#appointment. which in turn makes me afraid i’m gonna be treated like oh you just have a little dysthymia

[dagasinfilo]

i am so goddamn scared i’m never gonna be able to get the help i need. and doctors see this and refuse to acknowledge it’s from an observation of my reality rather than the pathology itself. which obviously makes their care ineffective. which keeps feeding the fear that i’m never getting help. and the hospital taking longer and longer and longer to give me a psychiatrist appointment obviously gets me even worse.

[sinner-as-saint]

I Did Something Bad - 1.

Bodyguard!Stucky x Reader AU

Part 2 <<

Run-through: You’re a rich spoilt brat, and your two bodyguards are the ones who have to put up with you and your attitude all day every day. Until one day, they’ve had about enough. And they decide to tame the brat in you…

Themes: bratty!reader, smut, daddy kink, bodyguard!stucky

“What a brat.” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“I agree.” Bucky sent a brief nod towards him.

They were both right behind you, each holding your countless shopping bags as they walked the steps which led to the front door of your house.

Correction, your father’s house. You didn’t actually own anything, you were just blessed enough to have been born in a filthy rich family. And you were an only child, so your parents treated you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You were spoilt.

Spoilt like Steve and Bucky had never seen before. You had people to do everything for you. You didn’t even do your own make up or hair in the morning; you had an entire team for that.

Your parents were away most of the time, on business trips and earning more money so you could be even more of a spoilt brat. Given they were away, they had two of the most highly trained, professional bodyguards stay with you to ensure your safety – Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.

The two were the best of friends, and initially they didn’t even want to put up with you. But the paychecks which came from your father each month were hefty. So they compromised; put up with your annoying, bratty self just for the salary.

There were other perks of the job. They got to stay in a lavish mansion, they got to travel everywhere, enjoy the finest things in life, along with you.

 “Uh, can one of you guys come help me?” came the sound of your voice from inside your bedroom. The two men who were outside your bedroom groaned quietly.

They shared a look and opened the door to your grand bedroom and stepped in. They always envied you, and all the nice things you had without even having work a day in your life. They both looked around, looking for you in the spacious bedroom.

You stepped out of the walk-in closet wearing a black, lace bodysuit – showing off your cleavage and your legs.

The two men’s eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

Oh another perk to the job, you were smoking hot. And that almost made up for your attitude that they had to put up with at times, because who wouldn’t like a doll parading around them all the time?  

You walked up till you stood in front of them, nonchalantly checking out the new rings and jewelry you had on, which you had bought earlier. Not caring about the fact that you were semi-naked in front of the two.

“Can one of you zip me up?” you spoke, without looking up.

And it took both of them a few seconds to process everything. They shared a look again, filthy things on both their minds.

“I’ll do it.” Steve spoke up before Bucky could even open his mouth and offer to help. The latter glared at his friend. Steve walked up behind you, and gently pushed all your hair out of the way and shifting it over your shoulder while he shamelessly let his eyes roam over your semi-exposed body.

He took his sweet time to find the zipper and closing it gently, letting his fingertips lightly caress your skin. He admired the shape of your body once he was done, Bucky did the same. You walked away from Steve, not even thanking him and went on to admire yourself in the mirror.

The two men couldn’t take their eyes off you as you posed in front of the mirror, checking yourself out and clicking pictures here and there.

“I want a green smoothie.” You said, to no one in particular. But neither of them heard because they were busy checking you out. And seeing they weren’t moving you turned around and faced them. “Hello? I said I want green smoothie.” You said, as usual, in that bratty voice of yours. You had absolutely no patience, you were a total brat.

But that didn’t matter right now. Not when you looked like that; beautiful and enticing, but so out of their league.

Bucky cleared his throat and peeled his eyes off you. “Steve will get it. Someone has to stay here with you.” He made the decision without even sparing Steve a look.

And poor Steve had to agree and leave the room. While Bucky stayed in your room and enjoyed the show as you tried on all the clothes and lingerie you bought earlier today.

 You caught Bucky staring at you through the mirror and you internally smirked. You considered yourself lucky that the two bodyguards your dad had appointed were both eye candy. All your friends drooled over both of them; you included.

How could you not? They were always so… hot. Black suits, dark sunglasses whenever you were out, broody and handsome; they could make any one’s heart flutter. You knew how the brat in you annoyed them, but you couldn’t help it. You liked the look on their faces when they realize that they can’t do otherwise but obey you.

 Steve returned with your smoothie and you took it, again without thanking him. He noticed you were in another bodysuit, nude colored this time and much more flimsy. He discretely sent a questioning look towards Bucky and the latter smirked and raised his eyebrow at him. As if boasting and saying, ‘yup, I helped her with that one.’

 “I’m going to the club later tonight.” You announced and the two men almost groaned out loud.

You were a true party animal. And Steve and Bucky hated your useless, equally as spoilt, friends. Each time you went clubbing, they always had to carry you home because you cannot handle alcohol for too long. And the worst part, they’d have to deal with your hungover self the next day.

Steve couldn’t help but point out. “This is the fifth time in the past three weeks. Are you sure you should be partying so much?” he sounded like he was done with you, but was still trying to be polite because you were still his boss’ daughter.

Bucky nodded, agreeing with his friend. And you frowned at both of them.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but do I pay you to lecture me?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, your action accentuating your breasts.

Steve looked down at the ground, afraid he might have been staring at your chest for too long. “No ma’am.” He replied, hands in front of him – standing in a classic bodyguard pose.

You scoffed, giving them both a look which told them not to mess with you. “Good. We leave at ten thirty.” You announced and walked back into your walk-in closet.

 -

As predicted, you were wasted within the first three hours of being at the club. And just like always, Steve and Bucky had to carry you out and bring you home.

Luckily you didn’t throw up on the sidewalk or in the car this time. Your driver drove all of you home, and Bucky had you on his lap in the backseat, your feet on Steve’s lap. You were blacked out.

“She looks so angelic when she sleeps.” Steve commented, quietly.

Bucky chuckled. “Wait till she wakes up tomorrow and makes everyone’s life a living hell.” Bucky said, remembering the last time you were hungover and how you had him, Steve, your housekeeper, maids and chefs, all run around like headless chickens.

Steve chuckled at the same memory. “I swear if she treats us as her slaves like last time, I’m gonna quit.”

Bucky sent a look towards his friend. “Please don’t, I can’t handle her on my own.” He pretended to shiver at the thought of him having to put up with your antics all on his own.

And the two men shared a laugh.

 They put you to bed once you all made it home. They placed you under the covers, the maid took off your shoes and most of your jewelry, took out the pins in your hair and turned the lights off before they stepped out of your room.

---

The next day, the minute they each woke up in their rooms, they heard your loud voice coming from upstairs. And they both groaned as they got ready for the day.

Steve was out of his room and on his way to you first. Bucky came shortly after. And they found you in bed, whining about having a terrible headache.

“Do you need painkillers?” Bucky asked and you glared at him.

“I already took them.” you spat at him.

Clearly you were going to be even more of a bitch today.

“Did you have breakfast?” Steve asked, standing at the end of your bed.

You groaned.

“The thought of food makes me want to throw up.” You whined, testing his patience already.

Steve sighed. “Look, you need to eat. It’s the only way you’ll get rid of the hangover-,”

You cut him off.

“Ugh, okay mom!” you mocked. “Fine, whatever, just get out.” You said rather rudely. And while Steve was still debating what to say to you, Bucky spoke up.

He stepped up closer to you, standing by the side of your bed. “Hey, easy. We’re just trying to help. You need to eat so y-,”

You cut him off as well. “Like I said before, I don’t pay you to lecture me, why do you even-,” you were going off but this time Steve cut you off.

“Enough!” he raised his voice, and both you and Bucky turned to look at him. He had never acted like this before. You could see the irritation on his face as he stared at you.

“You don’t pay us, first of all, your father does! You don’t do anything other than sit there and be a brat and spend his money! We technically don’t work for you, we work for him. So let us do our jobs, which is to take care of his spoilt daughter who has no manners whatsoever. His daughter who treats people like slaves! People who actually care about her more than her own parents do!” He spat, making your jaw drop.

He continued, less loudly this time. “For once, drop your attitude and do as we say. Get in the shower, and then come downstairs. Breakfast will be ready by then.” He looked at you dead in the eyes while he scolded you. “Move, now!” the authority in his voice had you scram out of bed and rush into the bathroom immediately.

Once you shut the bathroom door behind you, Bucky turned to Steve and extended his arm so they could do their secret handshake.

“What was that?” he asked, clearly impressed.

Steve smirked. “Just taming the brat.” He answered.

Bucky laughed. “What if she tells her dad and gets us both fired?” he asked.

Steve knew you would never tell your dad because you would be somewhat ashamed in saying you got blacked out drunk at the club and then were rude to people afterwards. “She won’t.” he said and they both made their way out and into the kitchen.

 Breakfast was ready by the time you came downstairs, rather sheepishly. You kept your eyes to the ground as you sat at the kitchen island. Surprisingly, you waited patiently for your breakfast.

Bucky took the plate and placed it in front of you. Baked beans, hash browns, eggs, toast – not your usual breakfast because you normally had sugary cereal in the morning.

You sighed rather loudly, frowned and began complaining, “But this is n-,”

Bucky cut you off by grabbing your chin gently and tilting your head up so you looked up at him. He didn’t even think twice before touching your face, but you didn’t mind it. At all.

You looked up into his ocean blue eyes, very similar to Steve’s.

“A big breakfast will help, trust me. And it’s better than that bowl of sugar you’re used to.” He said, cracking a faint smile. You shyly returned him a smile. “Eat.” He pointed at the plate and went to find Steve in the living room.

 -

You were pretty quiet for the rest of the morning. Quiet as in, you weren’t throwing a fit when the meal that the chef made for you wasn’t what you wanted. Or you weren’t whining about how you hate everyone in this house. Or you weren’t being a bitch to absolutely everyone you saw because you were hungover.

You spent most of the day in your room, sulking. Mainly because you weren’t used to people talking in loud voices at you. Steve and Bucky came to check up on you a few times, asked you if there’s anywhere you need to go. But you said no each time. You barely spoke to them, at least you weren’t rude.

 You were tame – but it didn’t last for long.

-

The next day, you were back to being a brat. Once the hangover passed, you were just as loud and rude as before. You were even rude to Bucky – all your manners from the previous day forgotten – when he came to ask you what you wanted for breakfast.

“Is there a way to ever get a straight answer out of you for once, without you being sarcastic and bratty all the time?” he asked, wishing you were back to yesterday when you were all quiet and obedient.

You scoffed and got out of bed. “You or Steve yell at me one more time, and I will call dad and have both of you fired. You hear me?” you spat at him.

And he wanted to tell you off, like Steve did, but then he took one look at your appearance. Messy hair, your reading glasses on, an oversized white shirt – no pants. You looked too adorable to scold. So he let you go.

 You tested Steve’s patience too that day. As usual, people ran your errands and Steve brought you something that you had asked for and you took it without thanking him.

“Will a ‘thank you’ hurt?” he asked.

You glared at him.

“Stop it. You’re not my mom.” You said bitterly and he groaned and walked away.

-

This had been their daily lives for the past year and a half. And each day they thought there was no way you could out do yourself and be any more of a brat. Yet, each day you kept surprising them with how annoying you could be to deal with.

Then one day, you truly out did yourself.

You were nowhere to be found.

 “This is it, I’m calling her dad.” Steve took out his phone but Bucky stopped him.

“She’s our responsibility, calling her dad would be equivalent to digging our own graves. Don’t.” Bucky reasoned. He couldn’t even imagine calling a parent to tell them their child has gone missing.

They were both panicking. You had snuck out earlier in the afternoon, and it was now nighttime and you still weren’t back. The two were pacing around the living room.

“I don’t get it, usually she tells us before even going outside in the yard.” Bucky was trying to figure out what must’ve gone wrong.

Steve sighed, ready to punch something out of frustration. “She acts like such a child sometimes. Can’t even track her phone because she left it here.” He shook his head.

“It’s nearly midnight Steve, she should be back by now. We need to do something. Did you get anything from the camera footage?” Bucky was worried sick – both about your safety and his job.

Steve swore under his breath. “Nothing on there. I mean we don’t even know if she went out on her own or got kidnapped or some-,”

A voice cut him off.

“Chill moms, I’m fine.” You walked into the living room with a smirk on. And the two men looked at you like they were witnessing some miracle. Bucky was relieved, yet somewhat irritated. Steve was just angry.

“Where the hell have you been? You were missing for 8 hours!” Bucky asked, the smug look on your face was beginning to piss him off.

You didn’t bother answering, you walked right past them and into the kitchen. The two, now irritated, followed you.

“Answer, god damn it! Where have you been? We were worried sick!” Steve hissed.

You took a water bottle out of the fridge and took a long sip while looking at them both with nothing but cockiness in your eyes.

“Well good news, I was so annoying and bratty that the kidnappers dropped me right back home.” You fake smiled, obviously being sarcastic and walked out of the kitchen. You heard the two groaned as you left them in the kitchen.

 You rushed upstairs and went right into your bedroom, and not even a few seconds later – they both walked into your room very angrily and without even bothering to knock first.

You sighed. “Get out. I’m tired, I need to sleep.” You spoke, without looking up at them.

“I don’t think so. Now answer me, where the fuck have you been?” Bucky asked, clearly mad.

You chuckled. “Watch your tone with me.” You sassed.

Steve stepped forward and walked right up to you. He stood closer to you than usual, invading your personal space. But you didn’t mind it one bit.

“Or what, huh?” he asked, sliding his hand into your hair gently, tugging on it a little making your head tilt back so you looked up at him.

You were speechless as you looked up into his ocean blue eyes. Mainly because you weren’t expecting this, but also because the look on his face sent a tingle dancing down your spine, and ended right at your core. Definitely not a bad tingle.

When you recovered, you were about to lift your hand up and slap his hand away from you but then you realized that Bucky was behind you, locking your wrists in his grip behind your back.

“Let’s try that again, sweetheart. Where have you been?” Bucky whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear and making you shiver.

You looked up at Steve, immobilized and not hating it. “I… I was out with my girlfriends.” You confessed and almost whimpered when bucky tightened his grip around your wrists.

“And what did we say about sneaking out, or going anywhere without informing us?” Steve asked. You believed it might have been your imagination, but it felt as though he leaned in a little, bringing his face closer to yours.

It took you a few seconds to process given the proximity of the two men was interrupting your ability to think straight. “You… you said it was against the rules.” You remember that long talk you had with both of them the day they joined. When they took the time to explain the rules to you but all you did was roll your eyes at them and sigh.

Bucky chuckled darkly right in your ear. “Seems you have broken an important rule, sweetheart.” He gently kissed the skin beneath your ear and your eyes flew shut. Your lips parted as you tried hard not to moan at the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

When you opened your eyes, you found Steve smirking down at you. He felt a rush course through him and leaned in to gently take your lower lip between his teeth; tugging on it playfully. His actions were gentle, but you shivered still. Steve bit down on your lip, while Bucky discretely kissed down your neck.

Then and there, something shifted in the air. It was a pleasant shift.

Steve chuckled against your mouth. “You never learn, babygirl.” he mumbled, against the side of your mouth. And the nickname had you almost whimpering.

Bucky softly nibbled on your skin at your shoulder; making you shudder. Steve tugged a little more on your hair and pulled away to look at you. If there’s anything you knew for sure in that moment, is that you wanted them. Both of them. Bad.

“Teach me then.” You whispered. And both of them smirked and shared a look.

If only you had been careful about what you wished for…

 You were kneeling on your bed, naked and with Bucky still holding your wrists behind your back. His grip was tight and strong, but you didn’t complain. You couldn’t because Steve had his two fingers gently pumping in and out of your mouth.

He had searched your bedside table a few minutes ago, and pulled out the vibrator wand which you had hidden in there. You wondered how he knew it was there. But before you could think over it too much, he turned it on and placed it in between your legs; right on top of your entrance.

You whined in pleasure, but he quickly shut you up by pushing his fingers past your lips. “Always whining like a brat.” He commented, smirking and wiggling the wand a little and making you whine louder. And to add on to your sweet torture, Bucky circled his arm around you and gently circled your clit with his two fingers.

“What is it babygirl, you can’t take it?” Steve taunted again.

You whimpered under their touch, but something told you that they wouldn’t let you have your way so easily this time.

“I know you’ve never heard ‘no’ in your life, sweetheart. But you will tonight.” Bucky murmured in your ear, making you tilt your head back; shivering against him.

Steve chuckled, removing his fingers from your warm mouth. “You’re not allowed to cum until you have our permission, babygirl. You hear me?”

You nodded and whimpered a pathetic yes.

Your thighs began trembling as they both messed with you. Steve changed the setting on the wand, making it more intense while Bucky tilted your head back and kissed you deeply. More like invaded your mouth like he owned it; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You whimpered, happily trapped between the two of them.

You felt the pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Steve noticed, and he didn’t think twice before lifting the vibrator off you – denying you your release.

You groaned louder, the sound muffled by Bucky’s mouth on top of yours. He pulled away from the kiss and chuckled. “It’s frustrating, isn’t it baby?” he asked, softly. You looked up at him and nodded. His soft demeanor went away the minute you agreed. “Well that’s exactly how it feels when you don’t listen.” He growled leaning in again. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but instead he licked your swollen lower lip and spat into your open mouth.

His actions elicited a loud whine out of you.

“Look at me.” Steve slid his hands into your hair again and tugged on it. You looked at him with nothing but desire in your eyes. He let go of your hair and gripped your jaw while he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, a familiar warmth washing over you while you stared into his icy blue eyes.

“Always boasting about your family’s money and power, you little brat.” Steve whispered, leaning in to bite your mouth again while he pressed the vibrator further against your core, making you drip and moan louder. “Who’s your daddy now, huh?”

Bucky fingers found your clit again, and they teased you just like before. “Tell us baby, who owns this bratty little cunt?” Bucky whispered menacingly in your ear, biting on your ear lobe.

You moaned again, both at the sensations and the words. “You do…” you breathed out, unable to form coherent sentences. They both chuckled, and continued their sweet torture on your body. Steve kissed along your jaw as he wiggled the wand around and make you scream louder, while Bucky’s fingers rubbed your clit furiously.

And you couldn’t take it anymore. “Can I-… please…” you begged and it was the first time they heard you ask for something so politely.

“What was that, babygirl?” Steve asked, pretending that he didn’t hear you the first time. And seeing you weren’t answering, he lifted the vibrator off you again. “I said, what was that?” he asked again, more sternly.

You whined and whimpered at being denied again. “Please… please can I cum?” you asked again, begging with your eyes shut to stop the tears of frustration from falling.

Bucky immediately wrapped a hand around your throat and tilted your head back. “Ask nicely sweetheart. Say ‘please daddy, I’ll be a good girl from now.’“ he mumbled against the side of your mouth.

Steve increased the intensity of the vibrator again and it made you repeat Bucky’s words wantonly. They were both pleased at your obedience, but not quite done with you yet.

“Look at me, babygirl.” For a moment, Steve’s voice had you fooled. You thought he was actually going to give in and would actually let you cum. “You want to cum for daddy?” he asked, and you nodded with hot tears falling down your cheeks. And just when you thought you were getting closer to your release, he lifted the wand off your body again.

“No. You will not cum until you’ve learnt your lesson.”

 They both toyed with your body like they owned it. They switched places and Bucky had the most fun in teasing you with the vibrator. He trailed it up and down your body, circling your erected nipples with the tip of the wand and then back down to where you craved it the most.

Tears streamed down your face.

“Are you crying, baby? Good, this would teach you not to be a brat next time,” Bucky spoke as he wiggled the toy around against your wet folds.

You begged them relentlessly, but they denied you each time. Looking you deep in the eyes and saying, ‘No.’ Yet, a twisted part of you liked how they treated you like they owned you. Like you were nothing but a toy to them, for them to play with as they pleased.

Your pleas were incessant, and wanton. Steve pushed two of his fingers past your entrance while Bucky placed the wand right on your clit – unmoving. Steve’s fingers stroked your walls so slowly that it was almost agonizing.

“Aww you’re dripping all over my hand, babygirl.” He commented, making you squeeze around his fingers. Your arousal leaked out of you, coating the tip of the toy and his fingers alike. He could see what they were both doing to you, and he liked the control they both had over you. “Look at how you’re shaking.” He taunted again.

You begged again, to no one in particular. And the reply was just as disappointing as earlier. “No. Spoilt brats with no manners don’t get to cum so easily.”

And you whined again.

“Shh, you’re gonna take all that we give you. And you’re not gonna be a brat about it, you understand?” Steve silenced you.

Bucky gripped your jaw and kissed you deeply again, swallowing your pathetic moans while he pressed the wand further against you. Your body trembled, you moaned as soon as the vibrating tip came in contact with your sensitive spot. Your body shuddered as he wiggled it around just a bit. The sensation was overwhelming.

“Do you want us to stop, babygirl?” Steve mumbled in your ear, his fingers slipping in and out of you and the wet sounds were obscene.

You shook your head and Bucky pulled away to let you talk. “No, no please… don’t stop…” the last thing you wanted was for them to leave you here, frustrated and burning with desire.

 Unfortunately, that’s exactly what they did.

“Well guess what, sweetheart? You don’t get to make the rules this time. You can’t always have what you want.” Bucky smirked as he lifted off the wand from you and turned it off.

Steve chuckled and kissed your neck, releasing your sore wrists. “Good night, babygirl.” They both stood up from your bed, leaving you naked, whimpering, and tear-stained, burning with need and most of all; dripping wet.

Your body was worn out, after being with them for the past hour or two. Or maybe more, you couldn’t tell because you were a little disoriented. But you couldn’t believe that they were just walking away from you, without giving you what you so desperately wanted.

“And don’t you dare touch yourself.” Bucky said, before he walked out of your room.

Steve took a good look at you; what a beautiful mess he and Bucky had made. “See you tomorrow.” He winked before he shut the door behind him.

 ---

a/n: fear not, there’s a part 2 coming soon ;)

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[fallingoverharrypotter]

Torn a New One

This is based on the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt for pretend, and got very long. Heres the ao3 link :).

The shirt is supposed to make Harry look like that one Bratz doll meme; you know the one. 

Thanks for reading <3 <3

Harry is a stoic man. That’s what Hermione calls him.

He’s sitting on Ron’s plush carpeted floors in his shiny new flat. Ron himself is passed out on a couch that costs more galleons than a year of Hermione’s tuition, with Hermione herself teetering on the edge of both her couch and hers and Ron’s refusal to bring up that they’re still fucking on the side of their tumultuous breakup. She brings up Harry’s problems to distract herself, and Harry tells her not to bother. Harry also tells her that she and Ron should just own up to their idiocy and sort their crap out sooner rather than later, and then Hermione yells loud enough to wake Ron with: Harry James Potter, you’re a complete and utter hypocrite. Ron does wake up when their voices raise like this, and then cordons Hermione off to the main bedroom leaving Harry to pretend that he’ll floo home, before the three of them end up eating cereal whilst sitting at/on Ron’s granite countertops the next morning.

