if you were braver you might have held out, but you weren’t trained for this, you were a librarian for God’s sake.

The phone started ringing and your brother’s voice came through on the other end, “hey Y/N, I’ve been worried, you were supposed to come to Molly’s but you didn’t show, everything okay?” You opened your mouth to say something but the son shut you up, the father taking the phone from him as another man came down the stairs, gun in hand, and definitely another son.

“I’m sorry detective, but your sister can’t come to the phone right now, she’s a little tied up,” he said.

“Who the hell is this!?” Jay demanded, “where the hell is my sister!?” 

“Someone who you owe Halstead, you took my son from me, destroyed my family, and now I’m going to do the same to yours,” he said venomously and you swallowed a large lump in your throat, the pit in your stomach growing painfully large.

“If you harm a hair on her head-” Jay began but the man cut him off.

“Do you remember my son detective? You put a bullet in him! You took my Joseph from me, now I’m going to show you what that pain feels like!” He yelled, face going red with rage. The son on the stairs had come down and his father snatched the gun from his hand. “This is only a taste of the pain you put my family through detective.” He pointed the gun and fired, pain shooting through your shoulder and your entire body as you cried out.

“Y/N!” You heard Jay yell frantically, but it was drowned out by your own screams. 

“You’ll never see her again detective, just like I’ll never see my boy and my sons will never see their brother. Just remember Halstead, this is on you.” He grabbed your shoulder and squeezed the wound, making you cry out again. “Goodbye.”

“No, no!-” Jay was cut off as the man hung up, dropping the phone and smashing it beneath his heel. The gag was put back on your mouth, but it wasn’t necessary, your vision was blurring and you passed out from the pain.

-

You were beaten, bruised, bleeding, so groggy that it had taken you a few seconds to realise what had finally pulled you from your unconscious: the room was on fire. That’s right, you thought, your mind still foggy from the beating, and the smoke probably, they’d doused the room in gasoline when they’d left. 

You struggled to move, realising they hadn’t even bothered with your restraints when they left you for dead; it was too hot, you couldn’t breath, could barely think as the flames got closer to you. You tried to crawl to the stairs but you saw that they had collapsed, the wood hadn’t stood a chance once the gasoline was ignited. 

You stayed as close to the floor as you could to breath clean air, not that you could stand up if you tried. Darknessed threatened to overcome your vision as you tried to stay awake, soundlessly screaming for help. There was movement at the top of the stairs, muffled noises, and the last thing you remember before unconsciousness claimed you again was strong hands pulling you out of the flames.

-

They told you that they’d managed to work out who the perp Jay shot was, that they’d found a car that had been reported stollen by someone matching the description of one of the sons outside a gas station leaving town and caught them before they could make their getaway. But by the time they found out where you were, everything was up in flames. 51 had arrived at the scene at the same time as Intelligence, and Ruzek and Atwater had had to hold Jay back as Casey and Stella had come in to get you out. You had minor burns and smoke inhilation, they told you, three broken ribs, a broken ankle, severe bruising and laserations, a deep gash on the back of your head,  and of course, you’d been shot. 

Will had filled you in the best he could after you’d finally woken up. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and you’d needed emergency surgery to save your life. You’d been in and out for a few days after that, when you were awake you were so hopped up on pain medication that you couldn’t tell if you were just dreaming.

But you were fully awake now, and very much aware of the ache in every body in your body, as your brother spoke. You didn’t say much back to him, or Jay, or anyone who came and went, you just felt numb.

You’d grown up knowing all the dangers in the city, in the world, but you’d always been pretty sheltered by your brothers, and to go through what you did... you felt vulnerable, bare, like your world view had been stripped off and you were left seeing the true horrors around you.

“Y/N,” Will said, touching your arm to get your attention. You jumped and he pulled back, face stricken with emotion as he looked at his little sister, God you must have looked as bad as you felt, you thought, turning to face him to show you were at least listening. “We’re going to keep you here a couple more days for observation and then discharge you in the morning okay?” You nodded, “you can go home then, or stay with me or Jay if that’s what you want,” another nod, your eye lids getting heavy again all of a sudden. Will noticed and stood to leave, kissing you on the top of the head. “I love you Y/N, I’m so sorry- it’s going to be okay, I promise, just rest for now.” You knew he meant it, you knew he believed it, but you weren’t sure you believed it too.

-

It’d been a few weeks since the incident, your arm was still in a sling but most of the damage was fading, the external damage anyway. You’d stayed with Jay for most of the first week out before you forced yourself to go home to your apartment, but you still slept with all the lights on. You didn’t know when you were going to stop feeling this powerless, but you’d recently been starting to think that the way to get some control of your own life again was to take charge of something that you could do. You didn’t want to go back to the library, you’d spent the past week shelving books the best you could with one hand, but it felt wrong, you wanted to do something more, something to help people, like you’d been helped when you needed it.

You were meeting your brothers at Molly’s, and you’d finally made up your mind on the way over, you knew what you were going to do to take charge of your life again.

“Hey, there she is!” Jay waved to you from where he sat at the bar and patted a seat next to him, “Will’s just chatting to Maggie he’ll be over in a minute, want a drink?” He was trying to sound normal but you could tell it was strained, he’d been beating himself up for weeks about what had happened to you, blaming himself even though there was nothing he could have done differently, nothing he’d done wrong.

“I’ll just have a water, thanks,” Stella nodded to you from across the bar and went to fetch one as you took your seat.

“You good?” Jay asked, giving you a careful once over.

“I’m good Jay,” you said softly, squeezing his hand as your drink arrived. He opened his mouth to say something else but you shook your head and said more confidently, “I am.”

You could tell he wanted to say more but at that moment Will came over and took a seat on the other side of you. “Hey, glad you made it, I was beginning to think you would show.” He patted your arm, the same concern in his eyes that Jay had. 

“Why would I not? I am the one who asked to talk to you guys you know.” You smiled.

“Uh-huh we know, is everything alright?” Will asked.

“Yeah you said you had something to tell us,” Jay sat up straighter, and both men got very serious. 

“Relax, I’m fine, it’s nothing bad,” you reassured them before continuing, “I know I haven’t really been seeming like myself lately, and I know you guys are worried, but I just needed you to know that you shouldn’t be. I’ve needed some space to think things over, make sense of what happened-” Jay cast his eyes down guiltily and you grabbed his hand again “-and I’ve come to a conclusion, I’ve made a decision about my life that I think will really help me move past this.”

“Oh?” Will said questioningly, “you’re not like, leaving Chicago are you?”

“No, nothing like that,” you said, “I’m quitting the library, not right away, but it’s time I do something else with my life, something more impactful, like you guys.” Jay and Will shared a worried look.

“Are you sure? After what happened, don’t you want to be somewhere safe?” Jay asked.

“I was somewhere safe when what happened happened Jay,” you told him, “and I can’t go back and pretend nothing happened, I want to move forward, make a difference,” your voice was confident and steady, “I’m not a kid anymore, this is my decision, I’ve given it a lot of thought and I know it’s the right one.”

“Okay,” Will conceded but Jay still shook his head.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, “what, cop?”

“Doctor?” Will followed on.

“No,” you shook your head and smiled, “I’m gonna become a firefighter.”