All three look a right picture. Hermione is staunchly refusing to acknowledge that she’s wearing a t-shirt of Ron’s – old Canon’s merch that she’s absolutely swimming in. Harry, in solidarity, is also wearing one of Ron’s shirts without pants – the newest Wheezes rollout collection, classic stylized lettering (Ron’s got this beautiful flat because every single Witch and Wizard between the ages of 14 and 37 owns Wheezes now). And Ron himself is shirtless and in nothing but underwear.

They’ve seen more of each other than is completely normal over the last 15 years, but they’re still indulgent enough not to bring up any of the shit they refuse to talk about. They need a balancing force, Harry often thinks, someone who is outrightly honest and refuses the stupid little games that the golden trio fall into to avoid talking about their true feelings. That’s what Harry thinks inside his head, but his body ends up groaning and bending forward so his forehead smacks the countertops none too gently. His consciousness sounds more and more like someone he refuses to think about whenever he’s been drinking. Merlin save him.

“Oi,” Ron admonishes without looking up from his bowl. He’s leaning atop the counter on forearms and staring into his cereal, swirling the spoon around the stodgy mess and eating no longer.

Harry grunts first, and then says “gonna sick up, Ronnykins?” and gets glared at by Hermione who is onto her third bowl of cereal at this point. Right. Can’t joke about Lavender either, apparently. That fling definitely didn’t help the dynamic, Harry reminds himself.

“Jus’ don’t wan’ you bruising my bench with your fat head.”

Harry kicks out at Ron with his closest foot and makes contact, gets an immediate groan for his efforts, before Ron’s pulling up from his slouch and getting Harry into a pretty tight headlock. Harry resorts to elbowing Ron in the gut over and over. Ron groans and releases, making a mad dash for the fancy powder room into which he projectiles.

Hermione, for all she looks dazed and noncommittal this early into a hangover, manages to give off an air of created aloofness about the violent noises coming from down the hall. Harry smirks at her, and gets his own kick in response that makes him exclaim “ow, fuck. You two are so bloody violent.”

Before she responds, there’s a tapping at the window. Owl. Hermione stares at Harry to let him know that there’s no way she’s moving from her lounging for the bloody post, so Harry straightens up to open the window for the tawny. Efficient things these post owls are this morning; just drops the paper on the countertop near Harry’s bowl before flying right out the window without even waiting for a treat.

Harry’s shaking his head to brush away the last fuzz of the evening with the assistance of the scent of fresh air. Hermione gasps out loud. That makes Harry turn around quick enough for whiplash, and then he wishes fervently for death by sustained head trauma when the figure on the front of the paper, unfurled and sepia, winks right at him.

“Fuck,” Harry says. His gut churns, and then he’s running down the hall, past the occupied powder room to Ron’s master bath, and vomits up his guts.

 ***

Ron’s back in the kitchen by the time that Harry stumbles back in. Three strong cups of tea are quick-brewing under Hermione’s wand, even though both her and Ron’s attention is maintained by the Prophet’s front page. Because that is Draco Malfoy wearing a Wheezes “I shagged Harry Potter and all I got was this stupid shirt” collectable.

“It’s ironic!” Ron and George had insisted on its’ inception 4 years back. Only 100 had been made, a necessity: scarcity is key. They resell for a lot of money these days. Harry would rather die than see another in person. His face, a terrible photo of him caught by photographers during a pretty brutal night out, is plastered right on the middle along with stylized fireworks that go off every couple of minutes. He’d been convinced into making them, to try and control the narrative or whatever bullshit the Weasley’s had spouted just a couple of days beforehand when Harry had started stomping around the burrow or the floor of the joke shop or Hermione and Ron’s old shoebox apartment in anguish. It worked, he guesses, and he doesn’t see many of them anymore, as they’re kept in the strongest of imperturbable charms and modified protegos by anyone lucky enough to get one. But this one. This one he didn’t know about.

Hermione’s been muttering to herself as she read the accompanying story, when her voice perks up. “Merlin, listen to this: ‘this intrepid reporter asked what I’m certain all our readership will be most curious to uncover now that we are sitting down with the one and only Draco Malfoy. When we had sat down in Mr. Malfoy’s beautifully appointed drawing room, I too was especially shocked at his choice of attire,’” Hermione pauses here to roll her eyes and mutter “oh here we go,” before continuing in a higher and haughtier voice. “‘We all know the poise that Mr. Malfoy holds, one of Wizarding Britain’s most darling Stars, his performance in Wizarding Wireless serials having taken our world by storm the past 6 years. I must myself mention the serialisation of the modern take on the Wizarding classic story of Millicent Mimbletonia’s Marvelous Manor; captured this reporter’s heart, it did.’ What a load of absolute nonsense.”

“Oh, come on, Herm,” Ron says and knocks into her arm to get her to continue the story.

“Fine, but this is all absolute tripe. What was Draco thinking! Okay. Blah blah blah, you can’t believe how long this person goes on about Draco’s drawing room, blah. Okay here. ‘On questioning Mr. Malfoy’s choice to wear the now famously collectible Wheezes’ Harry Potter shirt, the gentleman seems to look slightly pensive.’

“‘‘Monsieur,’ our Star addresses me, ‘when you have been in the business of telling stories for as long as I, you start to have a great fondness for truth. I must now admit to you, and all of your lovely readers, that I bought this shirt on release and whilst under Polyjuice’. Now readers, you must bear with Mr. Malfoy here. Yours truly was very shocked-’ Good God, can this man obfuscate. Okay, then Draco says, ‘‘I’ve kept my ownership of such an item close to my chest, and away from my closest relationships. I have found over the years that true mutual affection, friendship, and love, have foundations built on beds of uncertainty and trust simultaneously, and thus I was afraid to expose myself.’ I but in here and ask what we must all be thinking at this admission: is he such a big fan of our Saviour that he is ashamed? But Mr. Malfoy continues: ‘No, monsieur. In all honesty, I am the man’s biggest critic.’’” Harry ducks his head, his hands shaking as he reaches for the now over-brewed tea.

Hermione looks up at Harry and Ron with wide eyes. Ron looks back at her wide eyed too, glancing small looks at Harry every now and again when he finds something particularly salacious, but he says nothing. Harry is hiding his trembling hands and trembling mouth behind a blisteringly hot cup of tea. She receives no objections, and continues. “‘‘I am livid that he’s been out of the public eye for so long regardless of his exceptional ability to bring about change in those around him; Potter has worked the same archival job in the Ministry for 5 years, with no end in sight, I fear. He refuses to allow those outside of his closest friends and family to know him in any sense, and I would argue that this is truly detrimental to his relationship with the Wizarding community. Although I disagree with the man on many things, I will be the first to say here and now that if any person deserves privacy, it is him. But the relationships we build with those we love-’’” and Harry snatches the paper out of Hermione’s hands.

“Harry,” Ron starts, reaching out a hand and grasping his upper arm. Hermione too has hopped down off the counter and is crowding Harry’s other side. He wants to shake them off, but he can’t. He can’t stop looking at the paper in his hands with Draco’s figure. Draco’s white blond head of hair turned beige on paper, his eyes sharp and flirty to readers, his hands restlessly gripping at his shirt. The shirt with Harry’s face.

Harry is a stoic man. Hermione tells him that exactly, Ron tells him that adjacently, and Draco. Draco has said the same thing in so many ways and at so many times that Harry has had it drilled into his head. His eyes are watering now, a little. And he can’t read much more of the article, but he doesn’t really need to. Because Draco will skate around enough of his personal life that it seems as though he’s come clean about something when he’s actually just marketing his next serial; it’s what he does.

This time, though, he’s wearing one of those terrible shirts that almost single-handedly sparked the Wheezes fashion line and bought Ron this apartment, and he’s saying things here that Harry knows are true. Knows are directed right at Harry. Knows because a week ago Harry had walked right out of Draco’s “well-appointed” drawing room, slamming the door and not answering the following owls. Harry hasn’t slept at his own sparse flat for a week. He’s spent time at Ron’s, spent time at Hermione’s, spent time at the Burrow. He’s even spent time in the dark halls of Grimmauld, which he hasn’t wanted to touch for years, no matter how many people around him shared their opinions on it being the perfect. Home. One day.

They’re standing there, the three of them, when a knock sounds on Ron’s front door. Harry freezes, but Ron staggers out into the hallway, still in nothing but underwear.

“Sweet Merlin, Weasley, could you put on some bloody pants? You do know it’s ten o’clock?” Says the visitor, and Harry just lets his back go limp, setting out to truly bruise Ron’s beautiful granite countertops with his forehead once again. He can hear Ron sarcastically mumble something along the lines of ‘yes Malfoy, of course you can come in’. Hermione grips his arm slightly in sympathy, but turns to face the entrance to the kitchen anyway. Like a traitor.

“Hermione, lovely as always. I see the three of you are in similar states of distressed undress this morning. Have you finally succumbed to your polyamorous destiny?”

“Nice to see you too, Draco. Lovely article.”

“Thank you. Do you like the shirt, too? Catches a sweet mint in resale these days.”

“You don’t say…”

“Yes, yes. Now, Harry, please pick yourself up off of the place we civilised people prepare our food.”

Harry groans into the cool surface, but can’t stop himself from responding. It’s a natural reaction to the bullshit that comes out of Draco’s mouth most times. “If you’ve ever made a meal by yourself in your life, I’ll eat the countertop.”

“Harry,” his voice is menacing, and his footsteps are getting closer, “I’m not civilised.” And at that Draco grabs Harry by the shoulder and turns up around and back up against the counter top with not a small amount of force.

Harry’s reply comes out breathless from the impact. “You said ‘we’.”

“It was a universal ‘we’.” Draco says this through gritted teeth. His blond eyebrows are sitting right on top of his grey eyes and they scream murder louder than they’ve ever done before, which is saying something since Draco was once a Death Eater, no matter what the admiring general Wizarding public would like to remember.  

Harry doesn’t have a retort prepared, per se. It would be a more concise comment on how Draco hadn’t taken a single English language course his entire life, and what would he know about the universal ‘we’, but Harry meets Draco’s eyes and he’s a bit lost. A week of blanket non-communication. A bit extreme. Not gone longer than a couple of days without talking for years, have they.

“Cuppa, Draco?” That’s from Ron.

“Yes. Two sugars. Level.”

Ron scoffs, but Draco beats him to it. “Weasley it’s two-level sugars, please, for once, reorient your sense of balance before you spill the entire sugar pot into the cup.”

“Just don’t give him any sugar, Ron. He’s obviously already mental, we don’t want him to go into cardiac arrest.” This from Hermione.

“Uh-”

Draco scoffs before Ron can respond. “Settle down Granger. I’m not going to pretend to like black tea for some sense of superiority like some of us.”

“It’s better for your-”

“You know what’s good for your health?” Draco all but yells and spins around to face Ron and Hermione. Ron, still next to naked, and Hermione drowning in Ron’s clothes. She’s back to sitting on the counter, Ron leaning back next to her. They look like they’ve looked for the past 10 years – drawn to each other, allies, et cetera. Draco huffs. “What’s good for your health is you two sitting down and talking about your absolutely bloody insane coupling. What’s good for your health is not getting blackout drunk every Friday night and ending up sleeping with each other, and then not talking about it, until the next week when you can do it again.”

Ron and Hermione are shifting where they sit, Hermione, looking as though she’s getting herself ready to argue back, and Ron in a more protected position behind his ex-girlfriend. Harry feels a little sorry for them, getting the third degree from Draco when he looks as unhinged as he does now. The Harry on his chest, a mess when the photo was taken, is now looking at them disappointedly like he’s on Draco’s side. Like a magical recreation of a Harry who was in quite an intense meltdown at the time has any right to be “on Draco’s side” about any issues of wellbeing.

Hermione does get the strength to pipe up. “Don’t take that tone with us, Draco Malfoy.” But that’s all she can get out. Harry’s pretty sure she’s stumped. Doesn’t have an argument. Draco, Harry knows, has refused to get involved in this situation. Has watched from the side-lines and stewed. Harry’s been all for letting the two of them work their shit out in their own time, but he’s a stoic man, what does he know about all that?

“Don’t take that tone with us, Draco Malfoy,” is Draco’s retort, mocking back in a high-pitched squeak that Harry winces at. Hermione was about to hop off the counter, he could see, but Ron’s sudden arm around her waist kept her down. “You two just have to talk about it. So what if Hermione slept with Lavender? You guys weren’t together at the time!”

Hermione splutters, eyes wide, all thoughts of advancing physically on Draco gone. Ron sat eyes wide too, flicking between Draco and Hermione as if waiting for more.

“Wait-” he starts.

Hermione wails “Ron I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I know. It was such a bad thing to do-”

“No wait! You’ve been acting weird because of that?” And Ron looks incredulously at Harry. Harry sends him an incredulous look back, equally as surprised that Draco hit the nail on the head.

“What! You knew?” Hermione is still wailing.

Ron turns fully to face her and wails himself: “Of course I knew! How could I not know! Harry told me! Draco told me! Lavender told me! Hell, a month ago you got so drunk you told me.”

Hermione’s eyes are so wide that Harry’s afraid she’s going to start crying, and he grabs Draco’s arm in shock. Draco tenses all of a sudden and then Harry consciously remembers why he’s not doing that and shrinks back again. Ron and Hermione aren’t really focusing on anything but themselves now, so they don’t notice how Draco turns slowly back to face Harry, backed against the kitchen’s island like he has been since Draco arrived.

“And you, Harry Potter.” Draco pauses, and Harry has time to do a quick pass over. Draco on the front page of the Daily Prophet and Draco in the middle of Ron’s stylish London flat are two very different Draco’s. Quiet, pensive, charming and loveable Draco in the papers. Thoughtful. Friendly. A bloody myth.

This Draco. Angry, flustered, dishevelled, loud. This is the same Draco who, when Harry slipped up the other week – the week when everything changed – went red, went silent, went unresponsive in so many ways. Harry, fresh off the first love confession he’d ever given, so incredibly off the cuff that it had shocked him and scared him, had had to storm out of the apartment, slam the doors behind him, and apparate away to his own flat he barely spends any time in.

He’d slipped up. They’d never even suggested anything romantic between the two of them. They’d been close for a long time at this point and. Feelings. His feelings. They were supposed to be unspoken. He’d been nursing the growing beast of his feelings behind his stupid chest, which was okay as long as they were unspoken. Pretending every day that they weren’t eating at him alive.

Eating at him when he woke up in Draco’s spare room on more mornings than he’d liked to count, early enough before work that they could sit for breakfasts in Draco’s kitchen. And then Harry’s co-workers at the Ministry archives asking him questions about Draco’s new shows or his schedule or his favourite foods. Draco and Harry having dinner with Ron and Hermione at hole in the wall restaurants in the muggle world. Birthdays together; dinners at Draco’s or Ron’s nicer flats; bickering over anything and everything they could get their minds on.

“You hate my job.”

Harry’s eyes bulge open. Did he mean to say that? Sweet Merlin. It was definitely him, and now Draco is staring at him in confused consternation, as if he has to come to terms now that Harry’s gone insane.

Harry doubles down, though. Trusts his subconscious decisions. “Yeah, you hate my job!” he repeats.

“Are,” Draco starts, slowly, “you kidding me.”

He could respond, but Harry just shakes his head instead.

Harry’s thought Draco’s been properly angry this whole time. He was wrong. “I hate your job? Who doesn’t hate your job!” Draco’s arms reach out and grab tightly around Harry’s upper arms. Harry’s not above flexing, just a little. He tells himself it’s to test the grip, but honestly, he’s hoping to distract Draco from the rage.

“It’s not that bad!” Harry repeats, and Draco groans loudly.

“Not that bad? Are you trying to give me a stress induced ulcer?”

“What do you know about stress induced ulcers?” comes a faint response from Hermione.

Draco turns his head, hands still tight around Harry’s biceps, and says “don’t you two have make-up sex to attend to?”

Harry responds. “Ron’s sick.”

Draco glares back at Harry for a second, and then turns back to where Ron and Hermione haven’t moved. “Get out, you’re distracting him from the fight.”

“We’re the emotional support,” and “lame fight” come respectively from Hermione and Ron.

“Oh, that’s rich!” Draco yells in their direction, but Harry’s sure that he’s ignoring Ron’s comment. “Emotional support! You two have let this wanker,” a thumb thrown at Harry from over Draco’s shoulder, “probably crash on your couches rather than forcing him to face me. You’re all as bad as each other.”

“Draco,” Harry feels he has to say, and draws Draco’s attention from his two best friends who definitely have been letting him crash on their couches and had not once tried to force Harry to face his problems. He loves them a hell of a lot.

“Don’t you try to lessen this, Harry Potter.” Harry’s been on the receiving edge of worse glares from Draco, so this one isn’t that bad. Harry’s actually feeling a lot better now that Draco is in the same room as him. Feels his terrible, traitorous heart almost relax. “I’m sick of you three. You’re the worst bloody enablers for each other.”

Harry scoffs. Sure, they’d never force him to do something he didn’t want to, but it’s not like they agree with his decisions all the time.

Draco hears the scoff of course, and gives up on trying to chase the others out of the kitchen. He turns around towards the entrance, faces away from all of them and talks to himself at top volume. “This is what my life has become. The sole source of constructive criticism for the bloody Golden Trio.”

Ron snorts to cover up a laugh.

“I survive working for a fascist dictator, successfully rebuild my image, forge a new path for myself in the world, but I’m here. An overworked, under-rewarded, glorified therapist!”  

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchange glances. The other two look at Harry in commiseration, but Harry is starting to think that Draco has a bit of a point when he realises that Ron’s arm is still around Hermione’s waist who is leaning right into his side.

“Okay.” Draco takes a deep breath and turns around to face Harry. “Since they’re not leaving, you all get to hear this.” He steps closer. “I hate your job. I hate your flat. I hate that you won’t face up to hard things, and I refuse to be okay with any of that.”

Harry swallows hard.

“People are letting you get away with anything at the moment, and when you told me you loved me, I got scared. Because I thought that I’d become one of those people to you too.”

“That’s not-”

“No.” Draco stops Harry for butting in. “No. We’re not pretending any longer. I love you-” thump goes Harry’s heart in his chest, eyes bulging and smile unable to be stopped “-but sometimes I seriously don’t like you.”

Harry’s smile does dim at that, but only slightly.

Draco looks away at last, his hands on his hips, and starts pacing. “I couldn’t believe-” sharp glance at Harry through the pacing, “-you just left after you said that. I couldn’t believe you’d actually not answer my owls. You’re an absolute coward sometimes.”

“You didn’t say anything…” Harry mumbles.

“Oh,” Draco responds with an eyeroll, still pacing, “so you get to freak out for a week, but I’m not allowed longer than a couple of minutes to compose myself?”

Harry ducks his eyes, ashamed.

Draco hmphs, and pauses in his pacing to look down his nose at Harry. “That’s right. You should feel bad.”

Shirt-Harry shakes his head at real-Har- “God Draco, take the shirt off!”

“What?” Draco is shocked into pausing his restless movement. “Take my shirt off? You haven’t even apologised and want to get me half naked like the rest of you? I think not!”

“That’s not- ugh, forget this.” Harry reaches forward and grabs Draco mid-pace. “Draco.” Deep breath. Harry meets Draco’s eyes. Draco looks like he’s been through his paces. He doesn’t even look angry anymore, he just looks like the culmination of a week of stress. Ron and Hermione are eating dry cereal right out of the box from their perch as they watch, and they both give Harry nods and a thumbs up in encouragement when his eyes stray to them.

He’s a stoic man: Draco and Hermione are right. He hasn’t had to be brave in a long while. This is a moment that’s worth it though, even if he has to fake it at first.

“I’m sorry.” He has to pause at that, because he can feel the emotions bubbling up a bit too high. He takes a deep breath, and makes sure that Draco’s eyes don’t stray. “You’re… you’re right. About a lot of that-”

Draco buts in with “I’m right about all of it, actua-”

“Shut up, do you want me to get this out?”

Draco concedes.

Harry takes another breath, but the nerves have disappeared in the face of Draco’s unfiltered verve. “I shouldn’t have left. I was-”

“A coward.”

“Draco.”

“…sorry.”

“I was. I was a coward. I was scared. You didn’t respond, which never happens. You’re so good with your words.” He has to take a minute to collect his thoughts, but finds the right thread. “I love you, and have done for a while. I ran because I kind of didn’t mean to say it then. We were already fighting about something, and it just came out, which wasn’t right, and sometimes I’m so afraid that things will change, because you’re my best friend-” “Hey!” “-my best friend and I didn’t want to lose that.”

“You should have said that then.”

Harry closes his eyes. God, feelings are so bloody hard. “Yeah, yeah I know.”

“Oh well, as long as you know.”

“Draco. Shut up.” He swallows. “I like my job.”

“No, you don’t. You come home-” a sharp breath “-you come to mine, I mean. You come to mine after work and you can’t stop complaining. We like our jobs. I’m sure when Hermione finishes her ChP and becomes the Minister she’ll love her job too.” (“It’s a PhD, Draco, I’ve told you a million times.” “Maybe another time, Herm.”)

Harry has to breath deeper, because his blood is pumping a bit too fast in his ears. He drops his hands from Draco and takes a couple of steps back. A retreat. “I think,” and he has to swallow a couple of times before he can force the words out of his throat. He looks up and meets all of their eyes. “I don’t think I can do important things anymore. I. I don’t want to- I.”

“Merlin sakes, Harry.” Draco says. “I think it may be time we force you into therapy.” And Draco just looks impatient. “You can’t keep pretending it’s not a problem, and we can’t keep letting you!”

Harry. Harry nods. He thinks he nods. It’s what he wants to do, but he’s not really looking at anyone anymore, eyes to the ground, heart a bit too fast in his chest for comfort. He wishes that he was still eating soggy cereal in the kitchen before the post arrived this morning. He’s a stoic coward.

Draco seems to take a deep breath, and then he turns around to face the others. “Okay, get up. I’m sick of standing in Weasley’s kitchen.”

Harry takes a pause and looks at Draco’s face. He’s perfectly serious, and so is the Harry on his shirt.  Harry’s heart is still racing, but Draco just looks resigned and present. He can’t help himself from smiling a little when his eyes catch on Draco’s. He gets a pretty severe glare in response, before Draco just walks right out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Harry follows, and hears the small grunt from Hermione hitting the ground behind him. Two sets of feet follow his own.

“Don’t forget my tea, Weasley!”

Ron scoffs, but still walks back into the kitchen to make a tea he’d promised about 20 minutes earlier.

Harry sits down on the floor in the same place he sat last night. Draco’s chosen the armchair near the fire; where he usually sits. Hermione stomps over to take the seat on the couch closest to the armchair, and Ron can be heard pottering around the kitchen.

“PhD.”

Draco looks to Hermione with a frown. “What?”

Hermione looks haughty yet contrite. Like she actually can’t help herself from making sure that Draco knows he was wrong, and feels a little bit sorry about it. “It’s a PhD, not a ChP or whatever you called it.”

“Honestly Granger, what does it matter?”

A harrumph from Hermione as she settles back into Ron’s expensive couch cushions. “It’s a very important thing.”

Harry chucks her a grin, and she smiles back proudly.

Draco rolls his eyes. “Why do you all insist on patting yourselves on the back constantly. You don’t see me singing my own praises.”

Ron let’s out a violent laugh from the kitchen, and Draco flushes a little bit, his eyes flicking to Harry who grins at him too.

Mugs float out from the kitchen, Ron trailing behind. Harry grabs his out of the air and cherishes the sent of the strong tea. He can’t help but laugh when Hermione grimaces at the taste of her milkless cup, and Draco looks at her as if he’s won something.

Harry’s won something. He’s won Draco sitting here in Ron’s expensive apartment, Draco rolling his eyes when Hermione chides him about his too sweet tea, then Draco chiding Ron when he argues that Ron made it too sweet anyway, and that if he has to have teeth work done it’ll be Ron’s fault.

“You can make your own tea, you know, you’re not that famous.”

“Actually, Weasley, I’m more famous than all three of you, currently. The only thing getting you through is dumb luck and a gullible consumer base. I get by on pure talent.”

“Sure, Draco.”

“Also, I expect thanks when Wheezes gets the significant boost in sales it’s sure to this week, what with the Prophet this morning.”

“Sure, Draco.”

Harry smiles. His arse will probably start hurting before his mug is drained, and the sounds of arguing will get tiring soon after that. He’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt a little. He takes a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Therapy. I’ll do it.”

Ron and Hermione smile at him like they knew it was coming all along, pressed up against each other on the expensive couches. Draco just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for who knows what. Probably an oral manifesto of Harry’s recognised faults and his plans to change them. Harry just smiles right back at Draco, wide and unashamed. Draco shakes his head a little bit, lips pulling up too.

Harry’s worried that if Draco keeps looking at him at all that he’ll have to walk over there and kiss him without warning. He picks his mug up and keeps sipping though, pretends he doesn’t absolutely need to do just that. Because there’s going to be time. Lots of it.

His stoicism has its uses sometimes, maybe.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The Harbinger.”

It was nice to finally write this piece, and sorry for not posting for the last two days. With my work schedule, weekends for me sometimes fall in the middle of the week. 

Hope you all have a great day!

“This is going to be a disaster.”

Overhead the UN flag snapped in the wind desperately trying to cool their bodies from the beating Sun.

“So you say, but I disagree.” She glanced down at the crew roster in her hands, “The boy really did his research, asked for people specifically, all the way down to the marines. A lot of them crewed the original enterprise. If this were a deck of cards I would say he has a royal flush.”

The other Admiral grunted but didn’t argue with her.

The man had never personally be into space, never even visited mars, so he didn’t pretend to know more than she did, while simultaneously being skeptical. She could deal with that, but at least he respected her enough to have trusted her decision.

Together they stood on the tarmac of the launch field.

The new ship wasn’t there as it had been built completely off-earth at Europa station considering how massive the ship was and how unwieldy the thing would have been in atmosphere. However, someone had taken the time to throw up some projectors, showing the view at Europa station as the last finishing touches were added, and cargo was loaded into her hull.

Across the Tarmac, they watched as Captain Vir stepped from UNSC headquarters and out onto the pavement. If the boy had any more bounce in his step he might as well have been skipping as he made his way up to the lectern and sat just off to the side on a metal folding chair. There were still other speeches to be given, those being the UN president, a few other major officials, and a broadcast by the GA, who were very pleased with their decision despite continuous grumbling by UNSC officers who still thought the boy was going to screw it all up.

The other admiral turned his head to look at her, “just look at him, he’s like a puppy, probably gonna piss all over himself with excitement.”

Admiral Kelly looked over to where he was sitting, on the edge of his folding chair, hands casper before him and one leg bouncing like a jackhammer against the pavement. There WAS something surprisingly doglike about him, “Oh give him a chance. I was just as excited as he was to fly my first mission, the difference was I didn’t show it. You can hardly blame a man for wearing his heart on his sleeve.” “More like smack in the middle of his forehead.”

“Give him a chance.”

He glanced over at her, “You’re fond of him.”

“He makes it easy to be fond of him.” 

The UNp resident finished with his speech and stepped down from the lectern.

“Oh here we go, what is it gonna be, a cheesy joke and a Star Wars reference.”

She glanced at him from over her shoulder, “how do you know about star wars?”

He blushed only slightly, “I have a son who is into that old vintage stuff.”

“Mmmmm Hmmm.” She said pointedly before turning back to Captain Vir as he stood from his seat. She watched as he took a deep breath to calm himself, and then walked slowly up to the lectern his back straight, his expression serious

She smiled as she watched her friend’s eyebrow raise in surprise.

“Just over a year ago I sat in a VA hospital wondering if I was ever going to walk again, Eight months ago, I wondered if I was going to survive, six months ago I wondered if I would ever fully recover, and one week ago I wondered what kind of drugs the brass was smoking to offer me this job.” He smiled slightly as the crowd laughed, “All joking aside, I am privileged and honored to have been chosen. I know there has been a lot of controversy behind my appointment to this position, and Ithink Admiral kelly especially for her faith in me. I am not going to delude myself into thinking I can make any promises about whether or not I will succeed, but I can promise that I will do my best, which is as much as any man can promise considering such uncertain circumstances.”

He glanced down at his papers as the wind tugged at his cap, “As we speak the last cargo is being loaded onto my ship in preparation for our first deployment into the stars. I have thought long and hard in preparation, and for a proper name for the ship that will help usher in a new age of cooperation and companionship between us and extraterrestrial life. Sleepless nights, hours with the Oxford dictionary, and plenty of inappropriate suggestions from family members…” He paused there to allow a light chuckle from the crowd, “Hours and hours of thought and planning,...” he paused smiling ruefully, “I actually found the perfect word while out with my dad searching for new tractor parts. You know how these companies are, they have to make their tractor parts sound really manly or they’re worried we won’t buy them.” There was another slight chuckle from the crowd, “Anyway, the word I found means ‘ something that comes before and that shows what will follow in the future, a herald, a precursor or a forerunner. The word I chose and the name that my ship will take is Harbinger, a herald of things to come, the forerunner of humanity’s expansion into the stars and our alliance with alien races. She will be a harbinger, but a harbinger of good things to come. The crew of the harbinger will uphold all the values and oaths of the UNSC, protect, when others cannot, sacrifice when others will not, and fight when others actively rise against those that we protect.”

He went quiet as the un flag snapped behind him in the breeze.

“I give my soul to this endeavor with every fiber of my being, and I ask for my crew to do the same.”

***

Europa station 1200 hours EST

UNSC identification badges must be worn at all times.

“Now remember, she’s got six main engines, the back one is the most powerful but make sure to use your left and right for maneuvering to keep power. Never fire the warp core andt the engines at the same time unless you want to end up a thousand light years away and by all that is holy try very hard not to initiate that shatter sequence if you can help it.” Europa station director, and lead commander on the build team led him across the open deck and towards the open cargo ramp.

Adam’s eyes were wide, stuck open with awe as they approached the ship. He had seen her only once in her full glory, having asked the shuttle to take a quick tour around the Europa station so he could get a good look at her where she was docked

By all rights she was as aesthetically pleasing as a cinder block, but he thought she was beautiful all the same.

The man pulled him to a halt waving over another figure who had, up till that point, been busy shouting orders to a group of grey jumpsuits people who scrambled to do her bidding.

She stopped yelling at them long enough to turn and walk over.

“Captain, I would like to introduce you to your Chief Engineering officer Narobi. She knows everything there is to know about this ship. If she so much as suspects something might go wrong, you listen to her, no dumbass macho man act, and no blowing her off because she's probably more important than you will be when it comes to keeping this beauty in the air.”

She was tall just an inch or two shorter than him with dark skin and hard brown eyes. She wore one of those grey jumpsuits of the other engineers, but had wrapped a bright orange and red scarf around her head, tied up in a decorative knot. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen though the look on her face made it very clear that she wasn’t the type to hold such things at a high priority. Looking into her cold hard eyes he had no doubt that she was ready and willing to brain him with a pipe if he ever deserved it.

Adam held out a hand to her, “A pleasure to meet you-”

She took his hand, her grip as a calloused vice against his. He hadn’t expected that and grimaced as her fingers crushed his, she leaned in very close, “You see that ship right there, captain.”

He squeaked out a response, suddenly afraid for the safety of his bones.

“That right there, that ship, is mine. You may pilot my ship, and I will even allow you to talk about her like she’s yours, but at the end of the day she is mine. I take care of her, I fix her when she is sick and I keep her in the air. You treat MY ship well and we won’t have any problems.”

She squeezed again just a little harder before letting go, and he took back his hand waving it slightly to disperse the apin, “Got it, she is your baby.” He grinned at her, “Strong grip you have there, though I’d like to keep my hands for flying next time if that’s cool.”

His smile seemed to throw her off guard and she frowned slightly, “I…. I’m sorry I was sort of expecting….”

“Some raging asshole on a power trip….?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s ok, I get it.” he flexed his fingers and waved at her as he was carted off. She stared after him eyes narrowed slightly and a look of confusion on her face .

That boy is either a real idiot or a scapegoat for the UNSC who thinks he’s going to fail

Adam stepped onto the ramp before him and headed up into the interior of the ship wide eyed like a child and bouncing with excitement. When he reached the top of the ramp he looked around watching as men and women hurried to stow cargo and do last minute checkers to see if everything was strapped down.

Turning he found a group of marines standing in one corner receiving orders on how to help. One of the marines turned, and they locked eyes.

The marine’s face was split with a matching grin, and he broke formation to race across the floor. Adam did the same, and by the end they had the entire cargo hold’s attention as they met in an embrace each of them trying to squeeze the life out of the other. Eventually Adam used his superior height to pick up the other marine and spin him around once before setting him down.

“I knew you loved me but I didn’t know it was that much.:”

Adam grinned, “ramirez you son of a bitch. I missed you.”

“I can hardly blame you.” He winked a grin splitting his handsome face, “Last time I saw  you, you were on a shuttle to Anin.” His smile died slightly, “I heard about what happened, I’m sorry to hear….” He glanced down at Adam’s leg before a smile lit up his face again, “On the brightside, you’re a cyborg now, can I see?”

Adam was surprised, not entirely used to people being so bold about wanting to see the prosthetic but, well it made him feel better, and he liked the idea of being a cyborg, so he pulled up his pant leg to give the marine a good look.

“Damn! How far does that go?”

“Buy me dinner and find out.”

The marine looked up, grinned and laughed, “Wow look at you. Not even blushing either you raging prude.”

“I only blush when I’m attracted to people.”

“Ouch, rude.”

Adam grinned and patted Ramirez on the shoulder, “I am glad you took my offer.”

“Glad to receive it. They’ve had me sitting on my ass over at fort Georga for the past year, and man being a marine is a lot less fun when you aren’t out being abducted by aliens.”

“That I can understand. Anyway, I gotta get up to the bridge, but I’ll catch up with you later, alright.”

“Later then.” The marine jogged off and he turned back to see some of the officers staring at him. He just shrugged, smiled and allowed them to lead him up and onto the bridge. The moment he stepped in was like, like nothing he could have ever dreamed. The station was facing towards jupiter, and glowing light from her swirling surface filtered in on the command center seats, and the captain’s chair was placed high above it.

It took every fiber of his being not to jump up and down squealing like a child. Even so he couldnt stop the stupid little dance that led him over to the chair. He could still sense the others staring at him, but he didn’t much care, sliding into the seat and feeling a warm rush of pure joy shooting through him like fire.

He leaned back in his seat.

Then he reached into the little pocket at the front fo his uniform and pulled out the small notebook there.

“Preflight!”

The officers hurried to their stations, and watching them rush at his words sent another thrill through him.

Engines 

Warp core

Crew

Cargo 

He rubbed his hands as they were almost done, “And one last and most important part of the preflight.”

They all turned to look at him, as he scrolled through his downloaded playlist, “You can’t just launch a ship without some epic tunes.  My life didn’t come with a preset soundtrack so I guess I have to make my own.” They stared at him, but he just grinned and turned on his pre picked music selection. It had been difficult to chose, but he had finally made a decision.

The crew shifted almost nervously as they looked back and forth between each other unsure if they wanted to be a crew under this lunatic.

Adam engaged the microphone for the rest of the ship, “Alright Ladies, gentlemen and…. marines , welcome to the Harbinger,  please keep your hands and feet inside the car for the duration of the trip, don’t throw marshmallows at neutron stars and no playing golf out the airlock. Next destination, Andromeda.” He let go of the announcement button and sat back in his seat.

“Harbinger ready for launch in Ten…” He engaged the countdown, and the crew rushed to their positions. He felt the rumbling of the engines as they engaged below him, and took control of the  manual drive as the ankers were disengaged from his ship. There was a sharp thud as they disengaged from the airlock.

He slowly adjusted their rotating engines.

3

2

1

The ships engines fired, and he took control of the ship, gently maneuvering her away from Europa with all the skill and finesse of an eagle riding an updraft.

He pressed the button to call down to the engine room.

“Captain Vir calling for report.”

Nairobi’s voice came over the intercom, “She’s practically singing, Captain.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He let the com drop, “Engage warp core.”

Europa station was already receding into the backdrop against the massive glowing orb of jupiter.”

“How far?”

“Safe warp distance approaching in in ten…”

He flipped up the switch on his chair, and waited for the count.

Their navigator turned to look at him and gave a thumbs up. At that moment he shut off the engines, and flipped the switch for warp following the targeting directory and input.

The entire crew braced themselves for warp, many of them remembering what it had felt like the first time.

Luckily for them it was a long warp, so it wouldn’t be so instantaneous.

Adam’s eyes went wide as he watched the stars bend around them. His teeth flashed white.

He had a good feeling about this.

[elleonmybeloved]

The weather on the day of the competition was perfect, nary a cloud in the sky and a warm fresh smelling breeze blew throughout the city of Mondstadt. Everybody was gathered around the archon statue, in front of which a raised wooden platform has been placed as a makeshift stage. The person in charge of the event is just a person who owns an instrument shop in the city, but the real weight behind regulating the event is the group of knights of Favonius that stand guard in the area and enforce safety as well as the rules of the proceedings. There’s no panel of judges. It’s the audience who chooses the winner by writing the name of the bard who gave their favorite performance and placing it inside a wooden box to be counted by the host.

“Ooh, Paimon can’t wait! When are they gonna start already?” Lumine’s floating companion gives an impatient wiggle. “Oh wait, look, here comes the host now!”

The host steps up on the stage, and after a minute the swelling chatter from the crowd dies down to a murmur.

“Greetings citizens of Mondstadt, and welcome to another battle of the bards! It is my pleasure to announce that we will be treated to fifteen performances today. Each contestant will be performing two songs, one preexisting song of their choice, and one of their own. After they have all given their performances, you, the audience, may cast your vote for whoever most greatly moved your heart with their music.” He gives a break for applause.

“May the anemo archon watch over us all! Let the contest begin!” The host steps down off the stage and the first bard takes his place.

One performance after another, the city fills with music. Some chose upbeat, joyous melodies, others slow and mellow ballads, and even some that take a jazzy tune and encourage clapping and dancing from the audience. Lumine is amused to witness what she guesses is a bard commissioned by Stanley to make a song about him and his famous adventures.

By the end of that song, she and the crowd have already memorized the repetitive words and are joining in to shout-sing the great adventurer’s name.

“Good for him, I guess.”

“Paimon thought this was supposed to be emotionally moving music! Geez.”

“They never specified which emotion.” Lumine points out, but before Paimon can quip back, a hush falls over the crowd again as the next bard comes up.

The lanky teen in bright teal that takes the stage is surely Venti, but his prescence feels so different from what she’s used to. Lumine swallows dryly. He’s the one on stage about to perform, so why is she the one feeling nervous all of a sudden?

Venti begins with the first song- Lion Heart, the one about Venessa, the great hero of Mondstadt. The melody flows like the wind but the sound grows and flares like a fire in a grand way that makes her feel as if she herself has been transported back in time and is standing in the middle of a raging war. His voice is strong and unwavering as he effortlessly tackles difficult notes, and his lyre sounds more like the herald of a trumpet than some little church house harp.

When it’s over, the audience whistles and calls out loudly with applause. The man next to her is exclaiming that he has “-Not heard that classic song so masterfully done in decades!” And Lumine has to agree with the sentiment. He could end it right now and still be the one to go home with the prize.

“Oh wooow, who knew the tone-deaf bard could do that! And to think, Paimon didn’t believe him when he said singing was the only thing he did well.”

“Yeah.” She says, squinting at the stage. Venti is setting down his lyre and is taking... something, up to the stage. It looks a bit like a lute, but it’s curved in swirling angles and with it there’s a... straight bow? Nobody else seems puzzled by this, so she figures it’s an instrument native to Teyvat.

He gets into position and Lumine’s heart begins to pound in her chest. Here it comes!

It starts with a deep, resounding hum in a minor key, tamely going above and below the starting note of the chord. The instrument makes a beautifully layered, rich sound that supports the higher and lighter tone of his voice in such a nice way that she instantly understand why he chose to use this instead of his lyre. The melody begins mysterious, and she strains her ears to make out every word.

Venti tells the tale of a forest, ruled by a bird king, a white dove. His voice flutters like the flapping of wings.

The bird king loves his forest, but invaders keep coming in and threatening it. The kings friend, the lizard, drives off the invaders, but the venom of his attack drips to the ground and poisons the forest, causing all the plants to slowly wither and die. The bird king tries everything, but cannot cure the poison, and resigns himself to die with his beloved forest instead of abandoning it, and becomes poisoned as well.

The deep thrum of the stringed instrument waxes somber.

Then, a star falls from the sky, crashing into his forest with a great flash. To the bird king’s surprise, out from the crash site flows light that purifies the poison in the forest, eventually even himself, and the great lizard. He goes to thank the star, but encounters instead a lake of tears and ash.

The bird king asks the fallen star why it laments so. The star says she has lost her ability to fly, and cannot rejoin her friends that soar the heavens. Not being able to fly sounds like the most painful fate the bird king has ever heard, and his heart is moved to help the fallen star.

Lumine recognizes a theme that resembles her song in this part, and then the instrument and Venti’s voice swirl up to a new sound.

The bird king plucks a feather from his own wing, and plants it in the now purified ground. A flower grows, and from it, he plucks a fruit.

He offers the fruit to the fallen star, telling her it is a magical fruit that can restore her power to fly, but it will cause her much pain. She eats the fruit, and is engulfed in a great flame. From the ashes of the fire, she rises, no longer a fallen star, but a phoenix.

The music soars to a climax, shifting from a minor to major key in the last few notes. Then it’s over, and Venti lowers the instrument to take a bow.

The crowd is silent a moment before erupting into applause. Lumine doesn’t know how to feel. She can’t even begin to unpack the meaning of what she just experienced.

Another bard, the next contestant replaces Venti on the stage. Lumine somehow tunes back into the present.

“-and so before I begin my performance I have something to say.” The woman on stage couldn’t be much older than Lumine. There’s something familiar about her. “Unfortunately the song I was about to play has already been played.”

A confused murmur passes through the crowd.

“I got the idea to write a song about a magic forest after being rescued by some adventurers in the Whispering Woods. I worked really ha-“ Her voice breaks on the word. “Worked really hard on it and I was so excited to show it you all today. But I can’t, because he,”

She is lifting a finger at Venti. “Stole my song.”

The host steps forward with an uneasy expression. “That’s quite the accusation. Do you have any proof, Miss...?

“-Solia. Of course I do.” She says, and hands him her notebook. “Here’s where I wrote it. You can even see the drawing I made of the bird who inspired the Bird King.”

“This... does resemble the white cranes in the Whispering Wood.” He admits. Gasps and whispers come from the crowd. Somebody says they always knew Venti was a thief and several others hear that and murmur to each other.

Lumine cannot believe her ears. She can’t see Venti’s expression from here, and she pushes through the crowd to get closer.

“Is what she is saying true, young man? Please be honest.”

Lumine pushes through to the front just as Venti answers him.

“Uheheh, no. If this is meant to be a jest, I’m afraid I must protest.” He just looks really confused. “It’s not that funny.”

“Liar!” Solia cries. “It’s my song!”

Lumine realizes where she’s seen this woman before. Sitting at the base of a windmill, writing in a notebook, a week and a half ago.

“Actually, it’s my song.”

The host looks even more confused as Lumine climbs into the stage and strides over to stand in between Solia and Venti.

“And by that I mean, he wrote it for me while you sat underneath him by the windmill and copied what you heard word for word.”

“Uh, who are you?” Solia is thrown off beat by the exposure, face flushing rapidly. “His -his girlfriend?”

“Enough of this.” The host insists. One of the knights of Favonius is saying something to him. “This young lady is an honorary knight, appointed by Acting Grand Master Jean herself. Miss Solia, if you don’t intend to play your songs, please exit the stage.”

“Huh? But-“ Solia splutters through several half formed protests, but the knight steps towards her and she raises her hands. “I-I’m going.”

Lumine turns to Venti. He looks dazed, like he still can’t believe what happened. “Come on Venti.” She grabs his hand and pulls him with her off stage. “Let’s go.”

They’re a block away before she stops. She is still holding his hand.

She’s at a loss for words. “I can’t believe she did that.”

“It’s okay, Lumine.” He’s already soothing her. “I’m not angry! Eheh... but wow, I should’ve been more careful. I hope it didn’t ruin the song for you.”

“No, not at all!” She shakes her head vehemently, clasping both his hands in hers now. “It was really good. I was really moved. You were so good!”

“Hehe. Thanks.” He’s looking at her grip on his hands.

Lumine realizes and drops them like she’s been burned.

Venti retrieves them and presses one against his cheek and rubs against it.

The question she was about to ask sputters out at the bold gesture.

“You’re so cute.” He croons, and tugs her closer to him. His blue eyes shine with mischief and happiness. “Wanna play a game?”

“Play a- uh yeah, okay!”

“Close your eyes. Open em and you lose~!”

The way he is petting her is very distracting. Lumine closes her eyes and hopes she doesn’t look dumb. She can feel his breath on her face. Her heart lurches in anticipation.

“...”

She cracks an eye open, wondering what’s going on.

“Hey! Come on, you didn’t even last ten seconds!” He complains. “I’m good at this but I’m not that fast.”

The long parts of her hair are in his hands, one side half braided. She realizes he is giving her the same style as him.

“Oh sorry.” She says, and closes her eyes at his pointed look. Lumine holds very still. She feels repetitive little tugs at her hair one side, then the other. Is he finished? Feels like it.

“We match.” His voice is very close.

Pressure pulls her head forward by the braids in a gentle motion. And then there’s a swell of warmth as soft lips press firm against hers and a hand presses against the small of her back.

Lumine was sufficiently fooled into not expecting it, and a chorus of butterflies rise in her stomach as Venti pulls back and kisses her again.

Elation fills her at the confirmed prospect of his feelings and her cautiously withheld affection for him breaks free. Lumine presses a hand to the back of Venti’s neck to bring their lips even closer together.

They take turns swapping sweet kisses until they are both breathless and love-drunk. Venti isn’t there to hear himself win first place.

[sserpente]

A/N: Random idea. Very fluffy. A little awkward… probably what would actually happen if you took Loki to a thermal bath spa when you are seriously crushing on him… enjoy! ;-)

Words: 4087 Warnings: a lot of fluff, sexual themes, implied smut

Birthdays were special—or at least, they should be. For the last decade, however, your own reflection in the mirror had been the only one wishing you a happy birthday. You had grown used to it. Loneliness was not so bad once you learned how to deal with the ache in your heart. But perhaps this year could be different, even though by now, you avoided telling the people in your life about your date of birth.

You had joined the Avengers a little over eight months now—and even though they were all nice and kind, there was only one other person you truly connected with. Loki. The man who had, only a few years ago, attempted to subjugate the entire planet. You shook your head quickly. It had not been his fault, not entirely. He had suffered under Thanos’ torments as much as you had been suffering under your loneliness. He was lonely too. Thor was his brother but he was no longer a friend, not really. The distance between them, albeit not physical, felt heart-breaking to even watch.

Surely, Loki would not be opposed to joining you in the thermal bath spa today. You intended to treat yourself, clandestinely and quietly, for your birthday. Having Loki with you—the man you could not only spend countless sleepless nights with talking about life, desires and fears but also caused your reoccurring and uncontrollable wet dreams. Seeing him shirtless for almost an entire day would put the cherry on top of your imaginary birthday cake.

Cautiously, you knocked on his door, your bag already packed. You would not need more than a book to relax with, some snacks (some of which were healthier than others), a towel and another bikini to change into, especially since the exclusive sauna was a no-clothing area anyway. Oh… if you got Loki to join you there…

“Yes…?” Loki’s disinterested face practically lit up when he realised it was you who had knocked. Smiling, you squeezed yourself through the gap.

“Hi.”

“Good morning.” He frowned, eyeing your bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I am, and I was wondering if you would like to join me. I’m heading to a local thermal bath spa to relax a little. You know… whirlpools, saunas, massages…”

Intrigued, he leaned forward. He remembered receiving positively amazing massages from Asgardian therapists in the palace when he was younger. They had worked wonders on his exhausted muscles after his training with Thor.

“Who else is coming?” He asked.

“No one. Just you and me.”

The God of Mischief smirked. “Very well.”

-

It had taken him time to warm up to you, and he had not just once questioned your intentions and sincerity. It warmed your heart, seeing him blithe, cheeky and curious now whenever the two of you were together. It almost felt like catching glimpses of his old, light-hearted self—before he had found out he was a Frost Giant; and that his whole life had been but a lie.

Loki had a good heart—he merely protected it well.

“Are you telling me we are going to share these pools with other people?!” He exclaimed in a downright horrified manner as you walked past the first swimming area to the reception.

“Oh… yes.” You giggled. “I’m afraid so, the spa is open for other customers too, after all. I’ve booked a booth all for myself… so we’ll have as much privacy as possible, alright? Hi!” You smiled at the receptionist who gave you a court nod.

“I’ve made a reservation, the name is (Y/L/N).”

“Oh yes, Ms (Y/L/N), you’re right on time. Please, let me escort you and your partner to your booth. Inside, you’ll find our welcome package, including champagne and the hot chocolate for your massage. If you need anything else, you can pay with your bracelets which will also give you access to our sauna world. Any purchases made will be added to your bill when you check out, other than that… we’re happy to help if you are experiencing any problems.” The words bubbled from her mouth like the gushing waterfall in the whirlpool area.

“Oh, uh, yes, thank you.” You stuttered. You blinked, blushing furiously. Loki spoke up as soon as she was gone and left you to change into your complementary bathrobes.

“Hot chocolate… for our massage?”

“Um… yeah… the package I booked to get this booth is intended for couples, usually.” You had almost forgotten about that when you decided to invite Loki this morning… Well, at least, the booth was nice. Opaque and dimly lit, it reminded you of an indoor-tipi. Inside, a giant round mattress took most of the space, along with a small table with, like the receptionist had promised, the hot chocolate and a bottle of champagne with two glasses.

“Ah. I see.”

Your heart skipped a beat, no, several at once, when Loki’s blue gaze met yours. If only he knew about your wet dreams… with a sigh, you undressed until all there was left was your bikini. You truly couldn’t wait to dive into the whirlpool first thing before your massage appointments, but what you were looking forward to even more was spending an entire day with Loki completely shirtless.

You gulped, quietly, when he followed your example. Quite hilariously, he had been rather unfamiliar with the concept of swimwear. On Asgard, nudity was rarely frowned upon when it came to bathing, whether it was a giant bathtub or a lake—still, Loki had always had the privilege of complete privacy as a prince, so he had told you.

He had refused to borrow one of Tony’s bathing trunks and instead opted for magic. Now, all he was left wearing were a pair of black swimming trunks with green and gold accents, complimenting his pale, yet well-defined and muscly chest.

“Do you like what you are seeing, my dear?” Blinking, you cleared your throat, quickly looking away. You blushed again, causing the God of Mischief to chuckle to himself. He truly was a tease. By now, you had learned this much—Loki was constantly torn between his smugness and confidence because of his physical superiority over you and his own shyness and insecurities whispering to him that as a Jötun, who would ever find him attractive compared to the mighty Thor?

You longed to prove him a lot more often he was indeed a lot more handsome than the Thunderer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said finally, his cheeky grin growing even wider when you grabbed a towel and headed for the whirlpools. Loki followed you amused.

-

“Loki…?”

“Yes, my dear?”

You had been watching him, secretly of course, for the past twenty minutes now. How his muscles danced when he leaned back and closed his eyes, arms spread on the edge of the whirlpool and his Adam’s apple moving slightly when he swallowed… his wet body shimmering in the dim light of the spa… focus.

“Is there a reason nobody else is willing to join us in this particular whirlpool?” He really liked this one. For the past hour, you had been trying them all out. You could tell he preferred those with lower water temperatures. Oddly, however, other customers practically seemed to avoid the pool. Granted, some of them might have recognised him… but surely not all of them.

“I would never…” He teased, opening one eye and glaring at you mischievously. You grinned, shaking your head. For Heaven’s sake, you would only love to swim over to him and sit on his lap, find out what it would feel like to straddle him and to explore his muscles with your wet palms… but you would probably freak him out if you did. Loki had never indicated he had a romantic, let alone sexual interest in you. Your wet dreams would most likely remain just that—dreams. Wishful thinking. You sighed, taking a peek at the huge clock on the wall.

“We have one and half more hours until our massages. I’m gonna dry off and head to the sauna for a bit but you can stay here if you like.”

“No,” he replied quickly. “I will join you.”

You climbed out of the whirlpool with a smile, your body, instead of freezing, growing hot as soon as you heaved yourself out of the water. The cool air should have made you shiver, yet you felt your back burning. Loki was watching you, you were sure of it. Intently.

You returned to your private booth to put on your bathrobe, with Loki following you suit. It was nice and warm inside, perfect for a short break.

“Ugh, stupid hair…” Grumbling to yourself, you struggled to make your wet ponytail presentable again. The God of Mischief chuckled and raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smirk tugging at his lips.

“Come.” He said, reaching out for you. Blinking, and ignoring your rapid heartbeat, you obeyed. He made you turn around so you were sitting between his legs, holding onto his thigh for support. You had expected so much out of this spa visit with Loki… but not that you would become so aroused throughout the day. This man could be breathing peacefully and it would make you horny. For Heaven’s sake…

You almost purred when he suddenly ran his long fingers through your wet streaks to untangle it a little. He removed the hair tie easily and soon began to part your hair in three. Before you even realised what he was doing, he was already braiding it neatly.

“You… wow. Thank you. How do you know how to do that?” And how do I get you to do this more often? His fingers had felt wonderfully in your hair and on your scalp. You could only imagine him pampering other parts of your body…

“I used to do it for my mother as a child. I always came to hide with her in her dressing room. It somehow calmed me down whenever Thor and his friends… never mind.”

Turn around, a seductive voice in your head screamed. Turn around and kiss him, now! But you did no such thing. Instead, you darted away from him as if stung by an adder, much to his surprise.

“S-sauna.” You said quickly. “ Loki nodded, eyes, however, widening fast when you started taking off your bikini under the bathrobe.

“What are you doing now?”

“Uh, there are no clothes allowed in the sauna.” You mumbled in response, curious about how he would react.

Gosh, ever since your arrival, you were torn between seduce him and pounce on him and run away screaming. You just couldn’t decide… in fact… in fact you wished he would just pull you on his lap and kiss you senseless.

“You mean to run around naked? Among strange men?” He countered as he approached you slowly. He looked good in that white bathrobe, it complemented his wet raven hair… argh, focus! Loki sounded almost… possessive. A sign? Would he kiss you? Pretty please with a cherry on top? Perhaps you should just tell him it was your birthday and ask for a proper kiss as your birthday gift.

“I do it all the time, Loki. No one cares about the nudity in there. Besides, it’s rather dark in the cabins. I understand if you don’t want to do it though, you don’t have to come with me, I can—”

The God of Mischief snorted. “I am not letting you go there alone.”

You paused, mid-sentence, a smile tugging at your lips. Now you couldn’t just kiss him but at least, you could hug him. Loki always acted like he hated the physical affection you often showered him with but in that aspect, he was a bad liar. A sigh escaped his lips when he reciprocated your hug and wrapped his arms around your body. It was so tiny compared to his, the urge to protect growing within him like an ancient, primal need. Mine… he blinked.

Oh no, you were a mortal. He would not make the same mistake as his brother and fall for a woman who would die centuries before him.

“Let us go.” He had not told you yet but he was not overly fond of saunas. He was familiar with the concept, of course—steam baths and alike—but had usually avoided them back on Asgard. It wasn’t until he had found out he was a Frost Giant that he realised why he despised the heat so much and yet… he was willing to sweat with discomfort just so he could see your half-naked, no, all naked body all wet and warm and… Loki cleared his throat and let go of you like a piece of blistering firewood. Mutely, he followed you to the sauna world and used his bracelet to get inside.

He already longed to snap the necks of the men turning around to glare at you hungrily when you both entered, his left hand jerking slightly as he almost brought it to the small of your back to show them you were taken. They glanced away again quickly, realising Loki was not to be meddled with.

As soon as the two of you had disappeared into one of the cabins—an empty one, much to his relief—he flicked his wrist. A green, barely visible shimmer of light surrounded the opaque door. No one else would get to explore your naked body with their eyes now—only him.

Only then did he start to feel the gravity of the heat around him. It enveloped him, slowed him down… he took a deep, disgusted breath.

-

You shouldn’t be shy. Fuck it. Drop your towel. So you did, avoiding Loki’s heated gaze on you as you did and sat down. While part of you meant to lean back and present your breasts to him temptingly, another wanted you to cover yourself up again this instant. You looked up and…

Loki’s lips were parted. He didn’t even think about removing the towel around his hips. Instead, his greedy gaze wandered up and down your body, slowly and intimately. You gulped. It took him a moment to pick himself up.

Then, finally, he slowly removed his own towel, revealing the sight of his member. You swallowed thickly. He was big. Bigger than the average man, even in his soft state. Loki sat down next to you, another mischievous smirk playing on his lips. He knew. He bloody knew. He must have… right?

With any other Avengers, this situation would have been super awkward and strange but with Loki… it was peaceful. Neither of you felt ashamed to be naked around the other, no sounds disrupting the silence. The heat felt amazing, sweating all negative energy from your system even better. There was only the steam hissing in the background, the rapid beating of your own heart and Loki, panting frantically. Panting?

“Loki? Are you okay?”

“I feel fine.” He lied. You flinched when you looked over to him. Loki was blue, his eyes glowing red in the dimly lit sauna and his bare chest decorated with dozens of ridges you longed to trace with your fingertips.

“You’re blue!”

Taken aback, the God of Mischief gazed down at himself, jumping up as if stung by an adder as soon as he realised.

“A-are you okay?”

“Fine,” he choked out. You barely had a chance to reply before he stormed out of the sauna.

“Loki! Loki, wait!” Grabbing your towel before you could dart after him, you clumsily wrapped it around your body to cover yourself up. Loki had disappeared into the shower room.

He glared at you from the corner of his eye when he saw you approaching him slowly—ignoring the other naked man taking a shower as cool as you please. The pattering of the water onto the wet files echoing through the room pierced your ears the closer you came but you barely even registered it. Loki was leaning against the wall, palms pressed flatly against it. He looked normal again. Not blue.

“You were not supposed to see that.” He growled quietly. Hesitatingly, you put one of your hands on his shoulder blade. He had no idea how this could have even happened. His body reacted to the cold. To objects of Jötun origin, not to heat and hot air. It must have been a defence mechanism to cope with the sudden temperature change…

“It doesn’t matter, Loki. I knew about… well.”

“You knew I am a monster? A wolf in sheep’s clothing?” He snapped bitterly.

“I knew you were a Frost Giant. You’re not a monster. You haven’t eaten me yet, have you?” You joked, waiting for him to reply. When he said nothing, you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Loki, I didn’t think the heat would do… this. Are you… are you sure you’re okay? I don’t want to spend the rest of my birthday in the hospital.” Even though you were fairly certain a regular hospital could barely help the God of Mischief. You should have considered his race when suggesting the sauna. Why, for Heaven’s sake, hadn’t he refused to come with you? To… protect you, maybe? From other, greedy men? Your pussy clenched at the mere thought of it.

“What did you just say?”

“W-what? Nothing.” Shit.

“Your birthday. You said it was your birthday.”

Defeated, you gave him a court nod and shrugged innocently. “It… it is. That’s why I wanted to come here today, relax a little… and spend time with you. Let’s just… go back to our booth and forget this happened, alright?”

She is not afraid of you. She does not hate you. She is not disgusted. The thoughts tumbled through Loki’s head like a house of twigs collapsing in on itself. She wants to spend her birthday with you.

He nodded mutely, for once at loss for words, and followed you. He had sworn to himself to not make the same mistake as his brother, besides, a mortal was no match for him… right? How soon, however, would he once again find someone who liked his company simply for the sake of it? Someone who would spend their most important day with him of all people? Someone who did not despise his true nature? Perhaps… perhaps, he should reconsider.

Hungry for a snack to stifle the shock, you reached into your bag to retrieve a package of marshmallows once you were back in your private booth. It was your birthday, after all. You could have some additional calories today if you weren’t going to get any cake. Apart from that, you needed something to munch on, even after admiring Loki’s backside… and his very impressive manhood. You wondered, briefly, if his cock was covered in ridges too when he was in his Jötun form… and how they would feel inside of you. You should have looked down when you had the chance. Licking your lips with a hum in a weak attempt to distract yourself from your naughty thoughts, you ripped open the package and fished one of the marshmallows out.

In the meantime, Loki opened the champagne bottle and poured you both a glass.

“And what is that supposed to be?” He said as he handed you one of them.

“Marshmallows? You’ve never had marshmallows before?”

“No…” He responded slowly, rather suspicious towards the white sugar clumps.

“They’re sweet and soft and… here.” Unceremoniously, you dipped it into the hot chocolate. It shouldn’t go to waste, now should it? “Eat.”

Loki obeyed, still in doubt but he soon hummed in approval when he let it disappear in his mouth. “Delicious… Tell me, what was that hot chocolate intended for, initially?” He asked curiously when he had swallowed, nodding at it before taking a sip of his champagne.

“Um… well…”

Impatiently, he raised an eyebrow.

“It’s for, uh, couple massages. You know… you’re supposed to use the chocolate for… as…”

“Massage oil?” He finished your sentence with a nod. His blue eyes locked with yours, making your heart pound in your chest. By the Norns, he should have read the signs earlier. The way you looked at him—both shyly and provocatively at the same time… the way your breath caught in your lungs whenever he touched you, even if it was in the most innocent and decent way possible. You made him laugh, too. It had been a while since he had laughed, from all his heart.

“Hmm, I see. Well, perhaps you were wrong, my dear.” He mused and put his glass away, making his decision there and then. “Perhaps I will eat you after all.”

He smirked—maliciously at that when your eyes widened and he crawled up to you on the huge mattress, right until he towered above you. Unceremoniously, he reached for the hot chocolate and inhaled deeply. The scent was infatuating—Loki’s hungry glare, however, even more so.

“L-Loki… what are you doing?”

His lips parted, one of his hands reaching up to caress your cheek. You shivered, desire and affection rippling through you. What was happening here?

You couldn’t help it. Your eyes wandered down to his lips. What would it feel like to press your lips against his? What would it feel like… oh. He was kissing you. A moan escaped your throat when his mouth came crashing down on yours, kissing you gently at first and then, devouring your lips like his last meal. Your languishing glance, so it seemed, was all the invitation he had needed. Loki’s hands set your body on fire, exploring every inch of your skin, stroking your neck, your arms, your chest…

You squealed when he undid the messy knot you had tied into your towel, leaving you completely exposed beneath him. Once more, his blue eyes appeared to ravish you whole. Then, suddenly, you both witnessed and felt him pouring the warm chocolate over your chest and breasts, your already hardening nipples reacting to the sweet liquid immediately. Oh my… God…

You couldn’t have imagined it to be like this in your wildest dreams. Goose bumps lingered wherever his fingertips ghosted over your body, the droplets of chocolate tickling where they trailed down your sides, threatening to stain the mattress. Your breath was trembling from desire by the time Loki lowered his head to your body and finally released your now swollen lips, instead tending to the warm and sweet mess he had created on your upper body. His tongue darted out as he hummed in joyful anticipation, patiently licking you clean.

Your back arched, hips bucking up towards him and grazing his crotch. It was him who moaned this time, his free hand, for he propped himself up with the other, fondling one of your breasts. You wanted more. Oh, you wanted so much more. But not here. This booth was private but at the end of the day you were still in public. At home, back at the compound… if that was what he wanted too. Don’t be a fool… of course he wants it too, the horny voice inside your head complained.

“Hmm… this tastes much better than those marshmallows…” He purred. You whimpered when he sucked one of your hard nipples into his mouth and tenderly nibbled on it. The attention made you clench your legs. Betraying arousal was pooling in your centre, drenching your bikini bottoms. If he didn’t stop now…

“W-we’re going to miss our m-massages, Loki…” You attempted weakly.

Loki chuckled darkly. “Something tells me you wouldn’t very much mind that, my sweet.” My sweet… if you hadn’t been lying down, your knees would have given in now at the very latest. Loki had a lot of explaining to do, and so did you. You had pounced on one another like wolves in heat, like sex-starved beasts… but not now. For the time being, you would simply enjoy having broken the thin layer of ice remaining between you. “You are right, of course.” He added then. “I want to be the only one to hear you screaming my name…” Another low chuckle rumbled through his voice chords, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine. Reluctantly, he released you and let you catch your breath. Naked, you sat up, eyeing him with a shy smile which Loki reciprocated. This spa day escalated quickly, you thought, giggling to yourself. Not that you were to complain.

He winked. “Happy Birthday, (Y/N).”

-

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my  first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would  appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

All Fall Down. (R. Ross x Reader)               

For: anon

Request: could you do a ryan or gerard x reader where the reader is sick? if not it’s totally cool, just wondering

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

                                 ——————

It was inevitable; you knew that. Your days were numbered, and regardless of how careful you were, no matter how many precautions you took, you knew that you would eventually fall. The stomach bug had been making the rounds on the Pretty. Odd. tour, and unless you were one of the four band members who were being kept away from everyone else, you were fair game.

“Ryan, don’t,” you croaked, using what little strength you had left to push yourself up into a sitting position on your bunk.

You were dazed and disorientated and had no idea what time it was. Looking out of the small window next to your bed was no help either; the grounds on which the tour bus stood was completely shrouded in darkness. It could’ve been the impending promise of nightfall, or it could have just been the dreary Maine weather.

It felt as if you had only just fallen asleep, yet it also felt like you’d been sleeping for months. The blankets had become your enemy, drawing you into a battle of constant pushing and pulling as your body temperature fluctuated between extremes.

Making the mistake of turning around to look if Ryan had entered the bus, your stomach churned and your head spun.

“Oh god, here it comes,” you choked out, hand flying to your mouth as you stood up and staggered to the tiny bathroom.

Hearing the commotion, Ryan hurried onto the bus, struggling to maintain a firm hold on the ginger ale and crackers in his hands.

“My love?” he called to you with concern in his voice, bursting into the bunk area just as you shut the bathroom door. “Too slow; I saw ya! I brought reinforcements.”

The scene inside the compact space was not at all pretty. You were sprawled on the floor, limbs splayed out as wide as the restraining walls would allow. The toilet bowl was directly next to your head; as unappealing as the position was, you were terribly afraid that if you were too far away from it, you would make a mess all over the floor once the contents of your stomach decided to make a premature reappearance.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Just leave me here to die, Ryan.”

“Never gonna happen, (Y/N).”

At the risk of being yelled at – and catching the bug – Ryan tentatively pushed on the bathroom door, peeking through once it had opened a smidge so that he could see you. When his eyes landed on your limp figure, his boyfriend instincts took over and he burst in and dropped down to your side.

“Oh, my love, you look terrible. What can I do? How do I help?”

“You can go away.” You gave him a weak push – one that barely caused him to move. “Don’t get too close, else you’ll get it too.”

“Don’t care. You need me.”

Even though your head and your heart wanted to argue with him, your body betrayed you and instead of expelling words, it expelled what little contents you had left in your stomach.

Ryan rushed to pick up a washcloth that was hanging over the towel rack, and ran it underneath cold water before gently pressing it to your face. He had felt awful when other members of the crew had fallen victim to the bug and had helped where he could, but seeing you in such a state of agony broke his heart.

Management would have his head if they found out that he was exposing himself to a sicknes when they still had a week and a half of tour left, though he couldn’t care less at this point. You were his only concern.

“Ryan…”

“I’m here, my love. What do you need?”

“To get back to bed. But I’m too weak to lift myself.”

“Say no more-“ He instantly reached down to lift you up, but you lifted a shaky hand to stop him.

“No, get someone else. Someone who isn’tone of the band members.”

Hurt flashed across his soft features. “Why?”

“Because you can’t afford to catch this, and you’ve already exposed yourself too much,” you spoke hoarsely, looking up at him with droopy yet determined eyes, “I can’t kill Ryan Ross. The fans would riot.”

“(Y/N)-“

“Out, Ross,” you commanded, pointing at the door, “I’m serious.”

✧✧✧

“Come on, (Y/L/N). Woman up. It’s medicine, not poison.”

“Those are one and the same, to me.”

With a frustrated groan and a frown etched onto his forehead, Ryan reached over to try and force feed you the medicine. “Would you just- UGH!”

You swatted him away angrily, pushing yourself back to lean against the headboard of the hotel bed. “Leave me aloneeeeee,” you drawled, holding up a pillow to block him. “YOU’RE GONNA GET SICK!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

In one swift movement, he hit the pillow out of the way and straddled you, pressing his legs against your sides to prevent you from wriggling away.

Sighing defeatedly, you folded your arms over your chest to showcase your displeasure, but ultimately resigned yourself to opening your mouth.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, baby.” The guitarist’s hand was as steady as ever as he lifted the spoon full of liquid up for you to take in. He watched with an intense, unwavering gaze to ensure that you swallowed every single drop.

Your stomach fluttered at his endearing actions, though you didn’t dare to tell him that. The last thing you wanted to do was to encourage his behaviour. It was unresponsible for him to be exposing himself like this, and it irked you that he refused to acknowledge the fact.

Nevertheless, the medicine worked wonders on your frail state, and you settled into an restful slumber shortly after taking the dose. Smiling to himself, Ryan placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

✧✧✧

A couple days later and you had made a full recovery, stepping out of self-appointed quarantine for the first time in who knows how long. You were still apprehensive about re-entering the land of the healthy though, and made a concerted effort to avoid touching anything or anyone as you walked through the venue.

“Hey, look who it is!” Jon beamed at you as you entered the rehearsal area. He was at the far end of the room but despite the distance between you two, you held up one hand to warn him to keep back. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah – much better, thanks.” You looked around the room carefully. “Have you seen Ryan?”

“Dressing room, I think.”

You nodded. “Thanks, J.”

Before he could reply, you were out the door and on your way to find your boyfriend. You made sure to take the quickest route that allowed you to pass the least amount of people, and kept your hands in your pockets the entire time to avoid inadvertently reinfecting yourself.

Nearing the dressing room, you could hear movement from inside and it prompted you to barrel your way through the door.

“Ryan?”

“Stay back.”

“Why?”

“Because – Oh no, oh no…” he gasped, shoving his way past you and out of the door.

You stepped to the side quick enough for him to fly by, but followed immediately behind him despite his pleas for you not to. Suddenly, seeing Ryan falling prey to the bug erradicated any fear you had of catching it again, and your only concern from then on out was to help him.

Ryan tumbled into the bathroom across the hall, failing to lock the door in his ill state. You rapped your knuckles against the door tentatively.

“My love, I’m coming in, okay?”

“No… no… I’m fine.”

“You sound wonderful.”

A weak groan sounded from the other side of the door. “Go away, (Y/N). I don’t… need you… either.”

His words were a resounding reminder of how abrasive you’d been towards him whilst he was nursing you through your sickness, and you sighed heavily as you mentally cursed yourself for it.

“Ryan, I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you from all this,” you apologised, pushing the door open a tiny crack, “I know that you were just trying to help, and I’m sorry I treated you so badly. But please, let mehelp you.”

The musician’s response came in the form of an agonising groan; he was too sick to argue any further at this point, so you opened the door and dropped down next to him. Your hand flew to his back to rub soothing circles there.

“Go…” he tried again, but couldn’t subdue his throwing up long enough to say more. His body slumped against the cool wall, eyes droopy as he stared up at you.

“Not a chance, Ross,” you shook your head. “You’re not getting rid of me. No way.”

“Okay… just… promise me one thing.”

“Mm?”

“Promise… that you’ll let me cough on the other guys. If I’m gonna die, I’m taking the rest of them down with me.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

[enbeemagical]

Any hc about our sparkly elf, Aaravos?

If not him, Runaan and Ethari?

OHHHH YES

OH YES INDEEDY

you see, I rp Aaravos, which means he likes to talk in my head even when I would rather he shut up so I can go to sleep. And he has Lots Of Opinions. Occasionally I learn things he’d rather I not know, and that’s where I build from.

okay! Headcanons!!

Due to his experiences, Aaravos doesn’t just hate Avizandum, he’s actually dracophobic. 

He’s aroallo-- aromantic and allosexual (pan, usually). (I’m not entirely certain if I show that well in my rp, since Aaravos is so different from me. We’re both arospec, so that probably helps, but he’s allo and I’m ace and the blog is SFW, so idk anything lmao)

Yeah, Aaravos is good at flirting, but it’s never anything serious, you know? Flirting =/= attraction, and in fact flirting = no attraction. He’ll flirt with anything and anyone, but when he flusters and doesn’t quite know what to say, when he cuts the nicknames and teasing? That’s when you know he’s fallen.

Nicknames are just how he talks. He doesn’t bother remembering names unless they’re important to him. He’s sort of like Diana Wynne Jones’s Chrestomanci/Christopher Chant in that, except instead of calling Mr. Baslam “Mr. Bislow” he’d call him “dark mage.” He’ll use nicknames anytime on anyone, but name-names are only for people he respects/cares about. So he might call the dragon king “Avizandum,” because as much as he hates him, Avizandum imprisoned him, and  Aaravos can’t help but respect the power it took to imprison him, an Archmage. (I still haven’t convinced him to call Amaya by her name, even though he says he respects her. Wait a sec--)

Revised nickname headcanon: He uses names when he feels close to someone. Not just respect, though that has something to do with it. Names aren’t something he takes lightly. 

Okay, this got long, so there are two dozen more headcanons under the cut. They’re just in the order I thought of them, so they kind of jump around a bit, sorry. Angst and fluff.

Aaravos is basically a faerie. Not fairy like Tinkerbell; faerie like the high fae, like Oberon, Titania, and Puck. He’s extremely powerful, ethereally beautiful (though not all fae are), and he’s very careful with his wording.

Either Aaravos can lie and simply doesn’t, or he cannot lie and doesn’t want that to be known. (I choose to ignore the option of “he was lying when he said he never lies” because that hurts my brain.) “I’m not lying. I never lie.” Never, not cannot, which. Details, details.

He was betrayed. He ended up in the mirror because he was betrayed. They drugged him to seal away his magic so Avizandum could imprison him. I have several scenes of this in my head, but @alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice and I are using this is TSATS so I don’t want to give too much more away.

Ziard was Aaravos’s apprentice. They were kind of like Halt and Will in Ranger’s Apprentice. Only they invented dark magic together and Halt and Will didn’t use magic.

Dark magic causes nightmares until you learn it, if you don’t have training. Aaravos’s nightmares? The other Startouch elves leaving.

He’s afraid of being alone. He used to like it, spending hours and days and weeks alone with his books quite happily. But after he literally could not interact with anyone for three hundred years, he’d break if he had to be alone again.

He actually did break during those centuries. Multiple times. Screaming, crying, throwing things, trying to break things, windows, the mirror, anything. Even himself.

They’re antlers, not horns. Horns are one point, you get one (1) set for life, like adult teeth. Antlers have branches, and you get a new set every year. Aaravos... has feelings about this. 

Startouch elves spoke like a Shakespeare play. This one’s kind of silly, and entirely based around the line, “Yes, it’s well appointed, but make no mistake, this has been my prison these past few centuries!” and me thinking that “well appointed” sounded very Shakespearean and he could just as well have said “Yes, it’s quite nice, but make no mistake” etcetera (and a bit that I keep wanting to write “thou” when writing him lately). Anyway. Moving on.

Aaravos is a good animal trainer. He’s got the patience for it, and he’s smart. He’s probably trained lots of animals, of many different species. Clicker training, probably; definitely primarily positive reinforcement.

The horse? Is not a horse. It’s a couch. (I only go in for this one because I love the image of Aaravos jumping around on his couch like a little kid, draping himself all over the room. Funnily enough, how he rides is entirely plausible, given that I’m not even drinking age and I can ride my horse very similarly to how Aaravos rides. He’s millennia older than me; he could absolutely ride like that.)

Aaravos killed Queen Aditi and Queen Luna Tenebris. That’s a big reason why he was imprisoned. Yeah, the dark magic was part of it, but Ziard lived 1,000 years ago and Aaravos was only imprisoned 300 years ago. Either he managed to evade the authorities for 700 years, or something else was the tipping point. Maybe a bit of both.

Aaravos has killed a lot of people, for various reasons. Sometimes for revenge (I’d like to think Aditi killed Ziard, which is why Aaravos went after her), sometimes just for being in his way (he discarded the poor Sunfire priest way too casually).

If he really cares about someone, he will kill for them? Die for them? Nah, not really, he’d have to be absolutely crazily stupid with love for that. Kill for them? Absolutely, any day.

Oh and he does the murderously protective thing where he’s like, “Oh, and if anyone hurts you do let me know. I will be happy to talk to them about that. 💖🔪😇 ”

He doesn’t like children. Like, there are a few he cares about, but by and large he’s like “children? ugh, no, yuck.”

He doesn’t fall in love easily, but when he does, he is in love. Period, fullstop.

For all his flirting and teasing, he knows how to respect no. I mean. Look at Xadia’s culture. Being queer is a total nonissue, women are actually treated as equal to men. Sure, it’s not perfect, but it’s hella better than here. Aaravos grew up in Xadia. He’s gonna respect people as people. Will he flirt insanely with everyone, whether they’re into him or not? Yeah. If he talks, he flirts. Will he make a move on someone who doesn’t want him to? No.

He loves cats. Need I say more?

He didn’t get any kind of trial, no chance to defend himself, to tell his side of the story. He was just betrayed and imprisoned.

Aaravos’s arrogance and vanity is a cover over some major self-esteem issues. Maybe he didn’t always have those, but during his imprisonment there were times he believed that he deserved it. That he was a monster, a soulless demon (like they said he was), and he didn’t deserve freedom. That he had no heart, that all he could do was hurt people, and anytime he tried to help he only ended up hurting more. Destruction and tragedy was all he could bring. He’d try not to believe that, forcing himself to remember good things he’d done, telling himself over and over again that he can help people he’s not a monster he’s not-- and he just. can’t. because he’s tried to help, yes, he saved Elarion and he killed for those he loved, but he killed, and not always to protect, and he even enjoyed it. He knows he’s done bad things, but he enjoyed them. Maybe he did deserve to be put in here, alone. Because if he deserved it, maybe when he’s suffered enough to atone he can be free, but if he was truly unjustly imprisoned then there will be no freedom. And this doesn’t make sense, and he knows it’s illogical, so he pulls on a mask of pride and confidence, hoping ‘fake it til you make it’ will work eventually, but underneath. Aaravos. Is. Broken.

Aaravos likes humans in general more than elves in general. They tend to be less judgey at him and they look up to him. Nice ego boost there, the admiration.

He also likes animals, especially now. They don’t judge him based on any criteria a human, elf, or dragon might use. They just care how he personally treats them specifically, and he’s good to them so they love him. They don’t ask anything more of him than that, no relentless demands on his time, and they can just happily coexist in companionable silence. Humans tend to be less good at that.

His favorite fiction books are romance novels. He does like the different ones, the cliche-benders that turn tropes on their heads, but sometimes there’s nothing like curling up with a cheesy, predictable, well-loved story and a cup of hot chocolate.

So, anon, this live up to your expectations?

[achliegh]

Positive

Thank you to: @walking-crisis, @clearsuitcasecookienerd, @blingywitch, @waltzintherain, and @moonofthenight, @onlydreamofmysoul (If I missed anyone who answered my asks please let me know! I know some haven’t answered yet but I am hoping they will)

TW/CW: High school bullies, Coming out to homophobic family, Slurs, Homophobic languages and attitudes, mentions of sex, and pregnancy, teen pregnancy, probably food and drink. Oh! And cigarettes and underage drinking.

Chapter 3

The Beginning

January 2016

“I feel like shit.” Indigo was laying on the couch with a cold cloth on her head, wearing Leo’s new Dallas Star sweatshirt and her shorts she showed up in a month ago. They hadn’t been about to grab much from when they snuck back in through Peri’s window. She left him a note under his pillow because he has this weird habit of flipping his pillow every night before he goes to bed. It just said she was safe and if he ever needed a way out to call Leo’s house.

She has been feeling like absolute shit these last few weeks, headaches are constant, she can’t keep a lot down, her and Leo are sharing a bed because he is such a fucking worry wart and it is just to warm. She only gained like four pounds in the last couple months and she was already sure she was showing, even if Leo and his parents didn’t see it. She always got so anxious before going to school, they didn’t know what to tell the coach except that Indigo had gotten sick with something and is still going through testing so she can’t practice. Which… wasn’t wrong per say. It did bring more attention her way.

Leo and her had a talk the other night about how many people should know, obviously their parents. The doctors would have to know, but they didn’t want anyone else to know. Especially because Leo’s parents hadn't even told the world they had Leo yet. So, the baby had to be secret.

“I know you feel like shit, here.” He hands her a glass of water and a rice Krispy bar, they have been her favorite snack for as long as she can remember. She takes them from him, sitting up to take a big gulp of water. Setting the glass on the side table she starts messing with Leo’s hair as he sat on the ground near her knees. Eating her treat she twists his curls around her finger absentmindedly. Comfortable silence falls between them as Leo works on his homework.

“I hope this thing has hair like you. It’s so curly.” She finishes her snack and starts making a couple of tiny braids in his hair.

“Hmmm, I bet they will have your hair color though. I hope they have your skin tone. It’s beautiful.” He feels her fingers stop in his hair and he looks up at her. Her brows are furrowed and she appears to be thinking which is a rarity these days.

“I don’t want them to… I don’t want them to face all the stares and shit thrown at me because I'm Hispanic. I don’t want them to have to be afraid like I am sometimes.” Her hands fall into her lap, glaring at her hands.

“I know I can’t protect them or you forever, but I will for as long as I can. People are shit and we both know this… and I’m not saying this to feed my hero complex you say I have. I never want to see anything happen to you because of someone thinking skin color means separation. I’d separate their skin from their body if they laid a finger on you or our kid. But I also have seen you try to fight an old man before so I know you can hold your own.”

“OH MY GOD! I threaten a racist old man once and you will never let me live it down!” she flops back down on the sofa dramatically, pouting and kicking Leo in the back of the head lightly. “I should go change, we have an ultrasound in like an hour.” Leo hums in agreement with her, she gets up with minimal grumbling and goes to change. Leo can’t help but watch her to make sure she get up the stairs safely.

He sits there for a moment swallowing the absolute guilt he feels for this whole situation. Every time she throws up, it feels like he should take the sickness away from her and put it on himself. He feels awful about this even if it wasn’t his decision to go through with the pregnancy, he still feels like this is all his fault. Sighing her closes his homework knowing he isn’t gonna be able to focus on it anymore.

He stands up and goes out to the sun porch outside of the kitchen, pulling out his cigarettes and lights. He decides to take the edge off. He has been smoking a lot less because he can’t smoke around Indigo, and her having to stop cold turkey has really affected her. Taking his time to finish his first and then second cig he puts the second one out on the sole of his shoe. Walking back in the house he finds Indigo back on the couch in her normal doc appointment outfit. Leggings and a loose t-shirt. If he wasn’t a raging homosexual he probably would have found her cute, but instead he just found her endearing.

“Ready?” She looks up at him as she slaps her hair up in a ponytail. They make their way to the doctors office, everything is going smoothly. Indigo’s weight is healthy so is pretty much everything about her, but when it comes to the ultrasound things get a little weird.

Leo is starting to get nervous, the doctor is staring at the screen of the ultra sound having not turned it towards the two teens yet. Indigo was squeezing his hand and watching the littlE wand thing being moved around her stomach. They never had to wait this long to see the screen before and it put them both on edge.

“So, this is going to be a very hard pregnancy with your body type I’m afraid.” The doctor looks at them and is met by one terrified and one confused look. “Is there a history of multiples in your family?”

“Like twins? I mean I have twin brothers… Wait.” She looks at the doctor with wide eyes. Nodding the doctor moves the screen to show them the two alien forms inside of Indigo. “Holy Fuck.” she slaps a hand over her mouth, staring at the screen that just told her it was double what she was expecting.

“I was not expecting that.” Leo chimes in giving her hand a supportive squeeze.

After the appointment is over and they are driving home Leo’s phone goes off. Indigo answers it still in shock from the news they were just told. It’s Eloise, she’s calling to hear how the appointment went. Leo’s parents were so excited to hear about Indigo and Leo’s opsie. They told the teens they would take the last four months of the pregnancy off of work to help.

“Eloise… It's twins.” The time goes quiet for about a solid minute, Leo pulls into the driveway and turns the car off waiting for the response. They hear shuffling on the other side of the phone and look at each other nervously, which probably isn’t good for the baby or babies.

“That’s amazing news. Oh honey we are so happy for you!” They let out a sigh of relief. They were gonna be okay.

[dc41896]

My Shiny Teeth and Me

Quick idea I had after seeing the story and post about Flo going to the dentist while he’s in Australia (which was adorable lol) and I hope you guys like it☺️!

Pairing: Florian MunteanuxBlack Reader

Warning(s): None, all fluff💕

“Lennox! C’mon buddy or you’re gonna be late for the dentist.” Holding the small Spider-Man backpack in his hand, he waits on the other side of the playground fence for the four-year-old to finish saying bye to all his friends, smiling to himself at how adorable the pre-schooler looked.

“Mommy can’t come?,” he asks, small hand being completely enveloped by Florian’s as they crossed the parking lot.

“No not this time, remember she’s still at work but is gonna meet us after to eat ok?”

“Ok,” he replies with a pout as he’s buckled in his car seat.

“Hey don’t look so sad, we’re still gonna have fun!,” he smiles, tickling him under his chin until he begins squirming in his seat from his fit of giggles.

Knowing how nervous he was, Florian tried his best to make Lennox laugh or get his mind off of what was coming the whole car ride to the appointment. However, he wasn’t really up for fun right at the moment.

Like most kids his age, he was afraid of the dentist and had been despising this day since the last appointment when he found out he’d have to come again. It also didn’t help that his mom wouldn’t be there, who usually would take him to his appointments and hold his hand to make him feel better.

Both you and Florian told him that he would hold his hand and comfort him, but Lennox still wanted you there. Although he didn’t say anything about it, you were sure that he probably felt some type of way from his son treating you as if you were the favorite parent.

Walking through the wooden doors of the office, Lennox clings onto his dad’s leg as he walks up to sign him in.

“Hey Mr. Munteanu, how’s everything?,” Dr. Edwards asks while walking another patient out.

“Good! But Lennox is still a bit nervous,” he answers whispering the last part. Holding on as if he were a scared cat caught in a tree, Lennox buries his face behind his father’s knee.

“I see, well Lennox I promise it won’t hurt. I’m just gonna clean your teeth so they can stay healthy.”

“Right, and I’ll be there too so nothing will happen to you.”

Taking turns looking from Florian to the dentist, he slowly let’s go and moves to stand beside him. “Ok, I’m ready.”

Following Dr. Edwards to the exam room, Lennox sits in the chair fiddling with his hands as he nervously looks at the tools on the table beside him.

“I know you’re still a bit nervous so how about I do a quick exam on your dad so you can see what all I do? You can even help me if you want?”

Handing him the tool with the small mirror on it, the small child slightly perks up at this idea as he nods his head.

“Great! First let’s look in his mouth with the mirror to make sure we don’t see anything bad,” he explains helping Lennox guide the tool around Florian’s mouth.

“I don’t see anything how about you Dr. Lennox?”

“Nope! All clean!,” he answers handing the tool back to Dr. Edwards. “Good job tata!”

“Next, we’d use this tool to get in between the teeth to get out anything stuck like food. Then if everything’s ok, we’d start brushing with this.”

Watching him hold up the humming tool, Lennox nervously grabs Florian’s hand letting out a soft whimper.

“It’s ok! See it doesn’t hurt.” Holding out his hand, he lets Dr. Edwards use the electric toothbrush on his hand, circling it around a couple times to show nothing would happen.

After watching his dad for a few minutes, he holds out his hand so the dentist can do the same to him.

“So do you think you can sit in the chair like a big boy and get your teeth cleaned?,” Florian asks, lightly playing with the curls on top of Lennox’s head.

“...yea I think so.”

———

“MOMMY!!! I’M BIG LIKE TATA!!” Running up to you when you got close enough to the table, Lennox jumps into your arms hugging you tight.

“You are! I take it the dentist went well?,” you ask leaning over to kiss Florian as you sit down.

“It did, he helped the dentist check my teeth so he could get comfortable, and then he sat in the chair and said he was ready.”

“Yea I was a big boy!! And I got a sticker and toothbrush!” Holding up his plastic bag, he shows you his new lime green toothbrush, travel sized toothpaste, floss, and Spider-Man sticker.

“Oh wow that’s great love! I’m so proud of you!!,” you smile kissing his forehead.

“And then after, tata went to Krispy Kreme and got us do-,”

“Ok buddy let’s let mommy order her food yea?,” Florian interrupts gently covering the small child’s mouth making him giggle.

“Be glad I’m too excited about him not being afraid anymore that I’ll ignore the donuts,” you smirk, glancing at Florian before looking at the menu to figure out what you wanted.

“Mommy I want tata to always take me. We have fun!,” Lennox smiles before starting to color in his small booklet.

“Oh ok, yea that’s fine love.” Although you were smiling, you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt how he seemingly didn’t need or want you to go with him anymore. Clearly reading your mood, Florian slides your chair closer to him and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Babe it’s ok, he loves you and will still want you to take him.”

“Yea I know, but it’s like I’ve been replaced,” you slightly pout lying your head on his arm as you watch your son in his own little world continue coloring.

“Well remember what you told me, although it may seem like it Lennox doesn’t have a favorite parent and loves us equally.”

“That was when I was the favorite though,” you reply making Florian laugh in his signature boisterous style.

“Then maybe you’d still be the favorite if you bought him donuts,” he smirks before sitting back and sipping his water as you smack at his chest.

Taglist: @crushed-pink-petals @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @lovelymari4 @melinda-january @themyscxiras @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @itshinothey @wildfirecracker @nina-sj

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged and don’t see your name, or only wants to be tagged for certain people I write for just let me know🤓!!

[doctordiscord123]

The Worst Kind of Pain is the Lonely Kind

Celine is so lonely...so she turns to a close friend for comfort. It spirals into so much more, for better or for worse

I’m gonna have to split this into multiple parts! So keep an eye out uwu

Buy me a ko-fi

Tag List: @demon-dark-666 @devon-rever-860 @smash-ash26 @bender-of-life @verse2wo @vociferous-chaos @sammael-is-here @itsjustkyss @takethepainawaybae @the-pan-anon @ts-famderartist @rottingmolars @revolutionbastard @toothfairy2298 @sororia04s @sirkawaiipotato @darkest-shade-of-light @bitchbyebibye @posts-random-art @xoskeletonkid   If you want to be added just let me know!

 Warnings: Emotional Neglect, Touch-Starvation  Characters: Celine, the Colonel, the Actor  Pairings: Celine/the Actor  Word Count: 1929 words

Celine was lonely.

She laid awake -- alone -- in bed, staring idly at the clock. It was nearing dawn. Five-ish am. Mark still wasn’t home. She knew he wouldn’t be, he’d been contracted, shooting a movie...somewhere. Ridiculous hours. And the second he came home in the morning, he’d go straight to bed, and sleep through the day till he left again to continue filming.

Leaving Celine alone 99% of the time.

It wasn’t his fault. She knew that. He loved her, and she loved him. But she was just so tired. Tired of spending her days alone in the massive manor with no one to keep her company. She’d brought up getting a pet, once, to Mark, but his immediate reaction of the face he pulled and him fretting over his suits with possible animal hair getting all over them was an obvious no. Celine tried not to show how disappointed she was, and Mark had tried to comfort her, to cheer her up, but it was all empty words as she was left alone once more.

And again.

And again.

She craved to be held, to be touched, to be kissed. She just wanted to be loved. She knew Mark loved her. She knew that. But it was hard to feel loved when she barely saw him for months on end, and their limited interaction was Celine desperately trying to strike up conversation while Mark brushed her off with exhaustion heavy in his voice and collapsed into bed.

She’d read the entire library twice now, in attempt to pass the time. Lost herself in worlds and relationships that weren’t real, which made her chest ache as the loneliness grew. She baked. She cooked. Food that was never eaten, the she couldn’t eat all herself, and was left to spoil. She just wanted affection, physical affection, acknowledgement, something more than what she was getting!

Was that really too much to ask?

She sighed as the clock struck 7:00am, the time passing so agonizingly slowly, each second a year, and forced her weary, leaden body out of bed, to the kitchen, to make a breakfast she didn’t need to share. She still always made a second helping, in case Mark was ever less tired when he came home, if he ever wanted to actually sit down with her, his wife, and spend time with her. But, so far, he never did. And Celine always ended up setting the plate out in the garden for any animals that desired to visit to eat.

When the doorbell rang, Celine was sitting alone at the table, and a little surprised Mark was home so early. It was usually another hour at least. She got up, leaving her barely eaten and mostly picked at breakfast on the table to answer the door and let Mark in.

Only, it wasn’t Mark at the door.

Celine blinked, rearing back in surprise, before splitting into a happy smile. “Wil!” She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, and tried to suppress her shudder at how warm he was, at how good his arms felt wrapped around her as he held her back. She buried her face against his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes, and held back a sigh. “It’s good to see you again!”

William laughed, happily holding her tight and squeezing her a little before pulling back. Celine tried not to let her touch linger, but, well...she couldn’t help herself. He placed his hands on her shoulders, smiling warmly at her, and she could feel her heart ache and plead to hug him again, to be as close as possible, to get the affection she so desperately craved. “Well, this wasn’t a welcome I was expecting.” His mustache twitched into the beginnings of a smirk, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “It’s good to see you, too, Celine. It’s been far too long.” He glanced into the manor, letting go of her shoulder with one hand to push up his ridiculous glasses. Her skin felt so cold with the absence of his touch. “Is my brother home?”

Celine frowned and visibly slumped. “No, not yet. He’s shooting a new movie. Most of the shots need to be done at night, and well. He’ll be home soon, though.” She smiled again, taking his hands and leading him into the manor. “Come in! Have you eaten breakfast yet? I’ve just made some, it should still be warm!”

William laughed again, letting her lead him along with no complaint. Celine knew she was starved for human contact, but she didn’t realize just how bad it was until William arrived on her doorstep. She was loathe to physically part with him, even as she sat him down at the table, every touch lingering, her fingertips dragging across his shoulders, the back of his neck, as she moved to plate the breakfast she’d technically made for Mark. She set the plate down in front of him, and anxiety spiked up her spine when William frowned. “Wait -- isn’t this for Mark? Doesn’t he need breakfast, too?”

Celine waved her hand in vague dismissal, sitting down next to William and shifting her chair a little closer to him subtly, pulling her plate back in front of her. “Oh he’ll be fine. He doesn’t eat much at home these days. I hardly ever see him, to be quite honest. He just comes home in the morning, goes to bed, and disappears once night hits.” There was more than a little bitterness in her tone, no matter how much she tried to hide it, as she stabbed at her food with her fork.

William reached over, covering her hand with his own. “Well, that’s no good. That isn’t right, for him to treat you like that.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “You must be so lonely in this big house all by yourself. God knows Mark and I got lonely as kids, even with each other and the servants. Too big of house.”

Celine smiled at him again, though it was shaky, with tears pricking at her eyes, threatening to fall. She shifted her hand to hold his, squeezing back. “Oh I’m fine. It’s okay. I’m used to it by now. Though I do suppose I get a little bored.”

She tried for a laugh, though she knew William saw right through it. She continued to pick at her food, never actually eating it. Maybe the forest creatures wouldn’t go hungry today after all. William huffed, squeezing her hand again, before drawing back to eat his own breakfast. “Well, that simply won’t do. I’ll make it a point to visit more often, then. I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer than a couple hours today. I have...an appointment.” He cleared his throat, rubbing his right shoulder. He never liked to talk about his time at war. Celine never pushed. She didn’t think it was fair to. But even still, it wasn’t hard to figure out he’s been shot at least once through his shoulder, with the way it acted up and he had difficulty reaching upwards with that arm. And once, Celine had accidentally caught him with his shirt off, applying some salve to another healing bullet wound just under his ribs, on his left. Neither ever brought it up.

Celine cleared her throat, finally spearing a piece of egg onto her fork and lifting it to her mouth. “So, have you talked to Damien recently? He never answers when I try to call.”

William nodded, smiling a bit again. “Yes, just the other day, in fact! Poor sod is so busy, he looked like he was in the middle of three crises at once. Forced him to sit down and have a bit of drink with me, and he seemed marginally calmer.” He grinned. “He’s made a new friend in his office. A District Attorney, it looks like. They’re the one keeping his head from spinning off his shoulders.”

Celine laughed, genuinely this time, and rolled her eyes affectionately. “He’s never been good with stress. Why he decided to run for mayor I’ll never know.”

William snorted. “He’s brilliant at it, though. The city is definitely in better shape than with the last mayor. He left the place little more than a rundown shithole.”

Celine choked on her eggs with her laughter, covering her mouth her hand in a poor attempt to stifle her giggling. William laughed as well, before leaving back in his chair and stretching. Celine couldn’t help but watch. William and Mark may be adopted siblings, but they still looked so much alike somehow. She missed Mark, missed her husband desperately, and William always made nice company, but all he did in this moment was remind her of the hole in her chest.

She didn’t know when her laughter turned to tears. She just knew that in one moment she was laughing along with her childhood friend, and in the next painful sobs were being wrenched from her chest, and William was pulling her close in comfort, practically into his lap, and Celine might’ve blushed were she not so utterly desperate for the contact, so completely touch-starved that every slight brush of William’s skin on hers made her skin tingle and burn. He was so warm, and she clung to him, pressing as close as possible, face hidden against his throat as she sobbed and cried.

William whispered soothing words of comfort into her ear, rubbing her back, his other arms wrapped around her waist. He let Celine cry, let her hold onto him with no complaint. And even when Celine’s tears dried, she made no move to let go of him, pressing as close as possible, trembling in his hold. They were silent, save William humming something low in his chest, voice deep, sending soothing vibrations through Celine akin to a cat’s purr, and she relaxed, slowly, before tensing up again and she tried to nestle closer. Her voice was still thick and cracked with her emotion. “...When do you have to leave?”

William sighed, resting his cheek against her hair. “Not for a while yet. Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Celine nodded idly, making a small noise. Time passed quickly, with William here. She didn’t want him to leave at all. She didn’t want to let go. She wanted to stay here, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, till she fell asleep.

But, the doorbell rang again, and Celine reluctantly got up to let Mark in, William trailing after her. As always, she tried for a smile at the sight of her husband, kissing his cheek. As always, Mark looked exhausted, stage makeup smudged, heavy bags under his eyes. And -- as always -- he brushed her off, immediately retreating to the bedroom to sleep. He didn’t even notice William standing behind her. And Celine was left standing by the open front door, trying to hold back tears once more, as her shoulders dropped and she bowed her head.

A hand was laid on her shoulder, and she spun around, tears trailing down her cheeks without her entirely noticing. That is, until William cupped her face in both hands, brushing them away with his thumbs. “...I’ll make it a point to visit more often,” he said, voice soft. He smiled a bit, mustache twitching again in that adorable way. “Hopefully, I can try and ease your loneliness.”

Celine said nothing, just wrapped her arms around him in another hug, cheek pressed to his chest, and closed her eyes as William’s arms enveloped her.

[miafic]

one ~ two ~ three ~ four

Lucas had been overprotective of Zakk all week, to the point where he was kind of acting like a mother hen. And, for some reason, Zakk let it happen. He’d only protest once - “I feel fine” - before giving in and letting Lucas bring him a glass of water or rub his feet or even take a day off to stay home with him. That’s how afraid Lucas was; he managed to tear himself away from work. And it wasn’t really even that hard. 

They spent most of the day lying side by side in bed. They watched TV and talked and had sex a couple of times, slow and gentle and loving. They showered together, and Lucas took his time massaging shampoo into Zakk’s hair and then helping Zakk rinse it out. Then Lucas held him, both of them standing with half of their body beneath the spray, until the water went from hot to lukewarm. 

It had been a long, emotional, terrifying week for both of them. “Are you in any pain?” Lucas would ask. Or maybe, “Are your joints okay?” They’d cut pizza, beef, and popcorn out of their diets and instead started eating lots of asparagus and fish and small fruits like raspberries and blueberries - whatever Lucas had found online during his google searches for food that was good for your kidneys. 

The night before the follow-up was scheduled, Lucas had barely been able to sleep. He was wrapped around Zakk, holding him, watching the numbers on the digital clock creep forward. 

Zakk turned over in the middle of the night and burrowed into Lucas’ chest. Lucas squeezed him tighter and kissed his head at least ten times before finally falling asleep around 3:30. The alarm went off at 5:15. 

“Are you sure you want me to go to work?” Lucas whispered. 

Zakk nodded. “I’ll be fine,” came his slow, tired reply. 

Lucas kissed him, got up, and got dressed. He spent several minutes brushing his hair out and getting his bun just right, and when he went back out to say goodbye, Zakk was, as usual, asleep. Lucas pressed their foreheads together for a long moment while he said a silent prayer. Then he kissed Zakk’s relaxed lips and slipped out of the room. 

---

The morning wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but truth be told, it felt a little like hell. 

Lucas went into the house, greeted the aide, and went to wake the boys up. “Good morning! Rise and shine!” he called, forcing as much of a smile as he could. He was met with one sleepy, “Lucaaaaaas!” but otherwise just grumbles and complaints. 

Breakfast was simple - cereal and milk - and then the kids cleaned up and spent the rest of their time in the game room. Two of them got into it over foosball, which meant that Lucas had to intervene before the arguing and yelling turned into something worse, but once the issue was settled, it was settled. 

Brendon and Ryan showed up a few minutes early, and Lucas passed the kids off to them as soon as they walked in the door. He had half a mind to collapse onto the couch for a nap, but he knew that despite having already completed the meal schedules through the next three months in an effort to stave off his anxiety, he had work to do. Chore charts needed to be made, emails needed to be sent, and he still needed to find a service project for the kids to do the following week. 

Despite his long to-do list, he accidentally nodded off at his desk and jolted awake twenty minutes later, a feeling of guilt washing over him. Still, he grabbed for his phone to make sure that Zakk hadn’t texted. He hadn’t. Lucas opened their message and sent, Thinking of you, and a sunshine emoji. There was no response, but it wasn’t even 8:30 AM. Zakk was probably still sleeping. 

Lucas threw himself back into planning. Controlling what he could. Mapping out something stable. When his phone dinged forty minutes later, he about jumped out of his skin. 

“Zakk,” he breathed as he saw the name on the display. He hurried to unlock the phone and read the message - I love you baby. One more hour and then either way we’ll know something.

Yeah, Lucas wrote back immediately. I love you too. Hopefully they’ll call soon. 

Zakk didn’t say anything back. Lucas resumed his work.

---

“Zakk’s hoooome!” one of the boys declared as Zakk pulled into the driveway. 

“Zakk! Zakk! Zakk!” another kid started chanting, but luckily, it didn’t catch on. 

Lucas herded the kids into the dining room so that they could start their lunch, but he hung back, watching as Zakk came in through the kitchen. Not wanting to seem too eager or to make Zakk anxious, he wandered out of the kitchen and toward the entry of the house. 

Zakk, of course, went to greet the kids first thing. Lucas couldn’t really tell what his mood was, but he did hear him ask, “Do you guys know where Lucas is?”

“I’m out here,” Lucas replied, voice raised a little so Zakk would hear him from the distance. 

Zakk came around the corner, and Lucas gave him a stressed smile. 

“Hey,” Lucas said. “Do you wanna go in the office?” 

“No, but I wondered if you could do something for me.” Zakk’s face was serious as he looked up at Lucas.

“Anything.” 

“Could you stop by the pharmacy on your way home? They prescribed me some antibiotics.” 

Lucas’ mouth fell open and quickly transformed into a wide smile. “Yes!” he half-shouted. “Yes, I would-” He cut himself off and grabbed Zakk in a tight hug. “I would love to do that for you. I would love to pick up antibiotics for you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed in relief. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Zakk laughed fondly, embracing Lucas just as tightly. “I’m sorry for not calling; I just wanted to see your face,” Zakk confessed.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you were here for me to hug.” 

Zakk chuckled. “Me, too.” 

“What’s going on?” the chanting kid asked. He was standing in the archway with his roommate at his side, watching Lucas and Zakk hug. 

They both straightened up, but they didn’t rush. (They knew that would only make them look suspicious.) 

“We got some good news,” Lucas smiled. He nudged Zakk with his elbow and said, “Let’s go in the office for a second.” To the boys, he said, “You’re always complaining that you’re hungry. Go eat.” 

Lucas and Zakk walked together into the office, and Lucas shut the door behind them. “So you’re okay?” he asked almost pleadingly, taking Zakk’s hands. “You’re really okay?” 

“Yeah. They said it was a UTI that didn’t have any symptoms other than - remember how I was so tired a couple weeks ago?”

Lucas nodded.

“That’s apparently a symptom of what I had. It’s called a ‘silent UTI.’ And because it wasn’t treated, bacteria went up into my kidneys and was causing problems. If I hadn’t been to the doctor, and if I kept not showing symptoms, it could have eventually killed me.” 

Lucas shook his head, shocked. “Wow.” 

“I know.” Zakk fell into his chest, and Lucas hugged him tightly. 

“I love you so much,” Lucas whispered to him. “I love you, I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

They shared a kiss and then another long embrace. 

“I’m gonna be okay,” Zakk said happily.

“Yeah,” Lucas breathed. He gave Zakk a squeeze.

“When’s the last time you went to the doctor?” Zakk asked, and Lucas snorted before he could stop himself.

“What?” Zakk asked, pulling back.

“Uh, nothing, just... it’s been a while.” 

“How long is a while? You never talk about it.” 

Lucas looked away and shrugged.

Zakk made a soft noise of disapproval. “Well, we need to get you an appointment somewhere. I don’t want what happened to me happening to you. Or if something’s already happening, we need to know sooner rather than later.”  

“No, that���s okay.” 

Zakk blinked. “What?” 

“I’m not going to the doctor. I’m fine.” 

“You actually have a lot of stuff going on I’d like to ask about, so...”

Lucas shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Lucas,” Zakk said, confusion and hurt written across his face. “I just told you I could have died. And you won’t go to the doctor? Just one appointment?” 

“Nope.” 

The hurt was replaced with anger. “Why?”

“Because I don’t like going.” 

“Well, too bad. You’re going.” 

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are. I will make you an appointment and drag you there myself.”

“No, you won’t, because I’m really not going,” Lucas said with a laugh. The computer made a dinging sound that signaled that he’d just gotten an email, so he turned away from the conversation. “You should go eat. There’s a wrap for you on the counter.” 

Zakk was quiet for several seconds. Then he said, “Come eat with me.” 

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“To eat?”

“No, but I’ll sit with you.” 

Zakk sighed. “You need to eat. You need to take better care of yourself. You need to go to the doctor. It’s not a debate, Lucas; you’re going.”

“It’s not a debate, and I’m not going.” Before Zakk could protest again, he said, “I love you, and I am so glad that you’re okay, and I’m really happy that they caught the problem before it got bad. But I’m not going to the doctor. Let’s just celebrate you today, okay?” 

“We’re talking about this later,” Zakk warned.

Lucas gave him a halfhearted grin. As soon as the door was closed, though, he let the smile drop. Lucas wasn’t going to the doctor, no matter what Zakk said. No fucking way.

[amour-de-tous]

Finally, the update on my health

TW: lots and lots and lots of talk about health, and bad health, in particular, below.  So I know I never really updated everyone on What Was (is) Going On With My Health. It’s been a huge mess, and I run out of spoons every day just trying to eat meals at the right times to take my meds.  Shortest version possible (believe it or not): at the end of May last year, 2019, pretty much all my joints and extremities swelled up unbelievably. Like I couldn’t put my feet on the floor because they were so swollen it felt like the skin would split open. I had to sit in a chair all day with my feet elevated on a stool and pillows just to keep them from continuing to swell, and I had to sleep with pillows under my feet to keep them from swelling more during the night. I say “sleep” loosely, because I was getting about an hour to two hours of very interrupted sleep every night. The swelling was so bad that just to leave my chair where my feet were elevated, and go sit at the table to eat meals, my feet would swell so bad it was hard for me to walk from the table back to my chair. Then my hands started going numb and tingly, but not in a “my hands are asleep” kind of way, but more an “this is excruciatingly painful but I still can’t feel my hands” kind of way. I couldn’t close my hands into a fist, and I couldn’t open my hands either, they were frozen in a sort of half curled position. There were several weeks where I couldn’t hold a fork or spoon to feed myself. There were months upon months were I couldn’t brush or wash my hair by myself. I spent months with my hands/wrists/feet/ankles packed in ice every 20 minutes to try to control the swelling. I also had this awful brain fog situation where I couldn’t focus on anything. Even if I had been able to hold a book, tablet, or phone (which I couldn’t, because my hands were so bad), I couldn’t read because I had absolutely zero concentration or focus or comprehension. Even watching TV was almost impossible because I would zone out and come back to awareness and so much time had passed I’d have no idea what was going on. I literally spent three or four months just sitting in that chair in pain, staring at the ceiling, crying on and off. So, so much more below the cut.

I could barely attend my niece and nephews baptism. We were there for as long as it took for the actual service to happen, and while I tried to stay for the meal and gifts and such, I was in such excruciating pain--and using a cane to even be able to walk--that we had to leave early.  My niece’s 4th birthday was a few weeks later, in late June, and again I was there with a cane and in excruciating pain. I’m my niece’s favourite person and having to tell her Auntie couldn’t get down and play with her, or hold her, was terrible. By the end of June, my PCP had run enough tests to be outside his area of knowledge and referred me out to a rheumatologist. The earliest the one I wanted to see could see me was January. This was the first week of July. So I looked around for whoever could see me first and chose them. The soonest someone could see me was, unfortunately, on my birthday last year, July 15th. So I spent my birthday seeing the rheumatologist, being diagnosed with carpal tunnel, tendinitis, and what he suspected was rheumatoid arthritis. Once I left his office, I spent my birthday getting bloodwork (8 vials, yikes, which continued monthly for the remainder of 2019), and then getting fitted for a set of wrist braces that I would have to sleep in for maybe the rest of my life, and wear during the day when the pain was so bad. The rheumatologist literally said to me “well, none of your labwork confirms this and we don’t really know, but we’re gonna treat you as if you had rheumatoid arthritis”. Although he kept running tests to try to confirm the RA, he didn’t look anywhere else to try and figure out what I actually have. So they started me on medication(s), and referred me to occupational therapy and physical therapy. I was so bad when I started going that my PT consisted of sitting in a chair and (trying) to flex my ankles in different directions, and then a lymph massage to try to reduce swelling. My occupational therapy, when I started, consisted of trying to pick up pieces of sponges and put them in a cup. I was so bad that was actually almost impossible for me. They also referred me out to have a nerve conduction test, where they stuck needles all through my arms and electrified them. It was the worst thing ever, let me tell you. Then I got referred to a hand surgeon (who is lovely, actually) for surgery. He decided to hold off on surgery and see if steroid shots would help (they did, to an extent, and I am so grateful for that). Fast forwards through months and months of testing and bloodwork and physical and occupational therapies and medications, and the swelling had reduced enough that I could stand up or walk to the bathroom or eat dinner without swelling up so bad anymore. Being at PT and OT still meant I came home and had to pack my feet and wrists in ice and elevate to take care of the extra swelling, but it was better. Not good, not right, but better. Fast forward more, still, and it’s December. At that point I could stand long enough to help cook dinner, or even run an errand or two before I was in too much pain and had to sit and elevate again. In mid-March they released me from PT and OT. Not because I was better--I still couldn’t (and can’t, now) bend my wrists at all--but because the prescription had run out. I’d basically used all the allotted amount I had. This ended up being alright in the long run, since aside from one trip to the lab for bloodwork, I haven’t left my house since my last day of OT on March 13th, due to Covid. Turns out having an auto-immune disease and being on immunosuppresants makes you REAL high risk for Covid, and I’m just not playing that game. At the beginning of April, I finally got to see the rheumatologist I WANTED to see all along (via video visit! Didn’t even have to leave my house and be exposed!). She’s awesome and is really set on finding an ACTUAL diagnosis for me and not just saying “we don’t know”. Had 9 vials taken from me in her first round of bloodwork, and then she said it looked like it could be Lupus and did more tests. She’s now pretty certain I DON’T have Lupus OR rheumatoid arthritis. I had an appointment with her at the very end of July (video, again), and it turns out she thinks I have something called sarcoidosis. This is going to require a CT scan, for my lungs and heart, to see if the disease is in them. Evidently with this particular auto-immune disease, your body overreacts and encapsulates what it thinks are dangerous foreign bodies (but really are just part of your own immune system) and creates “granulomas” around them. Basically think of an oyster creating a pearl around an invading body, except in this case instead of pearls, I have lumps of stuff that hurts me.  Horrifying to know I have to walk into a hospital at this point in time, of my own free will. Like I said before, aside from one set of bloodwork, I haven’t been exposed or been out where I could be exposed at ALL. All that goes out the window once I walk into a hospital for a CT scan. :\ After the CT scan, depending on the results, there’s other tests I’ll need. Chest x-rays, EKGs, pulmonary function tests, lung biopsies (YIKES) and others. She seems fairly confident that this is the correct diagnosis for me, but wants confirmation and also to see progression of disease.  At any rate, she’ll be changing my medication. Which sucks for so many reasons, not the least of which is I just picked up 360 tablets of it that I now won’t be taking. :| Also the fact that now I get to try a new medication and do the “am I having side effects or am I just anxious” song and dance. She’s also talking about needing to put me on steroids which I am REALLY unhappy about. I suppose it’s better to go on steroids than to die, but I’m still really unhappy about it. In other, related news, I’ve developed hypercalcemia. Which means there’s too much calcium in my blood, which can cause a HOST of other problems. So I’ve been put on a no-dairy, low calcium diet. Do you know how many items have calcium in them? Almost everything, that’s what. Also, they fortify all the non-dairy “milk” products with calcium. They all have as much or MORE calcium than dairy milk. It’s been a NIGHTMARE, to the point where I’m actually afraid of food now. I’m obsessively reading labels and doing research online. “How much calcium is in 81 grams of kiwi, after all?”. Nightmare. Dairy was my #1 love and foodgroup, and having to suddenly figure out all new things to eat and ways to cook while simultaneously being in pain and *exhausted* 24/7 because auto-immune is not. fun. at. all. It’s already all my energy every day to help make, eat, and clean up a meal. I literally have to sit in my chair after a meal with my feet elevated to recover. Now having to spend all this energy on a whole new diet plan is a nightmare. Basically this whole thing has been a MESS. It’s been 15 months, I’ve been being treated for the wrong disease for 14 months, the news I’m getting now is worse than the news that flattened my emotional response all those months ago, I still can’t function, and I can���t work. Oh, yeah. I haven’t played an instrument since May 2019. My whole life revolved around my music, and now I can’t even play to make myself feel better, because my hands don’t work. I’ve also been out of work since then, too: my last concert was April 2019. I haven’t made any money since. But I have had co-pays out the wazoo! Which reminds me that they raised the price on two of my meds, because of course they did. Thanks, congress. This has been really, really hard. My anxiety has skyrocketed through this, and my depression isn’t doing much better. Although physically I’m not as bad as I was, I’m nowhere near normal, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to my normal again, either. The best I’m hoping for at this point is to be able to eat calcium again someday, to not have my organs eaten up by this disease, and to continue existing. It’s been exhausting. It really, really has.  That’s not to mention the added stress and anxiety over Covid, and the fact that neither mom nor I can even go to a grocery store because of my high-risk status. We’re averaging getting groceries about once a month right now. It’s super fun now because I have to read the label on EVERYTHING but Aldi doesn’t post their nutrition labels online and!!! That means I have to either guess or not get things! Great!  All this to say that I miss being on tumblr. I miss all my friends here. I miss talking to you all and being able to laugh with you and geek out. Things have been really hard for me (and there are multitudes I haven’t included in here; even if my hands would allow that much typing, I’d probably hit a character limit. Just: I miss you all. I love you. I’ve been a wreck, but I think of you all often. <3

[miss-tc-nova]

The Cat’s Meow - Jumin Han x Fem!Reader Pt 17-Finale

Okay, look, I know the first half of this is kind of...Anyway! Maybe not my best ending, but I giggled writing it so there. I promise that the bonus chapter coming out tomorrow will be better. 

Part 17: Thank You/Finale

                Grumbling, I flop into the chair and let my head fall onto the table. The chair beside me moves and, with a grumble, Saeran sits and lets his forehead meet the table as well.

                Things went a little crazy in the hospital following the incident with Rika. Out of it came Saeran, Luciel’s, or rather, Saeyoung’s brother who’d been manipulated by Rika. He’d caused havoc his first night at the hospital, but had come around to understand Luciel’s true intentions and Rika’s misdirection. He came to apologize to me the following day and we actually get along pretty well, taking on the suffering together in cynicism. We’re only a week in, with the doctor stating it may not even be the halfway mark.

                “You too, huh?” I mumble, feeling the deep-set ache in my muscles.

                “I considered cocaine today,” he groans. “But Saeyoung said I had to find it myself and I’m too tired for that shit.”

                I laugh a bit, turning my head to look at him. “Jumin’s making every employee remove all cigarettes and medications from the C&R building. I think he’s even put all his wine in storage.”

                Saeran lets his head fall to the side, giving me a suspicious look. “...None of that would work for our withdrawals.”

                “I know...”

                “Aww, look at our little druggies sulking together!” Saeyoung teases, sitting across from us. He’s also become a bit brighter since everyone’s been working to get him out of his secret agent job.

                “_____, are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jumin asks, resting a hand on my back.

                “Mmmeth.”

                Saeran starts snickering.

                Jumin replies in a warning tone, “_____.”

                Giggling, I push myself off the table. “I know. Meth is expensive.”

                “_____, get your facts straight. Cocaine is the expensive one,” Saeran says, earning a frown from Jumin.            

                “It’s not that price that’s the problem,” Jumin states.

                Still chuckling, I play with the end of his sleeve and look up at him. “I’m just kidding. I could really use a water though.”

                His stern expression softens and the heir leans in to kiss my forehead. “Very well.”

                We quietly watch him go before Saeyoung adds, “You know he’d probably find you meth if you were truly desperate for it.”

                “Noooo...Couple months ago, maybe. But definitely not now.”

                “But we have withdrawals now,” whines Saeran.

                Reaching out, I half-heartedly take his hand in comfort. “Be strong, Sae! We will overcome this!”

                He’s not impressed. “I hate you so fucking much right now.” Even he can’t keep a straight face through his insult.

                “I see non-druggie Sae likes to swear.”

                “He has no respect for my innocent ears!” Saeyoung complains.

                “You were watching porn last night!” shouts Saeran.

                Saeyoung points a finger at his brother. “It was holy porn.”

                “Holy porn, my ass!”

                By now, I’m lying on the table crying from laughing so hard. That’s when the rest of the group finally enters the room.

                “Hey guys!” Yoosung greets. “Oh wow, you guys look awful.”

                “Shut it, blondie,” I retort, sitting up and wiping my eyes. Jumin passes me a water bottle. “Thanks sweetheart.”

                “Hello Saeyoung, Saeran, _____,” V greets, Zen pushing him in a wheelchair. Not only was he still miraculously recovering from the gunshot, but also the eye surgery Jumin finally convinced him to have.

                Now the situation with V was much more strenuous than making friends with Saeran; I had killed the woman he loved. Honestly, the moment I could walk on my own and was allowed to see him, I fell to pieces, sobbing and begging for his forgiveness. The man assured me multiple times that it wasn’t my fault but I know it still hurts him. Still, even if I will always feel the guilt, he doesn’t outwardly hold it against me.

                He pushes a tray onto the table. “I brought treats for everyone.”

                Saeran apparently hasn’t had enough of our shenanigans. “Is it drugs?”

                Poor V is so confused. “I-...What?”

                “Sae! No one is going to bring you cocaine!” I exclaim, slamming a hand on the table.

                The room is silent for a minute before Saeran breaks, laughing. “I hate you so much.”

                I lean back heavily in my chair, staring at V. “But seriously, what’dyu bring?”

                “Uh, I brought cookies.”

                “Yay,” I whisper loudly.

                Saeran and I are the first to partake. Cravings and increased appetite are withdrawal symptoms; that combined with the fact that Saeran and I both naturally have a sweet tooth, we’re sugar monsters.

                Jaehee sits down, looking concerned. “Though you two do seem to be suffering from serious withdrawals. Are you going to be alright? Are you going to therapy or counseling or anything? I read somewhere that people suffering from withdrawals often relapse without secondary treatment.”

                “Dis is mah ferapy,” Sae replies through half a cookie.

                Saeyoung speaks up, “He’s meeting someone on Friday.”

                Jumin folds his arms. “And _____ has an appointment next week.”

                I huff. “I’m telling you, I don’t need a therapist. My addiction didn’t come from voluntary use so what’s a therapist gonna do? Tell me not to take any more drugs? That’s great ‘cause Sae won’t make me any anyway!” I glare when my boyfriend takes my cookie away.

                “Don’t look at me,” Saeran growls. “I wasn’t part of the group that made the elixir. The bathtub would be full if I knew how to make it. We’d probably just poison ourselves trying to replicate the stuff.”

                I grumble, “So, much to our dismay, Saeran and I will not be relapsing.” I reach for another cookie. “We are, however, scouting new substances to abuseTHAT’S MY COOKIE!” I snap at Jumin, who’s taken the fourth from me.

                “Substance of choice? Sugar,” hums Saeyoung.

                “You’re going to that appointment. And you’ll just complain later if you keep eating all these sweets,” Jumin replies, not bothered at all.

                Grumbling, I fold my arms. “I’m complaining now.”

                “Also, it’s polite to share and Saeran has already taken the extras.” He passes off the cookie to Yoosung while pointing out the pile Sae is hoarding. The former-cultist pulls his stash closer to his seat when he catches me staring. We glare.

                “Dammit.”

                V clears his throat. “Alright, sugar and withdrawals aside, I’d like to begin the first official meeting of…of…Did we ever decide on a new name?”

                “We did not,” Jaehee replies.

                “Oh, well then I guess that’s the agenda of our first meeting. Would anyone like to make any suggestions?”

                Jumin raises his hand. “Jumin Han, we are not naming the new organization after me,” I growl. He puts his hand down before raising it again. “Or either of the cats.” Hand goes down.

                From there, the brainstorming goes on and on until it comes down to Sunrise Charity, mostly because V didn’t want it to be called VFA, which is fair enough. After discussing some dates for the inaugural charity party, we end the meeting there and Jumin takes me home, and I mean my home.

                “Mako, I’m home!” I sing. The fold comes padding out to greet us with his chirping. Jumin kneels down to scratch behind his ears. “That took longer than I thought it would. I should start working on dinner.”

                “I could have something ordered,” offers Jumin.

                “No. I’m a big girl. I can cook for myself.” I eye him for a minute. “Can you even make anything edible?”

                He thinks for a moment. “Pancakes.”

                I gasp, hanging against him with my arm around his neck. “You should make me pancakes in the morning.”

                An embrace that brings comfort engulfs me. “Is that what you want?”

                “Yes. Also, maybe…” Supporting myself, I trace the pattern on his tie. “You could spend the night?”

                I’ll admit it, since the incident, being alone has been a bit distressing. I’ve gotten over a lot of my withdrawal symptoms while recovering in the hospital, but there are a few that still plague me. My first night home, I woke up in a sweat my first night home and didn’t go back to sleep. Jumin made a point of staying on the phone with me until I fell asleep after that.

                “Do you think we’re ready for that?” He’s concerned.

                I scrunch my nose at him. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me in my sloppy pajamas and bed-head?”

                “Yes.”

                My shoulders droop. “Wow. Okay. Maybe we aren’t ready for that.”

                Jumin’s forehead rests against mine. “If it’s what you want, I’ll spend the night. It might be tough, but I’ll practice my restraint.”

                I sigh. “I don’t want to push it.”

                “Perhaps we should. How will we ever get anywhere if we don’t try?” He chuckles. “Besides, even if I do end up pushing it too far, you’ll just threaten me with a knife.”

                I hide my face in his chest. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

                “You threatened the life of a high-profile corporate heir.” A gentle hand beneath my chin encourages me to look up. “I promise; I’ll keep myself under control. Do you still want me to stay?”

                “Please?”

                I receive a kiss to my brow. “Very well. But first I need to run to the office to sign some documents and stop by my home for some things.”

                “Okay. I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.”

                With a kiss goodbye, Jumin heads out and I change into sweats and a t-shirt before I prepare food. Before long, he returns with a small bag.

                “How was the office?” I ask, stirring the pasta.

                “It was fine. Just needed a signature so we can begin analysis on the coffee chain tomorrow.”

                “Ew…”

                “Yes. Ew.”

                I giggle. “Well dinner’s almost done. You should go change.”

                He glances at the suit he didn’t change out of. “You want me to change?”

                “Yes! Look at this!” I pick up a magazine from ages ago that had a page of Jumin lounging in the sun in a t-shirt with a blue over shirt. “I know you own normal clothes and I demand you wear them more!”

                A corner of his mouth quirks. “Demand, huh?”

                “Yes! Especially if you’re going to be lazy with me!”

                Apparently, I amuse him. “I see.”

                “And I swear to god, if your pajamas are some ridiculous matched set they wear in comedy family movies, I’m going to have to seriously reconsider this relationship!”

                A hand feebly covers up the laugh he’s trying to contain. “So…*ahem* So I should probably go then?”

                “Are you serious?! What are you, twelve?!”

                “I sincerely hope not or you’re at serious risk of going to prison for romancing a minor.” I glare. “Also, can we discuss why you have a magazine from last year with that page dog-eared?”

                I turn back to the stove in an attempt to hide my blush. “Shut up and go get ready for dinner.”

                Sure of his victory, Jumin ambles away. With two bowls in hand, I get comfortable in the living room when in walks that man in a gray t-shirt and sweats. The bit of water in my mouth goes right back out.

                “Where did you get those?!” I shout, temperature rising.

                His smirk signals that he’s still playing with me. “I’ve had these for a while now.”

                “And yet you lounge around in slacks and a dress shirt?” I retort, picking up my bowl. “I’m going to corrupt you with my laziness.”

                “We’ll see.”

                Throughout dinner, I can’t help my wandering gaze every time I let up the reins on my brain; I begin zoning out and my eyes immediately drift to Jumin. Not only am I very much addicted to how he looks being casual for once, but the fact he’s here to spend time with me as my boyfriend is a nice thought.

                “Are you okay?” he’s caught me.

                “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

                His brows furrow. “Are your hands numb again?”

                The question draws my attention to my hands that I’ve been flexing mindlessly, trying to work through the pins and needles. This is part of my recovery, part of the withdrawal. “Yeah, but it’ll pass.”

                Jumin takes a hand and beings gently massaging my palm with his thumbs. He’s been doing things like this since I woke up. The nausea was terrible the first few days and he was there to endure it with me. The lights and volume were turned down when they became too much. He even fed me a few times when my hands would shake so much I couldn’t do it myself. I hate it but at the same time, I’m so thankful to have someone here looking after me.

                “How’s that?” he asks.

                I test my movement. Most of the foreign sensation is gone. “A lot better. Thanks.” Jumin suddenly pulls me against him and leans against me until I collapse onto the sofa. “What are you doing?”

                Jumin hovers over me, grazing his nose against mine. “I wanted to cuddle with my girlfriend.”I’m positive he can feel the heat radiating from my face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” his deep voice rumbles.

                “No,” I say softly.

                “Good.” The man wedges his hands beneath me before relaxing on top of me, his head resting against my chest. Once he’s comfortable, he gives a very satisfied, content sigh. Adjusting to my cuddly partner, I settle in to watch the movie while running my fingers through his soft hair. It doesn’t take long for me to hear a deep, steady breathing. Seeing this man, whose entire wardrobe consists ninety percent of suits, who’s known for living high class, who’s always been the ever-vigilant business man; seeing him here in my tiny home, in a t-shirt, and fast asleep upsets the butterflies in my stomach.

                The movie ends and I have to come to terms with the fact that I need to use the bathroom and that requires disturbing Jumin. I savor the sight for just a moment longer before attempting to wake him.

                “Jumin. Sweetheart, get up.”Groaning, he tightens his grip. “Jumin, stop! I need to pee!”

                Flinching, the man props himself up. “What? What’s wrong?” he grumbles.

                “I need to use the bathroom, but maybe you should go to bed if you’re so tired.”

                Jumin sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

                I slip off the sofa and reach out to brush some hair from his eyes. “It’s fine. It is getting late though; you should go to bed.”

                The man stands up too. “Only if you join me.”

                Rolling my eyes, I let a smile pull at my lips. “Alright. Let me shut everything down. Go on; go get ready for bed.”

                Once the bathroom problem is solved, I shut down the movie and clean up a bit. Ambling into the bedroom, I find my boyfriend sitting on the bed, providing Mako with enough ear scritches to get the motor running. Interrupting the bonding, I sneak my way onto Jumin’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. The response is a soft, reverent kiss in return that puts me under his spell almost immediately. For a while, I bask in the comfort of Jumin’s presence and the love he emits. My muscles ache, my head is full of dull pain, sometimes pins and needles overtake my hands, and sometimes I can’t sleep, but right here I get complete solace.

                Jumin groans and breaks the kiss. “You’re tempting me, love,” he says lowly, and I can see the lust alight in his eyes.

                “Says the man who made it much easier for me to strip him down,” I hum, slipping a hand beneath the hem of his shirt against his abs. I immediately notice the pink bleed across his face and the passion flare up. I nearly tear his shirt trying to rip my hand out. “No! Wait! I take it back!”

                He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “How cruel you are.”

                “Eheh, sorry. We should go to sleep now.”

                I flip the lights and sneak under the covers with Jumin. An arm snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. With a bit of a giggle, I hook a leg over his waist and latch onto him. The musky sweet scent accompanied by the warmth of his presence quickly envelopes me and I feel like I could just melt.

                It’s been only a couple years since I met Jumin Han, and my life since then has been everything except perfect, but all the seems so far away now. The tears, fears, worries, none of that matters now. I have the love of my life in my arms; we struggled and suffered so much to get here, but we can finally be happy. I can finally give him everything without getting in my own way. The relief is so overwhelming I could cry, but instead I just revel in the peace.

                On the exhale, I hum.

                “What’s wrong?” he asks.

                “Nothing. I’m just…happy,” I reply, resting my forehead against his chest. “Thank you for staying. And thank you for taking care of me.”

                His arms tighten briefly. “I already told you, I would do anything for you,” he murmurs into my hair.

                “I love you.”

                “I love you too.”

[brokenfoetus]

...Real Talk for a Moment....

This is gonna be a long rant post, so by all means... quickly scroll past. Parts may even be a tad emo feels for some folks for one reason or another... There’s no shame in skipping for reals.  A lot of days I can’t bother to read anything too in depth... anyway... HERE goes.... While I absolutely love art, and performance, and surreal awkward characterization of myself I call “THE END”. I also value truth, and being understood. My blog here started more as a journal for me to vent, and place to post music and art for me to look at in order to try and just relax during a very difficult point in my life. Every now and then I like to stop and ground myself and post in a sense about the actual me.  There’s frankly not anything magical here, everyone has a story and their experiences and struggles we all do no matter who you are. I suppose like I said, I just like to be understood where I am coming from typically can only be slightly grasped like anyone.  Even if you agree with views and relate to feelings, things become clearer with details.... hence my rants. I get it out of my system and state my perspectives all at once and anyone who happens to be curious gets to read it. Maybe gets to relate and frankly that tends to help us sometimes. It helps people realize they’re not alone in their situations.  Anyway.... I was born a tiny premature gremlin on the east coast of the U.S. I was raised a devout Catholic boy. At age 11 I was diagnosed with the chronic illness Diabetes. when the symptoms started my mother called doctors concerned. We had to wait a full month for my appointment.  It was rough. Some people don’t know of the disease, but most people generally are aware. It typically doesn’t seem all too dramatic to most since people think of it as old grandma and grandpa taking their pills and measuring their food. When you’re talking juvenile onset diabetes it’s different... severity can vary. but, I caught some sort of virus, with flu like symptoms... I was very very sick for a week or two.  Once it passed, I was okay but slowly started feeling gross in other ways.  By the time we got to see Doctors it was too late, and the damage done to my pancreas made it so it created pretty much no insulin. The only theory Doctors had at the time was the virus freaked out my auto-immune system so it made my body attack itself.  It seemed that my white blood cells had attacked my pancreas. I was 11, so... I didn’t know what diabetes was. I asked my doctor if there was a cure, and he explained that there was no cure. My little boy brain after feeling so awful for a month and a half assumed I was going to die. I burst into tears as I was very very afraid. My Doctor quickly explained I wasn’t going to die like I had assumed and that it can be treated. It doesn’t seem so scary most the time when you realize it can be treated. The thing is the hormone insulin can be quite dangerous, as low blood sugars are actually very much more dangerous than high blood sugars. Insulin allows glucose in the blood to travel into cells to basically use as fuel. without it sugar levels rise in the blood stream, and the body starts rapidly breaking down fat cells to use as fuel. Now, that happens normal some anyway usually after eating. Just not rapidly.... when it does, the fuel it breaks down creates ketones which can make the blood toxic... by making it acidic.... Like I don’t really think... there’s any way I can describe what high blood sugar feels like... or what it feels like when your blood starts to become acidic.... I can’t... but... minor low blood sugar attacks can happen to anyone just by skipping lunch or forgetting to eat... and those suck... bad ones... well... they feel like you’re dying. Not to be melodramatic about it all... but that’s all I can say to explain it... it just feels like you’re dying.  Probably because you sort of are..... The brain runs on glucose so when the levels get too low... your brain panics and tries to save itself and alert you. It’s not fun. It’s been many years since I had anything dangerous or serious in terms of low blood sugars but, a couple times in my life when I wasn’t doing very well emotionally and mentally I wasn’t paying attention or being careful with my insulin dosages and how much I was eating. I’ve had 3 grand mal seizures in my life when I was younger.... it’s hard to explain the experience... in mine... I don’t know.... It was like not existing at all, there was nothing. I woke to pain, I couldn’t see or hear it just hurt. Everything hurt head to toe. Then I could hear myself saying it hurt, then I could hear the people around me, and then I could see the people around me.  Then I knew what had happened.  I felt a bit guilty for scaring my loved ones so much.  That honestly made me more upset than the pain. The reason I spell all this out... is my life has mostly been surrounded by fear. I’ve been aware of my mortality and trying to avoid dying on a daily basis since I was a very young boy. The strange thing I suppose.... is after a while... you just get sick of being afraid.... you kind of stop being scared and just get angry... I was a shy timid nervous little dude.... I’ve had long long times where... I’ve felt worthless, I’ve hated myself, felt I didn’t deserve happiness, or love. I’ve let people use me, without standing up for myself. I’ve let people be toxic and cruel, while excusing their behavior. While at the same time condemning myself for any tiny mistake I may have made in any way. I’ve made myself a martyr in personal relationships, sacrificing myself and my feelings. I’ve frankly... done a whole bunch of fucked up things turned inward. The nice thing I suppose, is I don’t do that anymore.... I still make mistakes, and I like to take responsibility for them and make amends or fix them. You can get used to some really fucked up things. Especially when struggling with self worth. I used to think I was useless and undeserving. Today... I’m well aware I’m a PRETTEH PRETTEH GOFF BOI.... I have long time close friends who love me just as much as I do them. I have a wonderful beautiful lovely lady who has my heart and soul whom I want to spend every moment I possibly can with until my bones are dust.  Who helped me a great deal over the past couple years or so.  Helped me with myself and helped me believe in myself again. Just by being my friend and supporting me while I continue to be the eccentric artist asshole I am. and I have Scrambles... THE MOST CUTEST BLACK KITTEH KAT EVAR. I feel rather lucky to have all I do. I appreciate what I have very very much. I’ve been dealing with Diabetes since I was 11... and had been dealing with Severe Major Depression symptoms since my early 20s. over the past five years I finally started getting help, Turns out I don’t just have diabetes.... I have adhd and some kind of sleep disorder. we’ve been calling it narcolepsy but it’s hard to say exactly, it could be hypersomnia which is a super fancy way of saying I’m fucking always exhausted 24/7 which is pretty accurate.  That is usually caused by narcolepsy or something else but... who knows... still trying to figure that part out. I have discovered though that, being fucking exhausted non stop for 20 years will make you very depressed.  Sometimes depression makes you tired, and sometimes being tired makes you depressed. When I was a young lad, I gave myself one single life goal.... That was to finish an electro industrial album and play some live shows. I dunno, to some that might not be a big deal.... I never said it had to be “good” after all. But, when I was at a low point dealing with my stuffs, trying to take care of myself... I honestly spent most my days sleeping. I was awake maybe 4 hours a day.  Things felt very hopeless, that learned hopelessness made me believe things were pretty much pointless.  I would shrug... and talk to my psychiatrist about my suffering in a manner that people talk about the weather.  I didn’t even care anymore it was happening.  It was “oh well... is what it is.” Until I got angry, it was a good thing I was so frustrated.... because it meant I finally gave a shit again. I wanted to get better and I wanted it to hurry the fuck up. Anyway... I’m just rambling and ranting because I was thinking back a lot after doing a sleep study... probably the first in a series of them. I don’t have apnea so I mean... that’s good. I also got to see what some of my brainwaves look like... I also apparently wake up after dreaming some a lot... I also apparently yelled in the middle of the night hahaha. So back to the whole life goal thing.....my long time friend, who introduced me to shitloads of music and bands and has always been close through good and bad times.  Was saying how he knew it was something I’ve always wanted to do, so he wants to help me.  He’s starting to help me plan the performance and then later will help me setup my shows and come with me to what will be really awkward and silly first couple gigs I play.  An open mic night will be particularly hilarious to me, since instead of hearing shitty rock song covers, it will be an insane goth punk dude screaming distorted vocals to weird electro noises haha.  It’s taken a long time to get shit finally going... but... it’s getting there... it’s still going to take a lot more work... on both me and the music.  I have countless things I have to do, but I’m just happy I finally got angry enough to scream fuck it... and go for it... I love a lot of various kinds of work. I don’t really fit there very well though.  Now that the sleep disorder stuff has become worse over time... it’s not really possible anyway.  That’s okay though, since now I’m just doing what I’m actually good at.  Eccentric artist asshole has always been my key features.  xD So, here’s some photos of me before and during my sleep lab and random enjoyable crap I suppose... and my general mood.  It’s been a while....                                                  -The End-

[bamby0304]

Her Saviours- Ch.24

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Violence.

Bamby

The other Omega and Alpha were safe now. Their car had needed a few touch-ups which Dean was able to do while you kept an eye on the orchard you’d still been parked by. Then you and he followed them until they were far away and safe.

Driving back towards the town, the sun rising, Dean had Sam on loudspeaker as he explained everything to his brother.

“The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town.” The tension in Dean was obvious. Not only in the way he spoke, but you could tell by looking at his grip on the steering wheel.

“It didn’t kill the couple, did it?”

“No. We can cope without you, you know.”

“Y/N… are you okay?”

Smiling down at the phone on the dash, you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m okay.”

“This thing is after Omegas and the male with them. Dean-”

“I got it,” Dean cut his brother off. “I can keep her safe.”

“I’m not doubting that. I’m just worried.”

The clench of Dean’s jaw made you wonder what was going through his head. Was he worried about you, too? Or did his brother’s words just hit a nerve?

When there was no response, Sam cleared his throat. “So, something must be animating it. A spirit.”

“No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway,” Dean corrected.

“What makes you say that?”

“The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always an Alpha and unclaimed Omega. Like some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals.” Dean glanced at you. “They treat Omegas like royalty. Offered Y/N anything she might want or need. The way they treated this couple… fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey.”

“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”

“So, a god possesses the scarecrow…”

“And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice,” Dean finished his brother’s sentence. “And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread.”

“Do you know which god you’re dealing with?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it.”

“I know. I’m actually on my way to a local community college. I’ve got an appointment with a professor. You know, since I don’t have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research.” 

Sam laughed lightly, “You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.”

“I’m not hinting anything. Y/N and I can handle it,” Dena assured him. “Actually, uh… I want you to know… I mean, don’t think…”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Sam didn’t need to hear the words to understand.

“Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.”

You looked over at Dean, surprised.

“Are you serious?”

“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I… anyway… I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“Call me when you find Dad.”

“Okay. Bye, Dean.” There was a pause before Sam added, “Goodbye, Y/N.”

As the line went dead, you turned to look out the window, feeling tears well up in your eyes. Your heart ached as you realised this was it. It was the end. Sam was gone, he was going to do his own thing… and you didn’t think he’d be back again. At least not for a while.

“Hey.” Dean reached over to rest a hand on your knee. “Talk to me.”

Unable to look at him, you kept your eyes on the horizon as you spoke, “Still hurts… losing him. Losing any of you. When you said you’ve had to compete for my attention since we met-”

“I didn’t mean it. Not like that.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you gave him a small smile. “I know, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. You, John, Sam… you all saved me. You all mean so much to me. I hate… I hate feeling like I’m grasping onto the hope of us all being together again when it’s not gonna happen.”

“It will,” he assured you, giving your knee a squeeze. “Sammy will find Dad and they’ll kill the son of a bitch that killed my mum. And then they’ll come find us, and things will go back to the way they used to be. The way they should be.”

Wiping away at the stray tear the rolled down your cheek, you shifted along the seat and snuggled into his side. “I hope you’re right, Dean. I really hope you’re right.”

…

“It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.”

You and Dean were walking with a professor through the halls of the community college where he worked. The hope was that he could shed some light on the history behind the town. Perhaps then, you’d be able to understand what you were dealing with and how to kill it.

Dean offered a polite smile. “Yeah, well, call it a hobby.”

“But you said you were interested in local lore?” the professor asked, getting a hummed confirmation from both you and Dean. “I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.”

“Well, what if it was imported?” Dean suggested. “You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn’t a lot of this area settled by immigrants?”

The professor shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

“There’s a place nearby, Burkittsville. Do you know where their ancestors would have come from?” you asked, a little tentatively.

The professor was beta, but the place had lingering scents of Alpha everywhere. Campus’ generally meant a wide variety of races, genders, and breeds. It wasn’t the first time you’d been on a campus, but it did feel different. You wondered if it was due to your intensifying fear of strange Alphas.

“Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia,” the professor provided.

“What could you tell us about those Pagan gods?” Dean asked.

“Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses.”

“We’re actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard.”

 …

In the professor’s office, he dropped an old and heavy book onto the table in front of you and Dean. Flicking it open, he started to skim a few pages to find what you were looking for.

“Woods god, hm? Well, let’s see.” 

As the pages kept turning, Dean quickly spotted something. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s that one?” He turned back to the page in question where you saw a scarecrow in a field.

“Oh, that’s not a woods god, per se.”

“The V-Vanir?” Dean looked up at the professor for confirmation, seeing him nod. He then turned back to the book and began to read. “‘The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practised human sacrifice. One Alpha, and one unclaimed Omega.’” Pausing a moment, he eyed the picture before asking, “Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?”

The professor shrugged. “I suppose.”

Dean continued to read. “This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?”

“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.”

“So… what would happen if the tree was damaged?” you asked. “Like cut down…”

“Or torched,” Dean added. “You think it’d kill the god?”

Laughing, the professor looked at you both amused, but also like you might’ve lost your minds. “These are just legends we’re discussing.”

“Oh, of course. Yeah, you’re right.” Dean quickly nodded, pulling back from the book. “Listen, thank you very much.” He reached out for the professor’s hand, which he then shook.

Smiling politely, you then offered your hand. “You’ve been a great help, thank you.

“Glad I could help.” Nodding, the professor walked you to the door. 

Neither you or Dean were prepared for what happened next.

As the door opened, you spotted the sheriff standing on the other side. Dean didn’t get the chance to react before the sheriff hit him in the head with the butt of his gun, knocking Dean out.

“Dean!” you cried out, reaching out for him.

“Not so fast.” The sheriff grabbed your arm and spun you around, pressing you against the wall. “Really should have left when you had the chance.”

Pulling you back, he then slammed you forward, against the wall again. This time it was hard enough to knock you clean out.

…

“Sweetheart,” Dean’s voice called to you. “Sweetheart, you gotta wake up. Come on, wake up for me. Please.” The tension in his voice made your heart break. At the same time, you used the pain to draw you back to consciousness. When you made a small squeak of a sound, you could hear the smile in this voice. “That’s it. Come on. Open your eyes for me. Show me your eyes. You can do it.”

It took everything in your power to will yourself to open your eyes. When you did, you found yourself lying on the floor, with Dean hovering above you. His hands were cradling your face as he watched you with eyes so worried you could see tears threatening to form.

“Dean?”

He smiled at you, relief replacing his fears. “Hey.” Helping you sit up, he made sure you were okay. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” you asked, squeezing your eyes shut again as you felt a sharp pain throb in your head. “Where are we?”

“The professor was in on it. Called the sheriff. He knocked us out. Must’ve got you bad, ‘cause you’ve been out for a while.” His gaze remained on you, watching your every move carefully. “Had me worried for a moment there, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you grunted.

Looking around, you took in your surroundings. Wherever you were, it was cold, dark and dank. It smelt damp and mouldy, and earth. Above you, a few feet away, was what appeared to be a door. Light peeked through the cracks, lighting parts the stairs underneath it.

“We’re in a basement,” you noted, taking another moment to check your surroundings before turning back to Dean.

He looked… defeated. Guilty. Worried. Terrified. The way he was watching your hands as they sat in your lap…

“Dean.” You brought a hand up to cup his face. “This isn’t your fault.”

“You should have gone with Sam,” he muttered. “You should have gone with Sam years ago. When he first left. You should have gone with Sam, and you should have stayed with Sam, and I should have never dragged you into any of this.” There was a crack in his voice that made you want to burst into tears.

Shaking your head, you got on your knees in front of him. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“You’re always in danger if you’re with me.”

“Dean… do you really think your father would have let me go with Sam when he first left? Maybe he would have let me go, but do you seriously think he wouldn’t have gone to get me eventually? You Winchesters are pack people. Sam might’ve run away, but he’s still all about pack. If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have dropped everything to come help us. So do you seriously think I would have been able to stay with Sam? Do you really think you would have been able to give up on me so easily?”

There was a moment’s pause as he tried to think of a situation where he would have let you go… but there was none.

“No.” His voice was so soft as he looked up to meet your gaze. “I could never lose you.”

“And you’re not going to.” Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a delicate kiss.

The basement door creaked open.

Dean was quick to pull you behind him as he stood, ready to defend you if need be.

It wasn’t needed, though…

“We don’t have much time.” Emily glanced over her shoulder before gesturing for the of you to move. “I’m getting you out of here.”

…

Dean’s grip on your hand was tight as you and he followed Emily through the orchard. You had to be careful, and quiet, keeping low to stay out of sight. Apparently, there were a number of locals around the place, armed and on guard.

Sneaking around, you couldn’t help but notice how different the trees were compared to the first time you’d seen them. They were dying. The townsfolk were running out of time to appease the god.

“How’d you know?” Dean asked in a harsh whisper.

It was obvious he didn’t trust that she was actually trying to help, but you believed her. You also knew it was probably your best chance of getting out of there.

“I heard my aunt and uncle fussing over you two leaving town. And then all your questions, and the weird disappearances every year.” Emily paused and sighed, turning to look at you both. “My mother and father… they weren’t traditionalists. They didn’t believe in claiming. They thought it was barbaric.”

Her story fell into place, then. “Your mother was an unclaimed Omega.”

She nodded. “It was another year like this. The trees were beginning to die… and then the next morning everything was healthy and everyone was happy, and my parents were gone.”

“We’re sorry.” Dean meant it, too. Losing a parent… you all knew what that felt like.

A gun cocked behind you, making you freeze.

“I will shoot,” the sheriff warned. “And it’ll be one of the girls I hit. We only need one of them.”

The three of you all turned, seeing that the sheriff wasn’t alone. Scotty, Harley, and Stacy were all there, too. Armed and aiming their guns at your little group.

“Emily.” Stacy was a mixture of disappointed, shocked, guilty, and scared. “What did you do?”

“They’re people!” Emily exclaimed boldly, even though she was beginning to cry. “Why are you doing this?”

Harley squared his shoulders, doing his best not to show how seeing his niece at the other end of his barrel was affecting him. “It’s for the common good.”

…

Back in the basement, you watched as Dean tried to open the door for the millionth time. Emily was sitting beside you, sobbing lightly. She’d calmed down, but you could tell she was still freaked. You didn’t blame her.

“So…  they’re gonna kill us?” she asked.

Having not known what was going on to the full extent when she’d tried to help you and Dean, Emily had only assumed the townsfolk had killed her parents. Explaining that they were offered up as a sacrifice instead was a little difficult.

“Sacrifice us,” Dean corrected. “Which is, I don’t know, classier, I guess?” Giving up on the door, he headed towards the two of you. “You really didn’t know anything about this, did you?”

She shook her head. “I suspected something, but… the scarecrow? I can’t believe this.”

“Well, you better start believing, cause we’re gonna need your help,” Dean told her. “We can destroy the scarecrow, but we gotta find the tree.”

“What tree?”

“The scarecrow’s power has to come from a sacred tree. Something old, that would have come from wherever the town’s founders are from,” you explained. “The townspeople would treat it with a lot of respect.”

Contemplating the thought for a moment, she soon remembered a tree. “There was this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”

“Is it in the orchard?” Dean asked.

Emily nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know where.” 

The doors opened again, revealing Scotty, Stacey, Harley, and the sheriff. Dean- once again- stood in front of you and Emily protectively as Stacey stepped forward.

“It’s time.”

…

The rope around your wrists wasn’t something you weren’t familiar with. Being in the hunter life meant you’d been tied up a few times over the years. Before that, however, you’d spent years bound. The memories of the things that you’d been through before the Winchesters always seemed a little more potent when you could feel the tightness of rope biting into your skin.

“How many people have you killed, Sheriff? How much blood is on your hands?” Dean asked, glaring at the man who’d just finished tying him to a tree of his own.

“We don’t kill them.”

“No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?” 

“Uncle Harley, please,” Emily cried.

Her uncle couldn’t even look her in the eyes. “I am so sorry, Em. I wish it wasn’t you.”

“Try to understand,” Stacy started. “It’s our responsibility. You… you know too much. You’re a risk.”

“I’m your family.”

“Sweetheart,” Stacy genuinely looked upset, “that’s what sacrifice means. Giving up something you love for the greater good. The town needs to be safe. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one.”

She, Scotty and Harley began to walk away then, though the sheriff remained.

“I hope your apple pie is freakin’ worth it!” Dean called.

Ignoring Dean, the sheriff turned his back to him and then moved towards you. He knelt down, watching as you chewed on your lip, trying to fight the fear that came from the moment you were living in, and the one replaying in your mind.

“Such a shame… you were a pretty Omega. Would’ve made someone happy.”

Lip curling up into a snarl, you spat at him.

Raising a hand to his face, he wiped your spit from his cheek and rose to his feet suddenly. “That fight in you isn’t gonna change anything. You’re his, now.” Turning on his heels, he stalked off.

Your heart was beating hard and fast in your chest. The memories of your past, mixed with the stench of the Alpha sheriff, had your nerves on edge. Everything inside you was screaming to get free and run, but that panic wouldn’t do you any good.

If you tried to get yourself out, you’d only hurt yourself. If you tried to make a break for it, you wouldn’t get far. First, you’d have to free Dean and Emily, and then you’d have to try and sneak out of the orchards… you got the feeling you wouldn’t get far. The townspeople weren’t going to risk losing their sacrifice again.

“So, what’s the plan?” Emily asked Dean expectantly.

“I’m workin’ on it.”

…

The sun had set hours ago. It was cold, your arms ached as they’d remained tied above your head. Your bones hurt, and your anxiety was through the roof. Things were not looking good.

Emily sighed, “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“I’m workin’ on it,’ Dean assured her, sounding considerably less confident than he had before. “Can you see?”

Shifting as much as you could, you tried to get a look at the scarecrow’s perch behind you. But as much as you tried, and moved, you couldn’t get a good view.

“I can’t see him.”

“Me either,” Emily added.

As you shifted, the ropes bit into your skin more. You hissed and winced as a memory shook you to your bones. Seeing the faces of those who’d killed your parents and taken you… remembering the things they’d done…

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice called you out of your head. “You okay?”

Gritting your teeth, you nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh my God.”

Looking over at Emily, you saw pure fear in her eyes. “What? What is it?”

Whatever had he so scared, though, had her frozen as she stared straight ahead with wide eyes. “Oh my God!”

Leaves in the distance rustled as something moved. You could hear it now, coming closer and closer. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to use the bark on your tree to cut through your ropes. You had to get out of there. You had to save Dean and Em-

“Dean? Y/N?”

“Sam?” Your head fell back against the tree as you let out a relieved breath.

“Oh!” Dean beamed up at his younger brother as Sam moved towards him. “Oh, I take everything back I said. I’m so happy to see you. Come on.” As Sam started untying him, Dean asked, “How’d you get here?”

“I, uh…” Sam released his brother and shrugged. “I stole a car.”

Dean gave his arm a playful punch. “Haha! That’s my boy!” He moved towards Emily to free her while Sam moved to you. “And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute.”

Sam stopped untying you to look in the direction where his brother had gestured. “What scarecrow?”

Your eyes went wide. “Oh fuck…”

...

The four of you were running. Being quiet and careful wasn’t going to do any of you good now that the scarecrow was awake. You had to be quick. You had to get the hell out of there before he found you.

“Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about..”

“It’s the source of its power,” Dean explained.

Sam shrugged. “So let’s find it and burn it.”

Dean shook his head. “Nah, in the morning. Let’s just shag ass before Leather Face catches up.” 

As the four of you reached a clearing, however, you found your paths were blocked by the townspeople.

Dean put his arms out in front of you and Emily, making you both stop as he started to back up. “This way.”

When you tried to turn to make a break for it, you found more people had gathered around. You were now surrounded.

Sam grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him, as Dean did the same with Emily. The Alphas kept you behind them as they moved back to back, keeping you both safe.

“Please. Let us go,” Emily begged.

Her uncle shook his head. “It’ll be over quickly, I promise.”

Scanning the crowd, you could see how close they were. How they had gathered around so tightly, and everyone’s focus was on your group… no one was watching their surroundings.

“How would you know?” you asked, eyes scanning the crowd. “You hide in the treeline or your homes. You lure people out here or trap them. You feed them to this thing. But you know nothing. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Now is really not the time to piss them off,” Dean mumbled at you.

You had to disagree.

Pulling your arm from Sam’s grasp, you stepped away from the brothers and Emily, moving a little closer to the four townspeople who clearly ran the place. Scotty, Stacy, Harley, and the sheriff.

“You do this because it’s what you were taught to do, but you don’t understand it.” You eyed Scotty’s gun as it remained aimed at you. “You’re not gonna shoot. The fact you haven’t had to kill anyone with your own hands is how you can sleep at night.”

“We will if we have to,” the sheriff argued.

“No… you won’t. You won’t get the chance.”

All of a sudden, Harley let out a garbled gasp as the scarecrow’s sickle stuck out from his chest. Stacey screamed, and everything fell into chaos.

“Run!” you called to the brothers and Emily, before you made a break for it.

The scarecrow was cutting through the townspeople, trying to push through the crowd as they all tried to run away. His eyes were on you and Emily, as he hacked through whoever got in his way.

Sam and Dean grabbed you both, dragging you along as your feet slammed on the dirt ground. None of you let up until you saw the clearing of the orchard, and even then it only made you move faster.

Every breath you sucked in was like breathing in fire, your muscles ached, your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, drowning out the screams behind you.

Reaching the road, Sam and Dean shoved you and Emily across the line. You both stumbled, landing on the harsh asphalt, cutting up your arms and palms. But at that moment, the pain didn’t even register.

Spinning around, you watched the treeline, seeing the scarecrow step up to it and watch your group as you all sat on the road, trying to catch your breaths. People were still screaming, dying in the orchard.

The scarecrow stood there, his eyes on you and Emily for a moment longer before he turned and stalked back into the darkness.

“How… how’d you know?” Emily asked, trying to calm her breathing. “How’d you know he was going to kill them?”

“We were the only unclaimed Omegas. He had to cut through them to get to us.” You shrugged. “And I was kinda banking on him being pissed… they did keep him waiting after all.”

…

Emily had taken you, Dean and Sam to the impala. The four of you had then camped out in the car, on the side of the road by the orchard. You hadn’t been able to sleep, but Emily had crashed as soon as the adrenaline had left her system.

Dean had stayed up for a good long while, but when sleep claimed him, he didn’t fight it. You didn’t think he had it in him to fit. He’d been through a lot lately, and he needed the rest.

Sam had drifted in and out, but he’d mostly fought the urge to sleep. Every time it had won, even for the briefest of moments, he’d look back over at you to make sure you were okay.

It was morning now. The sun had risen, painting the sky in golden hues. The bright lights had stirred the other occupants of the vehicle, alerting them that it was time. With Sam carrying the gasoline, and Dean carrying the lighter, the four of you headed back into the orchard to find the sacred tree.

There wasn’t a single sign of last night’s events. You didn’t see a body… or even a spec of blood. Either remaining townspeople had cleaned up the mess, or the scarecrow had covered its track.

Once the tree had been found, Sam had poured the gasoline over all of it, while Dean had grabbed a large stick to light.

“Let me.” Emily gestured to the burning stick.

Handing it over, Dean stepped back next to you as Sam came over to join. The three of you watched Emily move to the tree.

“You know, the whole town’s gonna die,” Dean told her.

“Good.” With that, she threw the stick onto the gasoline and watched the tree catch fire.

…

Standing between Sam and Dean, you watched Emily get on the bus. None of you moved as she took a seat and waited before the bus then started down the road. You didn’t look away until you couldn’t see it anymore.

“Think she’s gonna be alright?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “I hope so.”

“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?”

“The power that was keeping the town alive is gone… trust me, they won’t just get away with it. They’ll suffer,” you assured him, not hiding the satisfied tone in your voice.

Those people deserved more than what was coming… but it was the best you could do. There was no proof of foul play, so calling the authorities was out of the question. That left you three dealing with the people, but you weren’t killers. So you were just going to have to settle with letting the town die.

As the three of you headed for the Impala, Dean looked over at his brother. “So, can I drop you off somewhere?”

Reaching his door, Sam leaned on the roof of the car and shook his head. “No, I think you’re stuck with me.” 

You couldn’t deny the fact you were happy hearing those words. More than happy, actually. Knowing Sam had changed his mind about leaving… it was the best news you’d heard in a long time.

“What made you change your mind?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t.” Sam shrugged. “I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass,” he noted, making Dean chuckling a nod. “But, Jess and Mum… they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. The three of us,” he glanced over at you, we’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”

Maybe that was the best thing you’d heard in a long time...

“Hold me, Sam.” Dean pressed a hand to his heart. “That was beautiful.” 

Sam rolled his eyes at him. “You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude.”

“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten out,” Dean insisted as the three of you got in the car.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You really didn’t.”

Bamby